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.