5
Denied the bridal couch, the mutual flame,
The husband's bliss, the father's soothing name.
The monstrous inmates of profoundest Hell
Fired by his wrongs, the black battalia swell:
Tisiphone, her Fury ranks amid—
Her lowering brow by clustered serpents hid—
Waves her ill-omen'd torch; and, armed all,
The grisly Manes gather at her call.
Almost had then each warring element
In wild divorce the ties that bound them rent:
Almost the Giant brood had dash'd away
Their prison bars, and gazed upon the day;
And scarr'd Ægæon, bursting from his bands,
Hurl'd back the lightnings with his hundred hands.
But, trembling for the world, the Fates forbade
The threatened ill; at Pluto's feet they laid
Their hair, severe and hoary—and his knees
Clasp'd with those hands that rule our destinies,
Sway Time and Death, the distaff and the shears,
And guide the cycles of unfailing years.
First Lachesis, her streaming locks undight—
Addressed the King—"O Arbiter of Night,
And Lord of Shades—to whom our labours tend,
Who giv'st to all their origin and end,
