Then Jove, the cloud-compeller, spake again:⁠— “Harsh-tongued! thou ever dost suspect me thus, Nor can I act unwatched; and yet all this Profits thee nothing, for it only serves To breed dislike, and is the worse for thee. But were it as thou deemest, ’tis enough That such has been my pleasure. Sit thou down In silence, and obey, lest all the gods Upon Olympus, when I come and lay These potent hands on thee, protect thee not.”

He spake, and Juno, large-eyed and august, O’erawed, and curbing her high spirit, sat In silence; meanwhile all the gods of heaven Within the halls of Jove were inly grieved. But Vulcan, the renowned artificer, Sought to console his mother in her grief⁠— The white-armed Juno⁠—and thus interposed:⁠—