divine Soracte, whom we are the first to worship, for whom
the pine-tree glow is fed by heaps of wood, while ourselves, 10
thy votaries, strong in our piety, walk through the flame
over living embers, grant, all-powerful sire, that my arms
may wipe this scandal away. I seek no plunder or spoil,
no trophy for the conquest of a maid; the rest of my deeds
shall secure my fame; let but this terrible fiend fall vanquished 15
by wound of mine, I will return to the cities of my
fathers an unhonoured man.” Phœbus heard, and vouchsafed
in his heart that half the vow should speed, while