Against Titias the strong he stood, and prevailed in the strife of the fists
Over him who amidst of our young men never his match had found
In stature and might: but Herakles dashed his teeth on the ground.
Beneath my father’s sceptre withal the Mysians he bowed,
And the Phrygians, for hard by our marches their fields our foemen ploughed.
And the tribes of Bithynians he smote, and won their land by his might,
Even to the outfall of Rheba, and unto Kolonê’s height.
And the Paphlagonians of Pelops yielded, nor faced that foe, {790}
Even all round whom Billaios’ darkling waters flow.
Then came the Bebrykians; and Amykus’ lawless tyranny,