as men tell of that old labyrinth[193] in lofty Crete, its way
cunningly woven with blind high walls, and the ambiguous
mystery of its thousand paths, winding till the pursuer’s 10
every trace was baffled by a maze without solution and
without return, not unlike are the courses in which these
sons of the Teucrians interlace their movements—a
gamesome tangle of flying and fighting, as it were dolphins
that swimming the watery seas dart through the Carpathian 15
and the Libyan, and sport along the billows. Such
was the form of exercise, and such the game that Ascanius,