Now when they came unto the plot of ground Where stood the boar, hounds dead about him lay Or sprawled about, bleeding from many a wound, But still the others held him well at bay, Nor had he been bestead thus ere that day. But yet, seeing Atys, straight he rushed at him, Speckled with foam, bleeding in flank and limb. Then Atys stood and cast his well-steeled spear With a great shout, and straight and well it flew; For now the broad blade cutting through the ear, A stream of blood from out the shoulder drew. And therewithal another, no less true, Adrastus cast, whereby the boar had died: But Atys drew the bright sword from his side, And to the tottering beast he drew anigh: But as the sun's rays ran adown the blade Adrastus threw a javelin hastily, For of the mighty beast was he afraid, Lest by his wounds he should not yet be stayed, But with a last rush cast his life away, And dying there, the son of Croesus slay. But even as the feathered dart he hurled, His strained, despairing eyes, beheld the end, And changed seemed all the fashion of the world, And past and future into one did blend, As he beheld the fixed eyes of his friend, That no reproach had in them, and no fear, For Death had seized him ere he thought him near. Adrastus shrieked, and running up he caught The falling man, and from his bleeding side Drew out the dart, and, seeing that death had brought Deliverance to him, he thereby had died; But ere his hand the luckless steel could guide, And he the refuge of poor souls could win, The horror-stricken huntsmen had rushed in. And these, with blows and cries he heeded nought His unresisting hands made haste to bind; Then of the alder-boughs a bier they wrought, And laid the corpse thereon, and 'gan to wind Homeward amidst the tangled wood and blind, And going slowly, at the eventide, Some leagues from Sardis did that day abide. Onward next morn the slaughtered man they bore, With him that slew him, and at end of day They reached the city, and with mourning sore Toward the King's palace did they take their way. He in an open western chamber lay Feasting, though inwardly his heart did burn Until that Atys should to him return. And when those wails first smote upon his ear He set the wine-cup down, and to his feet He rose, and bitter all-consuming fear Swallowed his joy, and nigh he went to meet That which was coming through the weeping street; But in the end he thought it good to wait, And stood there doubting all the ills of fate. But when at last up to that royal place Folk brought the thing he once had held so dear Still stood the King, staring with ghastly face As they brought forth Adrastus and the bier, But spoke at last, slowly without a tear, "O Phrygian man, that I did purify, Is it through thee that Atys came to die?"