vy seiz'd the rest,
And sullen murmurs through the comrades ran:
Above the rest, were Thestius' sons,--their arms
Out-stretching, clamor'd thus with a mighty noise;--
"Let not thy beauteous form thy mind deceive,
"When from thy eyes the donor of the spoil,
"Besotted with thy love, shall far be mov'd.
"Woman! restore the prize, nor hope to hold
"Our intercepted claims."--Speaking they rob
Her of the gift, him of the right to give.
Nor passive stood the warlike youth, his teeth
He gnash'd with swelling rage, as fierce he cry'd;--
"Learn, ye base robbers of another's rights,
"What difference threats and valiant actions shew.--"
Then in Plexippus' unsuspecting breast
He plung'd his impious sword: nor suffer'd long
Toxeus to doubt, who hesitating stood,
Now vengeance brooding for his brother's fate,
Now dreading for himself a like swift blow;
Again he warms the weapon, reeking still
Hot from Plexippus' bosom, in his blood.

To every temple of the favoring gods
Althaea bore donations for her son,
Victorious: When the breathless bodies came
Of both her brethren, loud the sounding blows
Of grief were heard, and all the city rung
With lamentable cries: her golden robes
Were straight to sable chang'd. But when the hand
Which struck the blow was known, her every tear
Was dry'd, and vengeance only fill'd her soul.
A log there lay when Thestius' daughter groan'd
In child-bed pangs; which on the greedy flames
The triple sisters flung; and while their thumbs
Twirl'd round the fatal thread, this was their song;--
"O newly born! to thee and to this bough
"Like date of life we give."--Then ceas'd their words,
And from her presence vanish'd: sudden snatch'd
The mother from the fire the burning brand,
And quench'd it instant in unsparing streams.
Long in most secret darkness had she hid
This fatal wood; and, thus preserv'd, her son
Had safely years mature attain'd; but now
Forth she produc'd it from its close recess.
Fragments of torches on the hearth she heap'd,
And blew the sparklings into deadly flames;
And thrice she rais'd her hands the branch to heave
On the fierce fire; and thrice her hands withdrew.
Sister and mother in one bosom fought,
To adverse acts impelling. Oft her face,
Dread of her meditated crime, bleach'd pale;
Oft to her eyes her furious rage supply'd
A fiery redness; now her countenance glow'd
With