And well they knew Hephæstus where, hard by,
He stood, inglorious, daring all their eyes:
The gods all beautiful—they laughed on high
At him, his woes and all his blasphemies.
But surely never was there such a play
For mirth of idle gods!—Nor such a shame
Ever become of love, as on that day
In sight of all the gods their love became!
Who were betrayed so,—in whatever sin
Lips could with lips, face could with face commit,
Yea lips or limbs of lovers could begin,—
That they were bound and kept quite close in it:
For vainly in the meshes of that snare
They strove, with shuddering limbs and starting cries,
Entangled more with many a mesh of hair
Caught in the manifold intricacies!
So She was found indeed most beautiful,
Yet full of shame and false in all she was;
So before gods who make and gods who rule,
And him her husband, she was found, alas!
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