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Let your arrows make the Danaans pay for my tears shed.'
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so he spoke in prayer,
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and Phoebus Apollo heard him,
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and strode down along the pinnacles of Olympus,
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angered in his heart,
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carrying across his shoulders the bow and the hooded quiver,
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and the shafts clashed on the shoulders of the god,
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walking angrily.
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He came as night comes down,
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and knelt then apart and opposite the ships,
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and let go an arrow.
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Terrible was the clash from the bow of silver.