So he spake, and these words the gods were not to make vain. For the elder pair laid down their harness from their shoulders on the ground, but Lynceus stepped into the midst, swaying his mighty spear beneath the outer rim of his shield, and even so did Castor sway his spear-points, and the plumes were nodding above the crests of each. With the sharp spears long they laboured and tilted at each other, if perchance they might anywhere spy a part of the flesh unarmed. But ere either was wounded the spear-points were broken, fast stuck in the linden shields. Then both drew their swords from the sheaths, and again devised each the other’s slaying, and there was no truce in the fight. Many a time did Castor smite on broad shield and horse-hair crest, and many a time the keen-sighted Lynceus smote upon his shield, and his blade just shore the scarlet plume. Then, as he aimed the sharp sword at the left knee, Castor drew back with his left foot, and hacked the fingers off the hand of Lynceus. Then he being smitten cast away his sword, and turned swiftly to flee to the tomb of his father, where mighty Idas lay, and watched this strife of kinsmen. But the son of Tyndarus sped after him, and drove the broad sword through bowels and navel, and instantly the bronze cleft all in twain, and Lynceus bowed, and on his face he lay fallen on the ground, and forthwith heavy sleep rushed down upon his eyelids. Nay, nor that other of her children did Laocoosa see, by the hearth of his fathers, after he had fulfilled a happy marriage. For lo, Messenian Idas did swiftly break away the standing stone from the tomb of his father Aphareus, and now he would have smitten the slayer of his brother, but Zeus defended him and drave the polished stone from the hands of Idas, and utterly consumed him with a flaming thunderbolt. Thus it is no light labour to war with the sons of Tyndarus, for a mighty pair are they, and mighty is he that begat them. Farewell, ye children of Leda, and all goodly renown send ye ever to our singing. Dear are all minstrels to the sons of Tyndarus, and to Helen, and to the other heroes that sacked Troy in aid of Menelaus. For you, O princes, the bard of Chios wrought renown, when he sang the city of Priam, and the ships of the Achaeans, and the Ilian war, and Achilles, a tower of battle. And to you, in my turn, the charms of the clear-voiced Muses, even all that they can give, and all that my house has in store, these do I bring. The fairest meed of the gods is song. IDYL XXIII THE VENGEANCE OF LOVE _A lover hangs himself at the gate of his obdurate darling who_, _in turn_, _is slain by a statue of Love_. _This poem is not attributed with much certainty to Theocritus_, _and is found in but a small proportion of manuscripts_. * * * * *