trying might and main to dislodge—it keeps nodding 15
menacingly, its leafy head palsied and shaken, till at
last, gradually overborne by wound after wound, it has
given its death-groan, and fallen uprooted in ruined
length along the hill. I come down, and, following my
heavenly guide, thread my way through flames and foemen, 20
while weapons glance aside and flames retire.
“Now when at last I had reached the door of my father’s
house, that old house I knew so well, my sire, whom it
was my first resolve to carry away high up the hills—who