And there with all his strength the threat'ning bull,
And all fierce, monstrous things, should press me hard;
Nay, though the very soil of earth should rise
And shriek[39] its rage at me from every side;
Though Sinis dire should hurl me through the air:
Though sore bestead and mangled, still would I
In silence bear it all. No beasts, no arms,
No weapon wielded by the hand of man,
Could force from me a single word of pain.1395
Alcmena: No woman's poison burns thy limbs, my son;