through the tribes of Greece, and the midst of Elis’
city, and bidding men accord him a god’s homage. Madman!
to counterfeit the storm-cloud and the unrivalled
thunderbolt with the rattle of brass and the beat of
horses’ horny hoofs. But the almighty sire from the
depth of his cloudy dwelling hurled his weapon—no 10
futile firebrand his, no pinewood’s smoky glare—and
dashed him headlong down with that tremendous blast.
Tityos, too, the foster-child of Earth’s common breast, it
was mine to see: his body lies extended over nine whole