Sacred blood had spattered the white robes of a queen dressed for jubilee.

Evil unreturned to its doers must darken the sunshine of the famous days.

Corinth uttered a cry of lamentation and wrath.

'Where are the ill-doers, the spillers of blood, that we may spill their blood and avenge Ibycus, showing the gods that we are their helpers ?' But those robbers and murderers might not be found.

And the body of Ibycus was consumed upon a funeral pyre.
"The festival hours went by in Corinth.