And bare exposed the bosom of the deep: Then, as an eagle gripes the trembling game, The wretch, yet hissing with her father's flame, She strongly seized, and with a burning wound Transfixed, and, naked, on a rock she bound. But I, who walk in awful state above, The majesty of heaven, the sister wife of Jove, For length of years my fruitless force employ Against the thin remains of ruined Troy! What nations now to Juno's power will pray, Or offerings on my slighted altars lay?" Thus raged the goddess; and, with fury fraught, The restless regions of the storms she sought, Where, in a spacious cave of living stone, The tyrant Æolus, from his airy throne, With power imperial curbs the struggling winds, And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds. This way, and that, the impatient captives tend, And, pressing for release, the mountains rend. High in his hall the undaunted monarch stands, And shakes his sceptre, and their rage commands; Which did he not, their unresisted sway Would sweep the world before them in their way; Earth, air, and seas, through empty space would roll, And heaven would fly before the driving soul. In fear of this, the Father of the Gods } Confined their fury to those dark abodes, } And locked them safe within, oppressed with mountain loads; } Imposed a king, with arbitrary sway, To loose their fetters, or their force allay; To whom the suppliant queen her prayers addressed, And thus the tenor of her suit expressed:-- "O Æolus! for to thee the king of heaven The power of tempests and of winds has given; Thy force alone their fury can restrain, And smooth the waves, or swell the troubled main-- A race of wandering slaves, abhorred by me, With prosperous passage cut the Tuscan sea: To fruitful Italy their course they steer, And, for their vanquished gods, design new temples there. Raise all thy winds; with night involve the skies; Sink or disperse my fatal enemies. Twice seven, the charming daughters of the main, Around my person wait, and bear my train: Succeed my wish, and second my design, } The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine, } And make thee father of a happy line."[94] } To this the god:--"'Tis yours, O queen! to will The work, which duty binds me to fulfill. These airy kingdoms, and this wide command, Are all the presents of your bounteous hand: Yours is my sovereign's grace; and, as your guest, I sit with gods at their celestial feast. Raise tempests at your pleasure, or subdue; Dispose of empire, which I hold from you." He said, and hurled against the mountain side His quivering spear, and all the god applied. The raging winds rush through the hollow wound, And dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground; Then, settling on the sea, the surges sweep, Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the deep.