“Great will the evil be and hard to bear, If, for the sake of mortals, ye are moved To such contention and the assembled gods Disturbed with discord. Even the pleasant feast Will lose its flavor when embittered thus. And let me warn my mother while I speak, Wise as she is, that she defer to Jove, Lest the All-Father angrily again Reply, and spoil the banquet of the day. The Thunderer of Olympus, if he choose To make a wreck of all things, wields a power Far greater than we all. Accost him thou With gentle speeches, and the Lord of heaven Will then regard us in a kindly mood.”
As thus he spake, he gave into the hands Of his beloved mother the round cup Of double form, and thus he spake again:—
“Mother, be patient and submit, although In sadness, lest these eyes behold thee yet Beaten with stripes, and though I hold thee dear And grieve for thee, I cannot bring thee help; For hard it is to strive with Jupiter. Already once, when I took part with thee, He seized me by the foot and flung me o’er The battlements of heaven. All day I fell, And with the setting sun I struck the earth In Lemnos. Little life was left in me, What time the Sintians took me from the ground.”
He spake, and Juno, the white-shouldered, smiled, And smiling took the cup her son had brought; And next he poured to all the other gods Sweet nectar from the jar, beginning first With those at the right hand. As they beheld Lame Vulcan laboring o’er the palace-floor, An inextinguishable laughter broke From all the blessed gods. So feasted they All day till sunset. From that equal feast None stood aloof, nor from the pleasant sound Of harp, which Phoebus touched, nor from the voice Of Muses singing sweetly in their turn.
But when the sun’s all-glorious light was down, Each to his sleeping-place betook himself; For Vulcan, the lame god, with marvellous art, Had framed for each the chamber of his rest.