So talked they. Silver-footed Thetis came Meanwhile to Vulcan’s halls, eternal, gemmed With stars, a wonder to the immortals, wrought Of brass by the lame god. She found him there Sweating and toiling, and with busy hand Plying the bellows. He was fashioning Tripods, a score, to stand beside the wall Of his fair palace. All of these he placed On wheels of gold, that, of their own accord, They might roll in among the assembled gods, And then roll back, a marvel to behold. So far they all were finished; but not yet Were added the neat handles, and for these The god was forging rivets busily. While thus he labored, with a mind intent Upon his skilful task, on silver feet Came Thetis. Charis, of the snowy veil, The beautiful, whom the great god of fire, Vulcan, had made his wife, beheld, and came Forward to meet her, seized her hand, and said:⁠—