But creatures beloved not of Zeus, things haunting
Earth’s crypts, and the sea’s gulfs storm-uprolled,
Flee panic-struck, hearing the Pierids chanting,
As was Typhon, whom Tartarus’ dread depths hold,
The hundred-headed, the hate undying
Of the Gods, in Cilician caverns of old
Nursed. Sicily now and her sea-defying
Cliffs above Kyme are heavily lying
On his shag-haired breast, and the cloud-kissing height
Of a crag-column crusheth him—Etna, white
Through the livelong year with snows that bite
With ice-fangs cold.