himself in, and let down from its burst fastenings the
huge stone, suspended there by his father’s workmanship
in iron, and with that barrier fortified his straining doorway, 35
when lo! the hero of Tiryns[254] was there in the fury
of his soul: scanning every inlet he turns his face hither
and thither, gnashing with his teeth. Thrice in white
heat of wrath he surveys the whole mass of Aventine;
thrice he attempts in vain the stony portal; thrice,
staggering from the effort, he sits down in the hollow.
Before him stood a pointed crag with abrupt rocky sides