muster all your powers of courage or of skill: mount on
wing, if you list, to the stars aloft, or hide in the cavernous
depth of earth.” Shaking his head, he replied: “I quail
not at your fiery words, insulting foe: it is Heaven that
makes me quail, and Jove my enemy.” No more he 30
spoke: but, sweeping his eyes round, espies a huge stone,
a stone ancient and huge, which chanced to be lying on
the plain, set as some field’s boundary, to forefend disputes
of ownership: scarce could twelve picked men lift
it on their shoulders, such puny frames as earth produces 35