"The highest honors (after Cimon's) were adjudged to a pair of Spartan brothers, Lysander and Maro, the sons of Aristomachus. Maro was victor in the foot race, but Lysander presented himself, amidst the shouts of the spectators, as the opponent of Milo! Milo the invincible, victor at Pisa, and in the Pythian and Isthmian combats. Milo was taller and stouter than the Spartan, who was formed like Apollo, and seemed from his great youth scarcely to have passed from under the hands of the schoolmaster. "In their naked beauty, glistening with the golden oil, the youth and the man stood opposite to one another, like a panther and a lion preparing for the combat. Before the onset, the young Lysander raised his hands imploringly to the gods, crying: 'For my father, my honor, and the glory of Sparta!' The Crotonian looked down on the youth with a smile of superiority; just as an epicure looks at the shell of the languste he is preparing to open. "And now the wrestling began. For some time neither could succeed in grasping the other. The Crotonian threw almost irresistible weight into his attempts to lay hold of his opponent, but the latter slipped through the iron grip like a snake. This struggle to gain a hold lasted long, and the immense multitude watched silently, breathless from excitement. Not a sound was to be heard but the groans of the wrestlers and the singing of the nightingales in the grove of the Altis. At last, the youth succeeded, by means of the cleverest trick I ever saw, in clasping his opponent firmly. For a long time, Milo exerted all his strength to shake him oft, but in vain, and the sand of the Stadium was freely moistened by the great drops of sweat, the result of this Herculean struggle. "More and more intense waxed the excitement of the spectators, deeper and deeper the silence, rarer the cries of encouragement, and louder the groans of the wrestlers. At last Lysander's strength gave way. Immediately a thousand voices burst forth to cheer him on. He roused himself and made one last superhuman effort to throw his adversary: but it was too late. Milo had perceived the momentary weakness. Taking advantage of it, he clasped the youth in a deadly embrace; a full black stream of blood welled from Lysander's beautiful lips, and he sank lifeless to the earth from the wearied arms of the giant. Democedes, the most celebrated physician of our day, whom you Samians will have known at the court of Polycrates, hastened to the spot, but no skill could now avail the happy Lysander,--he was dead. "Milo was obliged to forego the victor's wreath"; and the fame of this youth will long continue to sound through the whole of Greece. [By the laws of the games the wrestler, whose adversary died, had no right to the prize of victory.]