to lengthen out the span of his bed-rid sire, chose rather
to know the virtue of simples and the laws of the healing
art, and to practise in silence an unambitious craft.
There stood Æneas, fretting impatiently, propped on his
massy spear, with a warrior concourse about him, and
Iulus all in tears, yet himself unmoved by their sorrow. 5
The aged leech, his garments swathed round him in
Pæon’s fashion, is plying busily the healing hand and
Phœbus’ sovereign remedies all to no end, all to no end
pulling at the dart and griping the steel with the pincer.