So, in her fevered heart complaining still,
unto the storm-cloud land the goddess came,
a region with wild whirlwinds in its womb,
Aeolia named, where royal Aeolus
in a high-vaulted cavern keeps control
o'er warring winds and loud concourse of storms.
There closely pent in chains and bastions strong,
they, scornful, make the vacant mountain roar,
chafing against their bonds. But from a throne
of lofty crag, their king with sceptred hand
allays their fury and their rage confines.
Did he not so, our ocean, earth, and sky
were whirled before them through the vast inane.
But over-ruling Jove, of this in fear,
hid them in dungeon dark: then o'er them piled
huge mountains, and ordained a lawful king
to hold them in firm sway, or know what time,
with Jove's consent, to loose them o'er the world.
To him proud Juno thus made lowly plea:
Vergil. Aeneid. Theodore C. Williams. trans. Boston. Houghton Mifflin Co. 1910.
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