Which prompts night-faring, marshals them to breakfastOn the town’s store, according to no billetOf sharing, but as each drew lot of fortune.In the spear-captured Troic habitationsHouse they already: from the frosts upmethralAnd dews delivered, will they, luckless creatures,Without a watch to keep, slumber all night through.And if they fear the gods, the city-guarders,