For long Hercules searches, until he comes to the fetid marsh of Stymphalus. On his approach, the birds screech in a raucous chorus, menacing and dissonant. Three of the birds, seeing Hercules, swoop down to attack him, but standing his ground, he wards them off with his heavy club. Standing before the marsh, wondering how he would rid the place of these birds of prey, he remembers the words of his Teacher: The flame that gleams beyond the mind reveals direction sure.

At twilight, when the marsh is dense with countless birds, Hercules strikes repeatedly on two large and brazen cymbals. Bewildered and disturbed by so monstrous a noise, the birds, with wings wildly flapping, never to return again.