Ix

As when almightie Jove, in wrathfull mood,° To wreake the guilt of mortall sins is bent, Hurles forth his thundring dart with deadly food, Enrold in flames, and smouldring dreriment, Through riven cloudes and molten firmament; The fierce threeforked engin making way Both loftie towres and highest trees hath rent, And all that might his angry passage stay, And shooting in the earth, casts up a mount of clay.