Great deeds of prowess lure the bard unwitting
To lengthen out his strain; yet brevity
Grace-clad the wise hear most acceptably.
In everything to grasp the season fitting
Crowneth the emprise. Thebe seven-gated
Knew it; nor Iolaus failed to tread
That path. He clave Eurystheus’ head all-hated
With the keen sword; but when himself lay dead,
Then Thebe buried him with honour, heaping
His grave-mound where Amphitryon lay sleeping,
Her chariot-chief—that tomb wherein did rest
His father’s father, he who was the guest
Of the Sown Men, lords of white steeds, who greeted
That hero well in Thebe stately-streeted.