No bird was seen in air, no beast of prey
In plain or forest: from the stream he drew
The crocodile: the eagle from the sky.
Armed for the strife, I saw him towering rise
Huge as a mountain, with his hideous hair
Dragging upon the ground: his long black tongue
Shut up the path; his eyes two lakes of blood.
Forward I sprang, and in a moment drove
A diamond-pointed arrow through his tongue,
Fixing him to the ground. Another went