one thing more, even a sign from heaven, no spell so potent
to work on Italian minds and make them dupes of the
marvel. Flying through the ruddy sky, Jove’s golden
bird was chasing the river fowl, a winged noisy multitude, 5
when suddenly swooping on the water he carries off in
his tyrant claws a stately swan. The Italians are all
attention, when lo! the whole mass of birds face about with
a scream, marvellous to see, their wings darkening the air,
and in dense cloud press on their enemy, till overborne by 10
sheer weight he gives way, drops the booty from his talons