With his magic wand, he made the slumber sounder, and then cut off the head with its hundred starry eyes. […] In that last fierce struggle, one of the bull’s horns was broken off. […] In his agony, he tried to tear off the fatal shirt, but it stuck fast to his skin. […] She changed him into a partridge, and he flew off across the waters. […] The stag was resting on the soft grass, under a tree, and Cyparissus stood a little way off, practicing with his bow and arrow.