Pressed in these arms his fate Antæus found,
Nor gained recruited vigour from the ground.
Did I not triple-formed Geryon fell?
Or, did I fear the triple dog of hell?
Did not these hands the bull's armed forehead hold?
Are not our mighty toils in Elis told?
Did not Stymphalian lakes proclaim my fame?
And fair Parthenian woods resound my name?
Who seized the golden belt of Thermodon?
And who the dragon-guarded apples won?