And they took up the corse, and they laid him to rest in the strait earth-bed, {1500}
Mourning, and took thereafter the slayer’s sheep for a prey.
There also Mopsus, Ampykus’ son, in the selfsame day
Did a pitiless fate cut off. Stern doom might he nowise shun
By his prophecy-lore, forasmuch as avoidance of death is there none.
For a dread snake lay mid the sand from the mid-noon sun to hide,
Too sluggish to strike of his will at such as would turn aside;
Nor yet would he dart full face upon one that in fear shrank back.
Yet into whomso but once he should spit his venom black,
Of all that on life-sustaining earth draw living breath,