And hunt the long-eared hares.
The Dardanians on the walls raise a shout to the sky.
Hope comes to kindle wrath; they hurl their missiles strongly;
even as under black clouds cranes from the Strymon utter
their signal notes and sail clamouring across the sky, and
noisily stream down the gale.
—Aen. x. 262 foll.
Never at unawares did showers annoy: