The Brygians which dwelt on the mainland-shore unto Artemis wrought. {470}
In the porchway thereof on his knees he fell; and the hero caught
In his hands, as he gasped his latest breath, the dark-red tide
As it welled from the gash, and he hurled that murder-rain, that it dyed
Crimson her silver veil and her robe, as she shrank aside.
And with swift side-glance the all-quelling Vengeance-fiend espied,
And her pitiless eye beheld that murderous deed they had done.
But the ends of the dead man’s limbs then severed Aison’s son:
Thrice licked he the blood from the sod, thrice spat it again to the dust,
As the slayer must do that atonement be made for the treachery-thrust.