And to the gods made fervent prayer
That they would to our aid repair:
When, suddenly, the winds arise,
From off the trees the fresh leaves fall,
The cedars groan with creaking cries,
The goats away are scattered all.
Down sank I, when, above the noise
Of the dire storm, I heard a voice
Thus speaking: ‘Furious war does wage
Racha[168] ’gainst sinners; to his rage