In the Baal Cycle, Ba'al Hadad is challenged by and defeats Yam, using two magical weapons (called \"Driver\" and \"Chaser\") made for him by Kothar-wa-Khasis. Afterward, with the help of Athirat and Anat, Ba'al persuades El to allow him a palace. El approves, and the palace is built by Kothar-wa-Khasis. After the palace is constructed, Ba'al gives forth a thunderous roar out of the palace window and challenges Mot. Mot enters through the window and swallows Ba'al, sending him to the Underworld. With no one to give rain, there is a terrible drought in Ba'al's absence. The other deities, especially El and Anat, are distraught that Ba'al has been taken to the Underworld. Anat goes to the Underworld, attacks Mot with a knife, grinds him up into pieces, and scatters him far and wide. With Mot defeated, Ba'al is able to return and refresh the Earth with rain.
In the aftermath of the Republic victory on Christophsis, Yoda ordered Skywalker and his mentor, General Obi-Wan Kenobi to investigate the abduction of Rotta, son of the Hutt crime lord Jabba Desilijic Tiure. The search for the Huttlet led Skywalker and Torrent Company to Teth, a planet located in the Wild Space territory. They launched a direct assault on the B'omarr Order Monastery, but were overwhelmed by two Separatist battalions led by the assassin Asajj Ventress. However, Rex and the remaining soldiers of Torrent Company continued to fight the battle droids while Skywalker and Tano rescued Rotta. Although neither Skywalker or his apprentice were able to assist the clones due to the importance of the mission, the arrival of Kenobi and the 212th turned the tide of battle in the Republic's favor.
Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house of the farmerStood on the side of a hill commanding the sea; and a shadySycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine wreathing around it.Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath; and a footpathLed through an orchard wide, and disappeared in the meadow.Under the Sycamore-tree were hives overhung by a penthouse,Such as the traveller sees in regions remote by the roadside,Built o'er a box for the poor, or the blessed image of Mary.Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the well with its moss-grownBucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough for the horses.Shielding the house from storms, on the north, were the barns and the farm-yard,There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the antique ploughs and the harrows;There were the folds for the sheep; and there, in his feathered seraglio,Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the cock, with the selfsameVoice that in ages of old had startled the penitent Peter.Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves a village. In each oneFar o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch; and a staircase,Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous corn-loft.There too the dove-cot stood, with its meek and innocent inmatesMurmuring ever of love; while above in the variant breezesNumberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sang of mutation.
Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection and stillness.Day with its burden and heat had departed, and twilight descendingBrought back the evening star to the sky, and the herds to the homestead.Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks on each other,And with their nostrils distended inhaling the freshness of evening.Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful heifer,Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that waved from her collar,Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human affection.Then came the shepherd back with his bleating flocks from the seaside,Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them followed the watch-dog,Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride of his instinct,Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and superblyWaving his bushy tail, and urging forward the stragglers;Regent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept; their protector,When from the forest at night, through the starry silence, the wolves howled.Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains from the marshes,Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its odor.Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their manes and their fetlocks,While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and ponderous saddles,Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tassels of crimson,Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy with blossoms.Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded their uddersUnto the milkmaid's hand; whilst loud and in regular cadenceInto the sounding pails the foaming streamlets descended.Lowing of cattle and peals of laughter were heard in the farm-yard,Echoed back by the barns. Anon they sank into stillness;Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the barn-doors,Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent.
Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evangeline lingered.All was silent within; and in vain at the door and the windowsStood she, and listened and looked, till, overcome by emotion,\"Gabriel!\" cried she aloud with tremulous voice; but no answerCame from the graves of the dead, nor the gloomier grave of the living.Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless house of her father.Smouldered the fire on the hearth, on the board was the supper untasted,Empty and drear was each room, and haunted with phantoms of terror.Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of her chamber.In the dead of the night she heard the disconsolate rain fallLoud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree by the window.Keenly the lightning flashed; and the voice of the echoing thunderTold her that God was in heaven, and governed the world he created!Then she remembered the tale she had heard of the justice of Heaven;Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefully slumbered till morning.
Bright rose the sun next day; and all the flowers of the gardenBathed his shining feet with their tears, and anointed his tressesWith the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of crystal.\"Farewell!\" said the priest, as he stood at the shadowy threshold;\"See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his fasting and famine,And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the bridegroom was coming.\"\"Farewell!\" answered the maiden, and, smiling, with Basil descendedDown to the river's brink, where the boatmen already were waiting.Thus beginning their journey with morning, and sunshine, and gladness,Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was speeding before them,Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert.Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that succeeded,Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest or river,Nor, after many days, had they found him; but vague and uncertainRumors alone were their guides through a wild and desolate Country;Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of Adayes,Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the garrulous landlord,That on the day before, with horses and guides and companions,Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the prairies.
Far in the West there lies a desert land, where the mountainsLift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous summits.Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge, like a gateway,Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's wagon,Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway and Owyhee.Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind-river Mountains,Through the Sweet-water Valley precipitate leaps the Nebraska;And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and the Spanish sierras,Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the wind of the desert,Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, descend to the ocean,Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemn vibrations.Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, beautiful prairies,Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and sunshine,Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple amorphas.Over them wandered the buffalo herds, and the elk and the roebuck;Over them wandered the wolves, and herds of riderless horses;Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are weary with travel;Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ishmael's children,Staining the desert with blood; and above their terrible war-trailsCircles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vulture,Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered in battle,By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the heavens.Here and there rise smokes from the camps of these savage marauders;Here and there rise groves from the margins of swift-running rivers;And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk of the desert,Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots by the brook-side,And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline heaven,Like the protecting hand of God inverted above them.
Hesiod, Theogony 383 ff (trans. Evelyn-White) (Greek epic C8th or C7th B.C.) :\"And Styx, daughter of Okeanos (Oceanus), lying in love with Pallas, bore in their halls Zelos (Zelus, Rivalry), and sweet-stepping Nike (Victory), and also Kratos (Cratus, Strength) and Bia (Force), who are her conspicuous children, and these have no home that is not the home of Zeus, no resting place nor road, except where that god has guided them, but always they are housed by Zeus of the heavy thunder. For this was the will of Styx, the Okeanis (Oceanid), never-perishing, on the day when Olympios [Zeus] . . . summoned all the immortal gods to tall Olympos and said that any god who fought on his side with the Titanes should never be beated out of his privilege, but each should maintain the position he had had before among the immortals, he said, too, that the god who under Kronos (Cronus) had gone without position or privilege should under him be raised to these, according to justice. And Styx the imperishable was first to come to Olympos bringing her children, as her own father [Okeanos] had advised her. Zeus gave her position, and gave her great gifts further, for he established her to be the oath of the immorta