All speed, no patience; the slow smith's craft holds him fast.
The war god of the song Demodocus sings at the Phaeacian games: how he lay with golden Aphrodite in Hephaestus' own house, was pinned with her under the smith's invisible net, and was let up only when the gods had crowded the door to laugh. Grim in the war-stories, ridiculous in the song — the poem enjoys both.