Chapter_164

6 0 00

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.