But blasted they fell with the breath of her slaughter
Whose deeds of injustice made Justice their foe.
Her from his shrine sent the rock-throned Apollo,[n66]
The will of her high-purposed sire to obey,
The track of the blood-stained remorseless to follow,
Winged with sure death, though she lag by the way.
EPODE.
Ye rulers on Earth, fear the rulers in Heaven,
No aid by the gods to the froward is given;
For the bonds of our thraldom asunder are riven,