and whole cities; and with emulous zeal were making 35
bright with golden serpent scales the terrible Ægis, the
armour of angry Pallas, snakes wreathed together, and
full on the breast of the goddess the Gorgon herself, her
neck severed and her eyes rolling. “Away with all this,”
cries the god; “take your unfinished tasks elsewhere, you
Cyclops of Ætna, and give your attention here. Arms
are wanted for a fiery warrior. Now is the call for power,
now for swiftness of hand, now for all that art can teach. 5
Turn delay into despatch.” No more he said; but they