The monarch Neptune kept no idle watch; For he in Thracian Samos, dark with woods, Aloft upon the highest summit sat O’erlooking thence the tumult of the war; For thence could he behold the Idaean mount, And Priam’s city, and the Grecian fleet. There, coming from the ocean-deeps, he sat, And pitied the Greek warriors put to rout Before the Trojans, and was wroth with Jove. Soon he descended from those rugged steeps, And trod the earth with rapid strides; the hills And forests quaked beneath the immortal feet Of Neptune as he walked. Three strides he took, And at the fourth reached Aegae, where he stopped, And where his sumptuous palace-halls were built, Deep down in ocean, golden, glittering, proof Against decay of time. These when he reached, He yoked his swift and brazen-footed steeds, With manes of flowing gold, to draw his car, And put on golden mail, and took his scourge, Wrought of fine gold, and climbed the chariot-seat, And rode upon the waves. The whales came forth From their deep haunts, and frolicked round his way: They knew their king. The waves rejoicing smoothed