Melaneus on the prince’s side was slain, And Dorylas, who own’d a fertile plain, Of Nasamonia’s fields the wealthy lord, Whose crowded barns could scarce contain their hoard: A whizzing spear obliquely gave a blow, Stuck in his groin, and pierced the nerves below: His foe beheld his eyes convulsive roll, His ebbing veins, and his departing soul, Then taunting said: “Of all thy spacious plains, This spot thy only property remains.” He left him thus; but had no sooner left, Than Perseus in revenge his nostrils cleft; From his friend’s breast the murdering dart he drew, And the same weapon at the murderer threw; His head in halves the darted javelin cut, And on each side the brain came issuing out.