blaze of light. Over the top of the house we see it pass, 20
and mark its course along the sky till it buries itself lustrously
in Ida’s wood—then comes a long furrowed line
of light, and a sulphurous smoke fills the space all about.
Then at length overcome, my father raises himself towards
the sky, addresses the gods, and does reverence to the 25
sacred meteor: ‘No more, no more delay from me. I
follow your guidance, and am already in the way by which
you would lead me. Gods of my country! preserve my
house, preserve my grandchild. Yours in this augury—your