Just as they were on the threshold, “It is the moment
to pray for the oracle,” cries the maiden; “the god, the god
is here.” Thus as she spoke at the gate, her visage, her
hue changed suddenly—her hair started from its braid—her
bosom heaves and pants, her wild soul swells with 25
frenzy—she grows larger to the view, and her tones are
not of earth, as the breath of the divine presence comes
on her nearer and nearer. “What! a laggard at vows and
prayers? Æneas of Troy a laggard? for that is the only
spell to part asunder the great closed lips of the terror-smitten 30