To strive for these rose up two victory-fain, Teucer the first, the son of Telamon, And Aias, of the Locrian archers chief. These twain with swift hands girded them about With loin-cloths, reverencing the Goddess-bride Of Peleus, and the Sea-maids, who with her Came to behold the Argives' athlete-sport. And Atreus' son, lord of all Argive men, Showed them the turning-goal of that swift course. Then these the Queen of Rivalry spurred on, As from the starting-line like falcons swift They sped away. Long doubtful was the race: Now, as the Argives gazed, would Aias' friends Shout, now rang out the answering cheer from friends Of Teucer. But when in their eager speed Close on the end they were, then Teucer's feet Were trammelled by unearthly powers: some god Or demon dashed his foot against the stock Of a deep-rooted tamarisk. Sorely wrenched Was his left ankle: round the joint upswelled The veins high-ridged. A great shout rang from all That watched the contest. Aias darted past Exultant: ran his Locrian folk to hail Their lord, with sudden joy in all their souls. Then to his ships they drave the kine, and cast Fodder before them. Eager-helpful friends Led Teucer halting thence. The leeches drew Blood from his foot: then over it they laid Soft-shredded linen ointment-smeared, and swathed With smooth bands round, and charmed away the pain. Then swiftly rose two mighty-hearted ones Eager to match their strength in wrestling strain, The son of Tydeus and the giant Aias. Into the midst they strode, and marvelling gazed The Argives on men shapen like to gods. Then grappled they, like lions famine-stung Fighting amidst the mountains o'er a stag, Whose strength is even-balanced; no whit less Is one than other in their deadly rage; So these long time in might were even-matched, Till Aias locked his strong hands round the son Of Tydeus, straining hard to break his back; But he, with wrestling-craft and strength combined, Shifted his hip 'neath Telamon's son, and heaved The giant up; with a side-twist wrenched free From Aias' ankle-lock his thigh, and so With one huge shoulder-heave to earth he threw That mighty champion, and himself came down Astride him: then a mighty shout went up. But battle-stormer Aias, chafed in mind, Sprang up, hot-eager to essay again That grim encounter. From his terrible hands He dashed the dust, and challenged furiously With a great voice Tydeides: not a whit That other quailed, but rushed to close with him. Rolled up the dust in clouds from 'neath their feet: Hurtling they met like battling mountain-bulls That clash to prove their dauntless strength, and spurn The dust, while with their roaring all the hills Re-echo: in their desperate fury these Dash their strong heads together, straining long Against each other with their massive strength, Hard-panting in the fierce rage of their strife,