The river ran backward and the banks jumped sideways, And Cacus’ den stood open, that great palace Under the rock, the chambered vault of shadows. An earthquake, so, might bring to light the kingdoms Of the world below the world, the pallid regions Loathed by the gods, the gulf of gloom, where phantoms Shiver and quake as light descends upon them. So there was Cacus, desperate in the light, Caught in the hollow rock, howling and roaring As Hercules rained weapons down upon him, Everything he could use, from boughs to millstones, But Cacus still had one way out of the danger: A cloud of smoke rolled out of his jaws; the cave Darkened to utter blackness, thick night rolling With fitful glints of fire. This was too much For Hercules in his fury; he jumped down through it, Through fire, where the smoke came rolling forth the thickest, Where the black billows seethed around the cavern. And Cacus, in the darkness, to no purpose Poured forth his fire and smoke. Hercules grabbed him, Twisted him into a knot, hung on and choked him Till the eyes bulged out and the throat was dry of blood. He tore the doors loose, and the house was open; People could see the lost and stolen plunder, And Hercules dragged the shapeless ugly carcass Out by the feet, a fascinating object For the gaze of men, the terrible eyes, the muzzle, The hairy chest, and the fire dead in the gullet. Ever since then we keep this day, rejoicing In honor of our deliverance; Potitius Was founder of the rite, Pinaria’s household Custodian of the service. In this grove We set our altar, calling it the greatest, And greatest it shall be, to me, forever. Join with us, then, in honor of all that glory, Bind wreaths around your temples, reach the wine-cup, Call with good-will upon our common god.” He veiled his hair with the two-colored poplar In Hercules’ honor, and held out the goblet; All made libation and prayer.