My earliest labor, glitters in the sky, 945
Inflamed with wrath, and threatens with his fangs.
Now, surely, will he some bright star devour.
With gaping jaws and menacing he stands;
He breathes out fire, and on his flaming neck
His mane he tosses. Soon will he o'erleap
With one huge bound the fruitful autumn's stars,
And those which frozen winter brings to view,950
And slay with savage lunge the vernal Bull.
Amphitr.: What sudden ill is this? Why dost thou turn