Then Castor of the swift steeds, and swart Polydeuces, these twain went wandering alone, apart from their fellows, and marvelling at all the various wildwood on the mountain. Beneath a smooth cliff they found an ever-flowing spring filled with the purest water, and the pebbles below shone like crystal or silver from the deep. Tall fir trees grew thereby, and white poplars, and planes, and cypresses with their lofty tufts of leaves, and there bloomed all fragrant flowers that fill the meadows when early summer is waning—dear work-steads of the hairy bees. But there a monstrous man was sitting in the sun, terrible of aspect; the bruisers’ hard fists had crushed his ears, and his mighty breast and his broad back were domed with iron flesh, like some huge statue of hammered iron. The muscles on his brawny arms, close by the shoulder, stood out like rounded rocks, that the winter torrent has rolled, and worn smooth, in the great swirling stream, but about his back and neck was draped a lion’s skin, hung by the claws. Him first accosted the champion, Polydeuces.
Polydeuces. Good luck to thee, stranger, whosoe’er thou art! What men are they that possess this land?
Amycus. What sort of luck, when I see men that I never saw before?
Polydeuces. Fear not! Be sure that those thou look’st on are neither evil, nor the children of evil men.
Amycus. No fear have I, and it is not for thee to teach me that lesson.
Polydeuces. Art thou a savage, resenting all address, or some vainglorious man?
Amycus. I am that thou see’st, and on thy land, at least, I trespass not.
Polydeuces. Come, and with kindly gifts return homeward again!
Amycus. Gift me no gifts, none such have I ready for thee.
Polydeuces. Nay, wilt thou not even grant us leave to taste this spring?