Have caught the fish and find the bait entire:
They even have their child or changeling back
To trade with, turn to account a second time.
The brother, presumably might tell a tale
Or give a warning,—he, too, flies the field,
And with him vanish help and hope of help.
They have caught me in the cavern where I fell
Covered my loudest cry for human aid
With this enormous paving-stone of shame.
Well, are we demigods or merely clay?