He mock’d the gods with his fast fleeting breath;
Gave up the ghost: thus met eternal death!
* * * * *
Three days, or more, the god lay prostrate, bare,
With naught of covering save his ruffled hair,
(And not a creature chancèd to come near,)
Stretched to his full across his bed of leaves;
His hands were clench’d, as firm as iron greaves;
And there he laid; when Daphne,[121] passing by,
Caught the reflection of his glaring eye