All silent lie. At my command primeval groves
Have lost their shade;[15] the sun, abandoning[16] the day,
Has stood in middle heaven; while falling Hyades
Attest my charms.
But now thy sacred hour is come,770
O Phoebe. Thine these bonds with bloody hand entwined
With ninefold serpent coils; these cords I offer thee,
Which on his hybrid limbs Typhoeus bore, who shook
The throne of Jove. This vessel holds the dying blood
Of Nessus, faithless porter of Alcides' bride.775