Her spreading honours thus the one inspired,
And one the dread to lose his worship fired.
Their struggling factions shook th' Olympian state
With all the clamorous tempest of debate.
Thus, when the storm with sudden gust invades
The ancient forest's deep and lofty shades,
The bursting whirlwinds tear their rapid course,
The shatter'd oaks crash, and with echoes hoarse
The mountains groan, while whirling on the blast
The thickening leaves a gloomy darkness cast.
Such was the tumult in the blest abodes,
When Mars, high towering o'er the rival gods,
Stept forth; stern sparkles from his eye-balls glanc'd,
And now, before the throne of Jove advanc'd,
O'er his left shoulder his broad shield he throws,
And lifts his helm above his dreadful brows:
Bold and enrag'd he stands, and, frowning round,
Strikes his tall spear-staff on the sounding ground;
Heaven trembled, and the light turn'd pale[1]—Such dread
His fierce demeanour o'er Olympus spread:
When thus the warrior,—O eternal sire,
Thine is the sceptre, thine the thunder's fire,
Supreme dominion thine; then, father, hear:
Shall that bold race which once to thee was dear,
Who,
- ↑ ——and the light turn'd pale.—The thought in the original has something in it wildly great, though it is not expressed in the happiest manner of Camoens,
O Ceo tremeo, e Apollo detorvado
Hum pouco a luz perdeo, como infiado.
