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METAMORPHOSES BOOK III be crushes in his constricting folds, and some he stifles with the deadly corruption of his poisoned breath.

The sun had reached the middle heavens and drawn close the shadows. And now Cadmus, wondering what has delayed his companions, starts out to trace them. For shield, he has a lion’s skin; for weapon, a spear with glittering iron point and a javelin; and, better than all weapons, a courageous soul. When he enters the wood and sees the corpses of his friends all slain, and victorious above them their huge-bodied foe licking their piteous wounds with bloody tongue, he cries: “O ye poor forms, most faithful friends, either I shall avenge your death or be your comrade in it." So saying, hc heaved up a massive stone with his right hand and with mighty effort hurled its mighty bulk. Under such a blow, high ramparts would have fallen, towers and all; but the serpent Went unscathed, protected against that strong stroke by his scales as by an iron doublet and by his hard, dark skin. But that hard skin cannot withstand the javelin too, which now is ﬁxed in the middle fold of his tough back and penetrates with its iron head deep into his ﬂank. The creature, mad with pain, twists back his head, views well his wound, and bites at the spear—shaft ﬁxed therein. Then, when by violent eﬂ'orts he had loosened this all round, with difﬁculty he tore it out; but the iron head remained ﬁxed in the backbone. Then indeed fresh fuel was added to his native wrath; his throat swells with full veins, and white foam ﬂecks his horrid jaws. The earth resounds with his scraping scales, and such rank breath as exhales from the Stygian cave befouls the tainted air. Now he coils in huge spiral folds; now shoots up, straight