Then went with them Lykus, and gifts in their galley to bear gave he
Without number, and sent his son, their voyaging comrade to be.
There did the doom fate-spoken descend upon Abas’ son,
Idmon, in soothsaying peerless: but safety for him was there none
In his soothsaying lore, for that now must he die by the doom decreed.
For it chanced that there lay in a reedy river’s water-mead,
Cooling his flanks and his mighty belly wallowed in mire,
A wild boar gleaming-tusked, so baleful a monster and dire {820}
That of him were the meadow-haunting Nymphs themselves adread.
No man knew his lair; alone in the fen wide-stretching he fed.