Hippolochus’s son, the far-renowned, Made answer thus: “O large-souled Diomed, Why ask my lineage? Like the race of leaves Is that of humankind. Upon the ground The winds strew one year’s leaves; the sprouting grove Puts forth another brood, that shoot and grow In the spring season. So it is with man: One generation grows while one decays. Yet since thou takest heed of things like these, And askest whence I sprang⁠—although to most My birth is not unknown⁠—there is a town Lapped in the pasture-grounds where graze the steeds Of Argos, Ephyra by name, and there Dwelt Sisyphus Aeolides, most shrewd Of men; his son was Glaucus, and the son Of Glaucus was the good Bellerophon, To whom the gods gave beauty and the grace Of winning manners. Proetus sought his death And banished him, for Proetus was the chief Among the Argives; Jupiter had made That people subject to his rule. The wife Of Proetus, nobly-born Anteia, sought With passionate desire his secret love, But failed to entice, with all her blandishments,