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He from the peaks of Olympus descended, his bosom in anger, Bearing on shoulder the bow and the well-fenc'd girth of his quiver. Rattled the arrows therein on the back of the Deity wrathful, Step upon step as he moved; but he came like the darkness of Nightfall. Then did he seat him apart from the ships, and discharging an arrow, Fearful afar was the clang of the silvery bow of Apollo.
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