unworthy passion. Such are the tales the fiendlike goddess 10
spreads from tongue to tongue. Then, in due course, she
turns her steps to King Iarbas, and inflames him with her
rumours, and piles his indignation high. He, the son of
Ammon, from the ravished embrace of a Garamantian
nymph, built within his broad realms a hundred temples 15
to Jove, and in each temple an altar; there he had consecrated
an ever-wakeful fire, the god’s unsleeping sentry,
a floor thick with victims’ blood, and doors wreathed with
particoloured garlands. And he, frenzied in soul, and