“O Vulcan, there is none of all the gods Who may contend with thee. I combat not With fires like thine. Cease then. With my consent The noble son of Peleus may drive out The Trojans from their city. What have I To do with war⁠—the attack or the defence?”

Thus in that fiery glow he spake, while seethed His pleasant streams. As over a strong fire A cauldron filled with fat of pampered swine Glows bubbling on all sides, while underneath Burns the dry fuel, thus were his fair streams Scorched by the heat, and simmered, while the blast Sent forth by Vulcan, the great artisan, Tormented him, and he besought the aid Of Juno with these supplicating words:⁠—