“Son, thou hast spoken rightly, for these limbs Are strong no longer; neither feet nor hands Move on each side with vigor as of yore. Would I were but as young, with strength as great, As when the Epeians in Buprasium laid King Amarynceus in the sepulchre, And funeral games were offered by his sons! Then of the Epeians there was none like me. Nor of the Pylian youths, nor yet among The brave Aetolians. In the boxing-match I took the prize from Clytomedes, son Of Enops, and in wrestling overcame Ancaeus the Pleuronian, who rose up Against me. In the foot-race I outstripped, Fleet as he was, Iphiclus, and beyond Phyleus and Polydore I threw the spear. Only the sons of Actor won the race Against me with their chariot, and they won Through force of numbers. Much they envied me, And feared lest I should bear away the prize; For largest in that contest of the steeds Was the reward, and they were two⁠—one held, Steadily held, the reins, the other swung The lash. Such was I once. Now feats like these