Yea, for that terrible monster-brood was nurtured, I trow,
Of Hêrê, the bride of Zeus, for a trial of Herakles.
Therewithal came the rest of their fellows, returning to battle with these
Or ever they won the mountain-crest. To the slaughter they fell
Of the Earth-born brood, those heroes: with arrows some did they quell, {1000}
And some on the points of their spears they received, until they had slain
All that to grapple of fight had rushed so furious-fain.
And even as when the woodmen with axes have smitten, and throw
The long beams down on the strand of the sea ranged row upon row,—
For the brine-sodden wood shall grip the strong bolts faster so,—