Now that their watch-dog has been stolen away.
[He catches sight of his children.]
But see where lurk the children of the king,
The impious spawn of Lycus whom I hate.
To your detested sire I'll send you now.
Let darting arrows from my bowstring fly;990
Such errands fit my noble weapons well.
[He aims an arrow at one of the children.]
Amphitr.: What will he do in his blind passion's rage?
Now he has bent his mighty bow, and now