Classic Poem

Straight for the Mount where they may safely rest,
Glutted with slaughter and revolt, they fly;
Fears lash them on, they feel 'tis now to die,
And every air with lion is impressed.

They trample newt and hydra, and they breast
Ravines, woods, torrents, as they hurry by,
Where now appears against the distant sky
Olympus', Ossa's or dark Pelion's crest.

At times, some bold one in his maddened flight
Quick rearing turns about, then with dazed sight
Rejoins his brethren with a single bound;

For there the moon in brightest full has made
Extend behind them—nought could more confound—
The giant horror of Herculean shade.