mandet aquae quantoque cutem distendat echino. flagrat opus; crebro pulsatus perstrepit ictu;[121] 450 contexit varius penetrans Calchedona nidor. Ecce levis frondes a tergo concutit aura: credit tela Leo; valuit pro vulnere terror implevitque vicem iaculi, vitamque nocentem integer et sola formidine saucius efflat. 455 quis tibi tractandos pro pectine, degener, enses, quis solio campum praeponere suasit avito? quam bene texentum laudabas carmina tutus et matutinis pellebas frigora mensis! hic miserande iaces; hic, dum tua vellera vitas, 460 tandem fila tibi neverunt ultima Parcae. Iam vaga pallentem densis terroribus aulam fama quatit; stratas acies, deleta canebat agmina, Maeonios foedari caedibus agros, Pamphylos Pisidasque rapi. metuendus ab omni 465 Tarbigilus regione tonat; modo tendere cursum in Galatas, modo Bithynis incumbere fertur. sunt qui per Cilicas rupto descendere Tauro, sunt qui correptis ratibus terraque marique adventare ferant; geminantur vera pavoris 470 ingenio: longe spectari puppibus urbes accensas, lucere fretum ventoque citatas omnibus in pelago velis haerere favillas. Hos inter strepitus funestior advolat alter [121] I print Birt’s text; but unless _pulsatus_ be taken as a substantive (Baehrens’ suggestion, cf. P. Lat. Min. v. p. 120 l. 169) it is untranslatable. Emendations proposed are _pulsu Cos … icta_ Barthius; _pulsatus aper strepit_ Buecheler; _cultri sus_ or _pulpae ius_ Birt. The sense demands, however, some such word as _Bosporus_ to make a parallelism with _Calchedona_. Possibly the line ended _pulsatur Bosporus ictu, perstrepit_ being a gloss on _pulsatur_ and eventually ousting _Bosporus_. * * * * * Page 219 stuffing will be needed to fill the empty skin. The work of preparation goes on apace, Bosporus echoes to many a blow and the savoury smell envelops Chalcedon. Suddenly a gentle breeze stirs the foliage behind Leo’s back. He thinks it an arrow, and terror, taking a missile’s place, does duty for a wound. Untouched and stricken only by fear he breathes his last. Degenerate Roman, by whose advice didst thou exchange the comb for the sword, thine ancestral calling for the field of battle? How much better to praise in safety the work of the weavers at their looms and keep out the cold by means of morning feasts. Here thou hast suffered a wretched death; here, while thou soughtest to shirk thy spinning, the Fates have at last spun for thee the final thread.