Here on a lofty cliff, 'midst drifting clouds,
An ancient temple of Cenaean Jove
Gleams far and wide. When at the altars stood
The votive herd, and all the grove was full
Of hollow bellowings of the gilded bulls;785
Then Hercules put off his lion's skin
With gore besmeared, his heavy club laid down,
And freed his shoulders of the quiver's weight.
Then, gleaming brightly in the robe thou gav'st,
His shaggy locks with hoary poplar wreathed,