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[29] First, let none be misled by the figments of poetsthat Aetna is the habitation of a god, that it is Vulcan's fire that bursts from its swelling throat, and his toiling activity that echoes through its close caverns. The gods own not a care so mean, none may rightly degrade to humblest crafts the stars: they rule as kings aloft in their remote heaven, and disdain to handle the task of an artisan.
[36] Distinct from that former is this second phase that poets assume. These, say they, are the kilns the Cyclops used, when bending sturdily over the anvil to their eventimed strokes, they shook the dreadful thunder-bolt Nvith the beat of their ponderous hammers, so to give arms to Jupiter. This is a dishonouring tale, it has no voucher of its truth.
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