Book 12
a bird with golden wings mount high in air.
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Before or since, I never saw the like.
“When Mopsus was aware of that bird's flight—
it circled round the camp on rustling wings—
with eyes and mind he followed it and shouted aloud:
‘Hail, glory of the Lapithaean race,
their greatest hero, now a bird unique!’
and we believed the verdict of the seer.
“Our grief increased resentment, and we bore
it with disgust that one was overwhelmed
by such a multitude. Then in revenge
we plied our swords, till half our foes were dead,
and only flight and darkness saved the rest.”
Nestor had hardly told this marvellous tale
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of bitter strife betwixt the Lapithae
and those half-human, vanquished Centaurs, when
Tlepolemus, incensed because no word
of praise was given to Hercules, replied
in this way; “Old sir, it is very strange,
you have neglected to say one good word
in praise of Hercules. My father told
me often, that he overcame in battle
those cloud born centaurs.”
replied, “Why force me to recall old wrongs,
to uncover sorrow buried by the years,
that made me hate your father? It is true
his deeds were wonderful beyond belief,
heaven knows, and filled the earth with well earned praise
which I should rather wish might be denied.
Deiphobus, the wise Polydamas, and even
great Hector get no praise from me.
Your father, I recall once overthrew
Messene's walls and with no cause destroyed
Elis and Pylos and with fire and sword
ruined my own loved home. I cannot name
all whom he killed. But there were twelve of us,
the sons of Neleus and all warrior youths,
and all those twelve but me alone he killed.
Ten of them met the common fate of war,
