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back and head, and breast defended by his enemy’s shield he stood his ground. Then gathering again into one dense body the Ogygians advance: instantly Tydeus draws his Bistonian blade, great Oeneus’ warlike gift, and attacking every quarter alike confronts now these, now those, and with his sword strikes down their glittering weapons; their numbers hinder them, and their arms impede each other; no strength is in their efforts, but their blows go astray on their own fellows, and falling they are entangled in their own disorder. He awaits their onset, a narrow mark for javelins, and resists them, firm and unshakable. Not otherwise—if Getic Phlegra be worthy credence^[1]—stood Briareus vast in bulk against embattled heaven, contemning on this hand Phoebus’ quiver, on that the serpents of stern Pallas, here Mars’ Pelethronian pinewood shaft, with point of iron, and yonder the thunderbolts oft changed for new by weary Pyracmon, and yet complaining, though combated in vain by all Olympus, that so many hands were idle; no fainter was he in ardour, with shield outheld now this way, now that, himself retiring, doubling round, and ever and anon darting on their irresolute lines and pressing his vantage, while he pulls forth the many javelins that are stuck quivering all about his shield, an armoury for the hero; and many a bitter wound he suffers, yet none gains entrance to life’s secret courses, nor may hope to be deadly. A whirling stroke deals he at raging Deilochus, and bids Phegeus, who threatens attack with axe upraised, go join him beneath the shades, Direcean Gyas too and Lycophontes of Echionian