Then slew he Sthenelus, and base

Anchemolus, of Rhœtus' race,
Who dared in wantonness of crime
His step-dame's wedded couch to climb.
Ye too were tumbled on the plain,
Larides, Thymber, brethren twain,
Of Daucus' honourable strain;
So like, the sweet confusion e'en
⁠Their parents' eyes betrayed;
But Pallas twin and twin between
⁠Has cruel difference made:
For Thymber's head the steel has shorn;
Larides' severed hand forlorn
⁠Feels blindly for its lord:
The quivering fingers, half alive,
Twitch with convulsive gripe, and strive
⁠To close upon the sword.

⁠Now with his warning in their ear,
⁠His deeds before their eye,
Anger and shame o'erpowering fear,
⁠His mates to combat fly.
Lo, hurrying past in full career,
Falls Rhœteus by the Evandrian spear.
That spear was meant for Ilus' death,
But Ilus gains a moment's breath
⁠Doomed in the next to die:
While Rhœteus comes between and bleeds,
From warlike Teuthras as he speeds
⁠And Tyres' brandished steel;
Rolled headlong from the rapid car
He tumbles, and the field of war
⁠Spurns with his dying heel.
E'en as a swain 'mid forest trees,
When summer yields the wished-for breeze,
⁠His scattered torches sends;