The God who mounts the winged winds, Fast to his feet the golden pinions binds, That high through fields of air his flight sustain, O’er the wide earth, and o’er the boundless main. […] The sire of gods, and all the ethereal train, On the warm limits of the farthest main, Now mix with mortals, nor disdain to grace The feasts of Ethiopia’s hlameless race. […] This heard the raging ruler of the main; His spear, indignant for such high disdain, He launched, dividing with his forky mace The aerial summit from its mighty base; The rock rushed seaward with impetuous roar, Ingulfed, and to the abyss the boaster bore. […] Along the sides of the cavern are ranged between forty and fifty statues, each, twelve or fifteen feet in height, of exact symmetry; but though round and prominent, yet not one of them is detached from the main rock.