The thunderer spoke, nor durst the queen reply; A reverent horror silenced all the sky. The feast disturb’d, with sorrow Vulcan saw His mother menaced, and the gods in awe; Peace at his heart, and pleasure his design, Thus interposed the architect divine: “The wretched quarrels of the mortal state Are far unworthy, gods! of your debate: Let men their days in senseless strife employ, We, in eternal peace and constant joy. Thou, goddess-mother, with our sire comply, Nor break the sacred union of the sky: Lest, roused to rage, he shake the bless’d abodes, Launch the red lightning, and dethrone the gods. If you submit, the thunderer stands appeased; The gracious power is willing to be pleased.”