And there the artist wrought a herd of beeves, High-horned, and sculptured all in gold and tin. They issued lowing from their stalls to seek Their pasture, by a murmuring stream, that ran Rapidly through its reeds. Four herdsmen, graved In gold, were with the beeves, and nine fleet dogs Followed. Two lions, seizing on a bull Among the foremost cattle, dragged him off Fearfully bellowing; hounds and herdsmen rushed To rescue him. The lions tore their prey, And lapped the entrails and the crimson blood. Vainly the shepherds pressed around and urged Their dogs, that shrank from fastening with their teeth Upon the lions, but stood near and bayed.
There also did illustrious Vulcan grave A fair, broad pasture, in a pleasant glade, Full of white sheep, and stalls, and cottages, And many a shepherd’s fold with sheltering roof.
And there illustrious Vulcan also wrought A dance—a maze like that which Daedalus, In the broad realm of Gnossus once contrived For fair-haired Ariadne. Blooming youths And lovely virgins, tripping to light airs, Held fast each other’s wrists. The maidens wore Fine linen robes; the youths had tunics on Lustrous as oil, and woven daintily. The maids wore wreaths of flowers; the young men swords Of gold in silver belts. They bounded now In a swift circle—as a potter whirls With both his hands a wheel to try its speed, Sitting before it—then again they crossed Each other, darting to their former place. A multitude around that joyous dance Gathered, and were amused, while from the crowd Two tumblers raised their song, and flung themselves About among the band that trod the dance.