Such fratricidal strife behold
No more!750
Why sing Actaeon's fate,
Whose brow the new-sprung antlers crowned
Of the long-lived stag, and whom his hounds,
Though their hapless master still, pursued?
In headlong haste through the mountains and woods,
He flees in fear, and with nimble feet755
He scours the glades and rocky passes,
In fear of the wind-tossed feathers hung