spat crimson blood. 
    Cheered yet again the princes, when they saw
    The lips and jowl all seamed with piteous scars,
    And the swoln visage and the half-closed eyes. 
    Still the prince teased him, feinting here or there
    A thrust; and when he saw him helpless all,
    Let drive beneath his eyelids at his nose,
    And laid it bare to the bone.  The stricken man
    Measured his length supine amid the fern. 
    Keen was the fighting when he rose again,
    Deadly the blows their sturdy gauntlets dealt. 
    But while Bebrycia’s chieftain sparred round chest
    And utmost shoulder, the resistless foe
    Made his whole face one mass of hideous wounds. 
    While the one sweated all his bulk away,
    And, late a giant, seemed a pigmy now,
    The other’s limbs waxed ever as he fought
    In semblance and in size.  But in what wise
    The child of Zeus brought low that man of greed,
    Tell, Muse, for thine is knowledge:  I unfold
    A secret not mine own; at thy behest
    Speak or am dumb, nor speak but as thou wilt.

      Amycus, athirst to do some doughty deed,
    Stooping aslant from Polydeuces’ lunge
    Locked their left hands; and, stepping out, upheaved
    From his right hip his ponderous other-arm. 
    And hit and harmed had been Amyclae’s king;
    But, ducking low, he smote with one stout fist
    The foe’s left temple—­fast the life-blood streamed
    From the grim rift—­and on his shoulder fell. 
    While with his left he reached the mouth, and made
    The set teeth tingle; and, redoubling aye
    His plashing blows, made havoc of his face
    And crashed into his cheeks, till all abroad
    He lay, and throwing up his arms disclaimed
    The strife, for he was even at death’s door. 
    No wrong the vanquished suffered at thy hands,
    O Polydeuces; but he sware an oath,
    Calling his sire Poseidon from the depths,
    Ne’er to do violence to a stranger more.

      Thy tale, O prince, is told.  Now sing I thee,
    Castor the Tyndarid, lord of rushing horse
    And shaking javelin, corsleted in brass.

PART II.

    The sons of Zeus had borne two maids away,
    Leucippus’ daughters.  Straight in hot pursuit
    Went the two brethren, sons of Aphareus,
    Lynceus and Idas bold, their plighted lords. 
    And when the tomb of Aphareus was gained,
    All leapt from out their cars, and front to front
    Stood, with their ponderous spears and orbed shields. 
    First Lynceus shouted loud from ’neath his helm: 

    “Whence, sirs, this lust for strife?  Why, sword in hand,
    Raise ye this coil about your neighbours’ wives? 
    To us Leucippus these his daughters gave,
    Long ere ye saw them:  they are ours on oath.