But when the flying Trojans had o’erpass’d
Both stakes and trench, and numerous slaughtered lay
By Grecian hands, the remnant halted all
Beside their chariots, pale, discomfited.
Then was it that on Ida’s summit Jove5
At Juno’s side awoke; starting, he stood
At once erect; Trojans and Greeks he saw,
These broken, those pursuing and led on
By Neptune; he beheld also remote
Encircled by his friends, and on the plain10
Extended, Hector; there he panting lay,
Senseless, ejecting blood, bruised by a blow
From not the feeblest of the sons of Greece.
Touch’d with compassion at that sight, the Sire
Of Gods and men, frowning terrific, fix’d15
His eyes on Juno, and her thus bespake.
No place for doubt remains. Oh, versed in wiles,
Juno! thy mischief-teeming mind perverse
Hath plotted this; thou hast contrived the hurt
Of Hector, and hast driven his host to flight.20
I know not but thyself mayst chance to reap
The first-fruits of thy cunning, scourged[1] by me.
Hast thou forgotten how I once aloft
Suspended thee, with anvils at thy feet,
And both thy wrists bound with a golden cord25
Indissoluble? In the clouds of heaven
I hung thee, while from the Olympian heights
The Gods look’d mournful on, but of them all
None could deliver thee, for whom I seized,
Hurl’d through the gates of heaven on earth he fell,30
Half-breathless. Neither so did I resign
My hot resentment of the hero’s wrongs
Immortal Hercules, whom thou by storms
Call’d from the North, with mischievous intent
Hadst driven far distant o’er the barren Deep35
To populous Cos. Thence I deliver’d him,
And after numerous woes severe, he reach’d
The shores of fruitful Argos, saved by me.
I thus remind thee now, that thou mayst cease
Henceforth from artifice, and mayst be taught40
How little all the dalliance and the love
Which, stealing down from heaven, thou hast by fraud
Obtain’d from me, shall profit thee at last.
He ended, whom imperial Juno heard
Shuddering, and in wing’d accents thus replied.45
Be witness Earth, the boundless Heaven above,
And Styx beneath, whose stream the blessed Gods
Even tremble to adjure;[2] be witness too
Thy sacred life, and our connubial bed,
Which by a false oath I will never wrong,50
That by no art induced or plot of mine
Neptune, the Shaker of the shores, inflicts
These harms on Hector and the Trojan host
Aiding the Grecians, but impell’d alone
By his own heart with pity moved at sight55
Of the Achaians at the ships subdued.
But even him, oh Sovereign of the storms!
I am prepared to admonish that he quit
The battle, and retire where thou command’st.
So she; then smiled the Sire of Gods and men,60
And in wing’d accents answer thus return’d.[3]
Juno! wouldst thou on thy celestial throne
Assist my counsels, howso’er in heart
He differ now, Neptune should soon his will
Submissive bend to thy desires and mine.65
But if sincerity be in thy words
And truth, repairing to the blest abodes
Send Iris hither, with the archer God
Apollo; that she, visiting the host
Of Greece, may bid the Sovereign of the Deep70
Renounce the fight, and seek his proper home.
Apollo’s part shall be to rouse again
Hector to battle, to inspire his soul
Afresh with courage, and all memory thence
To banish of the pangs which now he feels.75
Apollo also shall again repulse
Achaia’s host, which with base panic fill’d,
Shall even to Achilles’ ships be driven.
Achilles shall his valiant friend exhort
Patroclus forth; him under Ilium’s walls80
Shall glorious Hector slay; but many a youth
Shall perish by Patroclus first, with whom,
My noble son Sarpedon. Peleus’ son,
Resentful of Patroclus’ death, shall slay
Hector, and I will urge ceaseless, myself,85
Thenceforth the routed Trojans back again,
Till by Minerva’s aid the Greeks shall take
Ilium’s proud city; till that day arrive
My wrath shall burn, nor will I one permit
Of all the Immortals to assist the Greeks,90
But will perform Achilles’ whole desire.
Such was my promise to him at the first,
Ratified by a nod that self-same day
When Thetis clasp’d my knees, begging revenge
And glory for her city-spoiler son.95
He ended; nor his spouse white-arm’d refused
Obedience, but from the Idæan heights
Departing, to the Olympian summit soar’d.
Swift as the traveller’s thought,[4] who, many a land
Traversed, deliberates on his future course100
Uncertain, and his mind sends every way,
So swift updarted Juno to the skies.
Arrived on the Olympian heights, she found
The Gods assembled; they, at once, their seats
At her approach forsaking, with full cups105
Her coming hail’d; heedless of all beside,
She took the cup from blooming Themis’ hand,
For she first flew to welcome her, and thus
In accents wing’d of her return inquired.
Say, Juno, why this sudden re-ascent?110
Thou seem’st dismay’d; hath Saturn’s son, thy spouse,
Driven thee affrighted to the skies again?
To whom the white-arm’d Goddess thus replied.
Themis divine, ask not. Full well thou know’st
How harshly temper’d is the mind of Jove,115
And how untractable. Resume thy seat;
The banquet calls thee; at our board preside,
Thou shalt be told, and all in heaven shall hear
What ills he threatens; such as shall not leave
All minds at ease, I judge, here or on earth,120
However tranquil some and joyous now.
So spake the awful spouse of Jove, and sat.
Then, all alike, the Gods displeasure felt
Throughout the courts of Jove, but she, her lips
Gracing with smiles from which her sable brows125
Dissented,[5] thus indignant them address’d.