Sinopsis

The Cyclops in their vast capacious Cave Work'd the tormented Iron: Brontes huge, And Steropes, and with his naked Limbs Pyracmon. In their Hands before them glow'd The unform'd Thunder: Bolts which Jove to Earth Profusely hurls from all the Welkin round: Part finish'd, part imperfect yet remain'd. Three Forks of darted Hail, of watry Cloud Three more they added: Three of glaring Fire: As many of the winged southern Wind. Then dreadful Flashes, and the roaring Noise, And Rage, and Terror, and avenging Flames. Some in a diff'rent Quarter of the Grot Labour'd the Chariot, and the rapid Wheels Of Mars, with which vast Cities he alarms, And rouses Heroes.--