356-362 Whosoever met the dragoness, the day of doom would
sweep him away, until the lord Apollo, who deals death from afar, shot a
strong arrow at her. Then she, rent with bitter pangs, lay drawing great
gasps for breath and rolling about that place. An awful noise swelled up
unspeakable as she writhed continually this way and that amid the wood:
and so she left her life, breathing it forth in blood. Then Phoebus
Apollo boasted over her: