of smoke and dust, is Neptune with his mighty trident
shaking the walls and upheaving the very foundations;
here is Juno, cruellest of foes, posted at the entry of the 35
Scæan gate, and summoning in tones of fury from the
ships her confederate band, herself girt with steel like them.
Look behind you—there is Tritonian Pallas, seated already
on the summit of our towers, in the lurid glare of
her storm-cloud and grim Gorgon’s head. The great
Father himself is nerving the Danaans with courage and
strength for victory—himself leading the gods against