. The literature of all nations and all ages; history, character, and incident . th; At once their rolling eyes the light forsook; At once their souls were yielded forth to air. Alphenor saw, and smote his grieving breast;Flew to their pallid limbs, and as he raisedTheir bodies, in the pious ofl&ce fell:For Phoebus drove his fate-winged arrow deepThrough what his heart inclosed. Sudden withdrawn,On the barbed head the mangled lungs were stuck;And high in air his soul gushed forth in beardless Damasichthon by a woundNot single fell, as those; struck where the legTo form begins, and wh
. The literature of all nations and all ages; history, character, and incident . th; At once their rolling eyes the light forsook; At once their souls were yielded forth to air. Alphenor saw, and smote his grieving breast;Flew to their pallid limbs, and as he raisedTheir bodies, in the pious ofl&ce fell:For Phoebus drove his fate-winged arrow deepThrough what his heart inclosed. Sudden withdrawn,On the barbed head the mangled lungs were stuck;And high in air his soul gushed forth in beardless Damasichthon by a woundNot single fell, as those; struck where the legTo form begins, and where the nervous hamA yielding joint supplies. The deadly dartTo draw essaying, in his throat, full drivenUp to the feathered head, another came:The sanguine flood expelled it, gushing high,Cutting the distant air. With outstretched armsIlioneus, the last, besought in vain;Exclaiming,— Spare me, spare me, all ye gods ! Witless that all not joined to cause his god was touched with pity, touched too late,—Already shot the irrevocable dart: I^ATIN LITERATURJS. 145. Yet liglit the blow was given, and mild the woundThat pierced his heart, and sent his soul aloft. The rumored ill; the mourning peoples groans;The servants tears, soon made the mother knowThe sudden ruin: wondering first she stands,To see so great Heavens power, then angry flamesIndignant, that such power they dare to sire Amphion in his bosom plungedHis sword, and ended life at once and ! how removed this Niobe from herWho drove so lately from Latonas faneThe pious crowds; who marched in lofty state,TLrough every street of Thebes, an envied sight!Now to be wept b)- even her bitterest upon their gelid limbs she lies;Nov/ this, now that, her trembling kisses press;Her livid arms high-stretching unto heaven,Exclaims,— Enjoy, Latona, cruel dame,My sorrows; feed on all my wretched woes;Glut with my load of grief thy savage soul;Feast thy fell heart with seven funereal scenes;Tr
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