himself to share the spoil with us: and then on the winding 5
shore pile up couches for the banquet, and regale on the
dainty fare. But on a sudden, with an appalling swoop
from the hills, the Harpies are upon us, flapping their
wings with a mighty noise—they tear the food in pieces,
and spoil all with their filthy touch, while fearful screeches 10
blend with foul smells. Again, in a deep retreat under a
hollow rock, with trees and crisp foliage all about us, we set
out the board and put new fire on new altars. Again,
from another quarter of the sky, out of their hidden lair,