Which, when the king of gods beheld from high (Withal revolving in his memory What he himself had found on earth of late, Lycaon’s guilt, and his inhuman treat), He sigh’d, nor longer with his pity strove, But kindled to a wrath becoming Jove.

Then call’d a general council of the gods, Who, summon’d, issue from their bless’d abodes, And fill the assembly with a shining train. A way there is in heaven’s expanded plain, Which, when the skies are clear, is seen below, And mortals by the name of milky know; The groundwork is of stars; through which the road Lies open to the Thunderer’s abode; The gods of greater nations dwell around, And, on the right and left, the palace bound; The commons where they can; the nobler sort, With winding doors wide open, front the court. This place, as far as earth with heaven may vie, I dare to call the Louvre of the sky. When all were placed in seats distinctly known, And he, their father, had assumed the throne, Upon his ivory sceptre first he lean’d, Then shook his head, that shook the firmament: Air, earth, and seas, obey’d the almighty nod, And, with a general fear, confess’d the god; At length, with indignation, thus he broke His awful silence, and the powers bespoke:

“I was not more concern’d in that debate Of empire, when our universal state Was put to hazard, and the giant race Our captive skies were ready to embrace; For though the foe was fierce, the seeds of all Rebellion sprung from one original; Now, wheresoever ambient waters glide, All are corrupt, and all must be destroy’d. Let me this holy protestation make; By hell, and hell’s inviolable lake, I tried whatever in the godhead lay; But gangrened members must be lopp’d away, Before the nobler parts are tainted to decay. There dwells below a race of demi-gods, Of nymphs in waters, and of fauns in woods, Who though not worthy yet in heaven to live, Let them, at least, enjoy that earth we give. Can these be thought securely lodged below, When I myself, who no superior know, I, who have heaven and earth at my command, Have been attempted by Lycaon’s hand?”

At this a murmur through the synod went, And, with one voice, they vote his punishment. Thus, when conspiring traitors dared to doom The fall of Caesar, and in him of Rome, The nations trembled with a pious fear, Ail anxious for their earthly Thunderer; Nor was their care, O Caesar, less esteem’d By thee, than that of heaven for Jove was deem’d: Who, with his hand and voice, did first restrain Their murmurs, then resumed his speech again. The gods to silence were composed, and sate With reverence, due to his superior state.