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BOOK VIII.
263

The oxen at departing fill
With noisy utterance grove and hill,
And breathe a farewell low:
When hark! a heifer from the den
Makes answer to the sound again,
And mocks her wily foe.
Black choler filled Alcides' heart:
He snatches club and bow and dart,
And scales the mountain's height:
Then, nor till then, was Cacus seen
With quailing eye, and troubled mien:
Swifter than swiftest wind he flies
At once, and to the cavern hies,
While terror wings his flight.
Scarce had he gained the cavern door
And lowered the rock that hung before
Fixed by his father's art: the strain
Makes the stout doorposts start again:
When lo! the fierce Tirynthian came,
His vengeful spirit all on flame,
Darts here and there his blazing eye,
If haply entrance he may spy,
And grinds for rage his teeth;
And thrice the mountain he surveyed,
Thrice the blocked gate in vain essayed,
Thrice rested, and took breath.
A pointed rock, on all sides steep,
Rose high above that dungeon-keep,
Abrupt and craggy, fitted best
For noisome birds to build their nest.
This, as it frowned above the tide,
He pushed from the remoter side,
And from its socket tore:
Then hurled it down: the high heavens crack,
The river to its source runs back,
And shore recoils from shore.