my own hand I will bring to thy temple yearly offerings,
and will set before thine altar a bullock with gilded brow, 5
snowy white, rearing his head to the height of his mother’s,
fit to butt with the horn and spurn up sand with the hoof.”
The father heard and from a cloudless quarter of the sky
thundered on the left; at the same instant twanged the
deadly bow. Forth flies the arrow from the string, whizzing 10
fearfully, passes through the head of Remulus, and cleaves
with its point his hollow temples. “Go, make valour the
sport of your boasting; the twice-captured Phrygians