Aeneas slew the sons of Diodes— Orsilochus and Crethon, eminent Greeks. Their father dwelt in Pherae nobly built, Amid his riches. From Alpheius he Derived his race—a river whose long stream Flows through the meadows of the Pylian land. Orsilochus was to Alpheius born, Lord over many men, and he became The father of great Diocles, to whom Twin sons were born, well trained in all the arts Of warfare—Crethon and Orsilochus. These, in the prime of youth, with their black ships Followed the Argives to the coast of Troy Famed for its generous steeds. They left their home To vindicate the honor of the sons Of Atreus—Agamemnon, king of men, And Menelaus—but they found their death.
As two young lions, nourished by their dam Amid the thickets of some mighty wood, Seizing the beeves and fattened sheep, lay waste The stables, till at length themselves are slain By trenchant weapons in the shepherd’s hand, So by the weapons of Aeneas died These twain; they fell as lofty fir-trees fall. But now, when Menelaus saw their fate, The mighty warrior, deeply sorrowing, rushed Among the foremost, armed in glittering brass, And brandishing his spear; for Mars had roused His soul to fury, trusting he would meet Aeneas, and would perish by his hand. Antilochus, the generous Nestor’s son, Came also to the van,