While hovering near, with miserable moan,
The drooping mother wailed her children gone.
The mother last, as round the nest she flew,
Seized by the beating wing, the monster slew:
Nor long survived: to marble turned, he stands
A lasting prodigy on Aulis sands.
Such was the will of Jove; and hence we dare
Trust in his omen, and support the war.”[[816]]
And regarding the second—the bird—the poet says:
“Jove’s bird on rounding pinions beat the skies,