At once the cornel rattled in the skies;
At once tumultuous shouts and clamours rise.
Nine brothers in a goodly band there stood,
Born of Arcadian mixed with Tuscan blood,
Gylippus' sons; the fatal javelin flew,
Aimed at the midmost of the friendly crew.
}
{ A passage through the jointed arms it found,
{ Just where the belt was to the body bound,
{ And struck the gentle youth extended on the ground.