In secret darkness of his inmost soul 335
Contriving vengeance; to the stock he heav'd
His anvil huge, on which he forged a snare
Of bands indissoluble, by no art
To be untied, durance for ever firm.
The net prepared, he bore it, fiery-wroth, 340
To his own chamber and his nuptial couch,
Where, stretching them from post to post, he wrapp'd
With those fine meshes all his bed around,
And hung them num'rous from the roof, diffused
Like spiders' filaments, which not the Gods 345
Themselves could see, so subtle were the toils.
When thus he had encircled all his bed
On ev'ry side, he feign'd a journey thence
To Lemnos, of all cities that adorn
The earth, the city that he favours most. 350
Nor kept the God of the resplendent reins
Mars, drowsy watch, but seeing that the famed
Artificer of heav'n had left his home,
Flew to the house of Vulcan, hot to enjoy
The Goddess with the wreath-encircled brows. 355
She, newly from her potent Sire return'd
The son of Saturn, sat. Mars, ent'ring, seiz'd
Her hand, hung on it, and thus urg'd his suit.
To bed, my fair, and let us love! for lo!
Thine husband is from home, to Lemnos gone, 360
And to the Sintians, men of barb'rous speech.
He
