Where under high Cyllenè, crown’d with wood, The shaded tomb of old Æpytus stood; From Ripè, Stratie, Tegea’s bordering towns, The Phenean fields, and Orchomenian downs, Where the fat herds in plenteous pasture rove; And Stymphelus with her surrounding grove; Parrhasia, on her snowy cliffs reclined, And high Enispè shook by wintry wind, And fair Mantinea’s ever-pleasing site; In sixty sail the Arcadian bands unite. Bold Agapenor, glorious at their head, (Ancæus’ son) the mighty squadron led. Their ships, supplied by Agamemnon’s care, Through roaring seas the wondering warriors bear; The first to battle on the appointed plain, But new to all the dangers of the main.