and shakes
"A spear entwisted with the curling vine.
"Round seem to prowl the tiger, and the lynx,
"And savage forms of panthers, various mark'd.
"Up leap'd the men, by sudden madness mov'd;
"Or terror only: Medon first appear'd
"Blackening to grow, with shooting fins; his form
"Flatten'd; and in a curve was bent his spine.
"Him Lycabas address'd;--what wonderous shape
"Art thou receiving?--speaking, wide his jaws
"Expanded; flatten'd down, his nose appear'd;
"A scaly covering cloth'd his harden'd skin.
"Lybis to turn the firm fixt oars attempts,
"But while he tries, perceives his fingers shrink;
"And hands, now hands no longer, fins he sees.
"Another round the cordage strives his arms
"To clasp,--but arms he has not,--down he leaps
"Broad on his crooked back, and seeks the waves.
"Forkt is their new-made tail; like Luna's form
"Bent in the skies, ere half her orb is fill'd.
"Bounding all round they leap;--now down they dash,
"Besprinkling wide the foamy drops; now 'merge;
"And now re-diving, plunge in playful sport:
"As chorus regular they act, and move
"Their forms in shapes lascivious; spouting high,
"The briny waters through their nostrils wide.
"Of twenty now, (our ship so many bore)
"I only stand unchang'd; with trembling limbs,
"And petrify'd with fear. The god himself,
"Scarce courage in my mind inspires; when thus,--
"Pale terror from thy bosom drive, and seek
"The isle of Naxos.--Thither come, I tend
"On smoking altars, Bacchus' sacred rites."

Him Pentheus angry stopp'd. "Thy tedious tale,
"Form'd to divert my rage, in vain is told.
"Here, men, swift drag him hence!--dispatch his soul,
"Driven from his body, down to Stygian night;
"By pangs excruciating." Straight close pent,
In solid dungeon is Acoetes thrown,
While they the instruments of death prepare;
The cruel steel; the flames;--spontaneous fly
Wide ope the dungeon doors; spontaneous fall
The fetters from his arms, and freed he goes.
Stubborn, the son of Echion still persists;
But sends no messenger: himself proceeds,
To where Cythaeron, for the sacred rites
Selected, rings with Bacchanalian songs,
And outcries shrill. As foams an high-bred steed,
When through the speaking brass the warlike trump,
Sounds the glad signal; and with ardor burns
For battle: so the air, with howlings loud
Re-echoing, Pentheus moves, and doubly flames
His