XXXI. "Sharp-pointed, sheer above the dungeon, stood
A crag, fit home for evil birds to light.
This, where it frowned to leftward o'er the flood,
Alcides shook, and, heaving from the right,
Tore from its roots, and headlong down the height
Impelled it. With the impulse and the fall
Heaven thunders; back the river in affright
Shrinks to its source. Bank leaps from bank, and all		271
The mountain, yawning, shows the monster's cave and hall.
XXXII. "Stript of their roof, the dark abodes far back
Lie open to their inmost; e'en as though
Earth, rent asunder with convulsive wrack,
And opening to the centre, gaped to show
Hell's regions, and the gloomy realms of woe,
Abhorr'd of gods, and bare to mortals lay
The vast abyss, while in the gulf below
The pallid spectres, huddling in dismay,		280
Looked up with dazzled eyes, at influx of the day.
XXXIII. "Caught in his den, the startled monster strove,
With uncouth bellowing, to elude the light.
With darts Alcides plies him from above,
Huge trunks and millstones seizing for the fight,
Hard pressed at length, and desperate for flight,
Black smoke he vomits, wondrous to be told,
That shrouds the cavern, and obscures the sight,
And, denser than the night, around his hold		289
Thick darkness, mixt with fire, and smothering fumes are rolled.
XXXIV. "Scorn filled Alcides, and his wrath outbroke,
And through the fire, indignant, with a bound
He dashes, where thickest rolled the cloud of smoke,
And in black vapours all the cave was drowned.
Here, vomiting his idle flames, he found
Huge Cacus in the darkness. Like a thread
He twists him—chokes him—pins him to the ground,
The strangled eyeballs starting from his head;		298
Blood leaves the blackened throat, the giant form lies dead.
XXXV. "Then suddenly, as back the doors are torn,
The gloomy den stands open, and the prey,
The stolen oxen, and the spoils forsworn,
Are bared to heaven, and by the heels straightway
He drags the grisly carcase to the day.
All, thronging round, with hungry gaze admire
The monster. Lost in wonder and dismay
They mark the eyes, late terrible with ire,		307
The face, the bristly breast, the jaw's extinguished fire.

XXXVI. "Henceforth they solemnise this day divine,
Their glad posterity from year to year,
[Potitius first, and the Pinarian line,]
Preserve the praise of Hercules; and here
This altar named 'the Greatest' did they rear.
(Greatest 'twill be for ever). Come then, all,
And give such worth due honour. Wreathe your hair,
And pass the wine-bowl merrily, and call		316
Each on our common God, the guardian of us all."
XXXVII. He spake; the God's own poplar, fleckt with white,
Hung, twining o'er his brows. His right hand bore
The sacred bowl. All, gladdening, hail the rite,
And pour libations, and the Gods adore.
'Twas evening, and the Western star once more
Sloped towards Olympus. Forth Potitius came,
Leading the priests, girt roughly, as of yore,
With skins of beasts, and bearing high the flame.		325
Fresh, dainty gifts they bring, the second course to frame.

XXXVIII. Next came the [Salians,] dancing as they sung
Around the blazing altars. Poplar crowned
Their brows; a double chorus, old and young,
Chant forth the glories and the deeds renowned
Of Hercules; how, potent to confound
[His stepdame's hate,] he crushed the serpents twain;
What towns in war he levelled to the ground,
Troy and OEchalia; how with infinite pain		334
[Eurystheus'] tasks he sped, and Juno's fates were vain: