of a year? Troy walls I raised (for such were Jove's commands), And yon proud bulwarks grew beneath my hands: Thy task it was to feed the bellowing droves Along fair Ida's vales and pendant groves. But when the circling seasons in their train Brought back the grateful day that crown'd our pain, With menace stern the fraudful king defied Our latent godhead, and the prize denied: Mad as he was, he threaten'd servile bands, And doom'd us exiles far in barbarous lands.(273) Incensed, we heavenward fled with swiftest wing, And destined vengeance on the perjured king. Dost thou, for this, afford proud Ilion grace, And not, like us, infest the faithless race; Like us, their present, future sons destroy, And from its deep foundations heave their Troy?" Apollo thus: "To combat for mankind Ill suits the wisdom of celestial mind; For what is man? Calamitous by birth, They owe their life and nourishment to earth; Like yearly leaves, that now, with beauty crown'd, Smile on the sun; now, wither on the ground. To their own hands commit the frantic scene, Nor mix immortals in a cause so mean." Then turns his face, far-beaming heavenly fires, And from the senior power submiss retires: Him thus retreating, Artemis upbraids, The quiver'd huntress of the sylvan shades: "And is it thus the youthful Phoebus flies, And yields to ocean's hoary sire the prize? How vain that martial pomp, and dreadful show Of pointed arrows and the silver bow! Now boast no more in yon celestial bower, Thy force can match the great earth-shaking power." Silent he heard the queen of woods upbraid: Not so Saturnia bore the vaunting maid: But furious thus: "What insolence has driven Thy pride to face the majesty of heaven? What though by Jove the female plague design'd, Fierce to the feeble race of womankind, The wretched matron feels thy piercing dart; Thy sex's tyrant, with a tiger's heart? What though tremendous in the