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Moved by the danger of a youth so brave,
Myself now snatch'd an oar, and sprung to save:
When sudden, blackening down the mountain's height,
Another crowd pursued his panting flight;
And soon an arrowy and a flinty shower
Thick o'er our heads the fierce barbarians pour,
Nor pour'd in vain; a feather'd arrow stood
Fix'd in my leg, and drank the gushing blood.
Vengeance
