BOOK IV

How in the Funeral Games of Achilles heroes contended.

Nor did the hapless Trojans leave unwept

The warrior-king Hippolochus' hero-son,

But laid, in front of the Dardanian gate,

Upon the pyre that captain war-renowned.

But him Apollo's self caught swiftly up

Out of the blazing fire, and to the winds

Gave him, to bear away to Lycia-land;

And fast and far they bare him, 'neath the glens

Of high Telandrus, to a lovely glade;

And for a monument above his grave

Upheaved a granite rock. The Nymphs therefrom

Made gush the hallowed water of a stream

For ever flowing, which the tribes of men

Still call fair-fleeting Glaucus. This the gods

Wrought for an honour to the Lycian king.

But for Achilles still the Argives mourned

Beside the swift ships: heart-sick were they all

With dolorous pain and grief. Each yearned for him

As for a son; no eye in that wide host

Was tearless. But the Trojans with great joy

Exulted, seeing their sorrow from afar,

And the great fire that spake their foe consumed.

And thus a vaunting voice amidst them cried:

"Now hath Cronion from his heaven vouchsafed

A joy past hope unto our longing eyes,

To see Achilles fallen before Troy.

Now he is smitten down, the glorious hosts

Of Troy, I trow, shall win a breathing-space

From blood of death and from the murderous fray.

Ever his heart devised the Trojans' bane;

In his hands maddened aye the spear of doom

With gore besprent, and none of us that faced

Him in the fight beheld another dawn.

But now, I wot, Achaea's valorous sons

Shall flee unto their galleys shapely-prowed,

Since slain Achilles lies. Ah that the might

Of Hector still were here, that he might slay

The Argives one and all amidst their tents!"

So in unbridled joy a Trojan cried;

But one more wise and prudent answered him:

"Thou deemest that yon murderous Danaan host

Will straightway get them to the ships, to flee

Over the misty sea. Nay, still their lust

Is hot for fight: us will they nowise fear,

Still are there left strong battle-eager men,

As Aias, as Tydeides, Atreus' sons:

Though dead Achilles be, I still fear these.

Oh that Apollo Silverbow would end them!

Then in that day were given to our prayers

A breathing-space from war and ghastly death."

In heaven was dole among the Immortal Ones,

Even all that helped the stalwart Danaans' cause.

In clouds like mountains piled they veiled their heads

For grief of soul. But glad those others were

Who fain would speed Troy to a happy goal.

Then unto Cronos' Son great Hera spake:

"Zeus, Lightning-father, wherefore helpest thou

Troy, all forgetful of the fair-haired bride

Whom once to Peleus thou didst give to wife

Midst Pelion's glens? Thyself didst bring to pass

Those spousals of a Goddess: on that day

All we Immortals feasted there, and gave

Gifts passing-fair. All this dost thou forget,

And hast devised for Hellas heaviest woe."

So spake she; but Zeus answered not a word;

For pondering there he sat with burdened breast,

Thinking how soon the Argives should destroy

The city of Priam, thinking how himself

Would visit on the victors ruin dread

In war and on the great sea thunder-voiced.

Such thoughts were his, ere long to be fulfilled.

Now sank the sun to Ocean's fathomless flood:

O'er the dim land the infinite darkness stole,

Wherein men gain a little rest from toil.

Then by the ships, despite their sorrow, supped

The Argives, for ye cannot thrust aside

Hunger's importunate craving, when it comes

Upon the breast, but straightway heavy and faint

Lithe limbs become; nor is there remedy

Until one satisfy this clamorous guest

Therefore these ate the meat of eventide

In grief for Achilles' hard necessity

Constrained them all. And, when they had broken bread,

Sweet sleep came on them, loosening from their frames

Care's heavy chain, and quickening strength anew

But when the starry Bears had eastward turned

Their heads, expectant of the uprushing light

Of Helios, and when woke the Queen of Dawn,

Then rose from sleep the stalwart Argive men

Purposing for the Trojans death and doom.

Stirred were they like the roughly-ridging sea

Icarian, or as sudden-rippling corn

In harvest field, what time the rushing wings

Of the cloud-gathering West sweep over it;

So upon Hellespont's strand the folk were stirred.

And to those eager hearts cried Tydeus' son:

"If we be battle-biders, friends, indeed,

More fiercely fight we now the hated foe,

Lest they take heart because Achilles lives

No longer. Come, with armour, car, and steed

Let us beset them. Glory waits our toil?"

But battle-eager Aias answering spake

"Brave be thy words, and nowise idle talk,

Kindling the dauntless Argive men, whose hearts

Before were battle-eager, to the fight

Against the Trojan men, O Tydeus' son.

But we must needs abide amidst the ships

Till Goddess Thetis come forth of the sea;

For that her heart is purposed to set here

Fair athlete-prizes for the funeral-games.

This yesterday she told me, ere she plunged

Into sea-depths, yea, spake to me apart

From other Danaans; and, I trow, by this

Her haste hath brought her nigh. Yon Trojan men,

Though Peleus' son hath died, shall have small heart

For battle, while myself am yet alive,

And thou, and noble Atreus' son, the king."

So spake the mighty son of Telamon,

But knew not that a dark and bitter doom

For him should follow hard upon those games

By Fate's contrivance. Answered Tydeus' son

"O friend, if Thetis comes indeed this day

With goodly gifts for her son's funeral-games,

Then bide we by the ships, and keep we here

All others. Meet it is to do the will

Of the Immortals: yea, to Achilles too,

Though the Immortals willed it not, ourselves

Must render honour grateful to the dead."

So spake the battle-eager Tydeus' son.

And lo, the Bride of Peleus gliding came

Forth of the sea, like the still breath of dawn,

And suddenly was with the Argive throng

Where eager-faced they waited, some, that looked

Soon to contend in that great athlete-strife,

And some, to joy in seeing the mighty strive.

Amidst that gathering Thetis sable-stoled

Set down her prizes, and she summoned forth

Achaea's champions: at her best they came.

But first amidst them all rose Neleus' son,

Not as desiring in the strife of fists

To toil, nor strain of wrestling; for his arms

And all his sinews were with grievous eld

Outworn, but still his heart and brain were strong.

Of all the Achaeans none could match himself

Against him in the folkmote's war of words;

Yea, even Laertes' glorious son to him

Ever gave place when men for speech were met;

Nor he alone, but even the kingliest

Of Argives, Agamemnon, lord of spears.

Now in their midst he sang the gracious Queen

Of Nereids, sang how she in willsomeness

Of beauty was of all the Sea-maids chief.

Well-pleased she hearkened. Yet again he sang,

Singing of Peleus' Bridal of Delight,

Which all the blest Immortals brought to pass

By Pelion's crests; sang of the ambrosial feast

When the swift Hours brought in immortal hands

Meats not of earth, and heaped in golden maunds;

Sang how the silver tables were set forth

In haste by Themis blithely laughing; sang

How breathed Hephaestus purest flame of fire;

Sang how the Nymphs in golden chalices

Mingled ambrosia; sang the ravishing dance

Twined by the Graces' feet; sang of the chant

The Muses raised, and how its spell enthralled

All mountains, rivers, all the forest brood;

How raptured was the infinite firmament,

Cheiron's fair caverns, yea, the very Gods.

Such noble strain did Neleus' son pour out

Into the Argives' eager ears; and they

Hearkened with ravished souls. Then in their midst

He sang once more the imperishable deeds

Of princely Achilles. All the mighty throng

Acclaimed him with delight. From that beginning

With fitly chosen words did he extol

The glorious hero; how he voyaged and smote

Twelve cities; how he marched o'er leagues on leagues

Of land, and spoiled eleven; how he slew

Telephus and Eetion's might renowned

In Thebe; how his spear laid Cyenus low,

Poseidon's son, and godlike Polydorus,

Troilus the goodly, princely Asteropaeus;

And how he dyed with blood the river-streams

Of Xanthus, and with countless corpses choked

His murmuring flow, when from the limbs he tore

Lycaon's life beside the sounding river;

And how he smote down Hector; how he slew

Penthesileia, and the godlike son

Of splendour-throned Dawn;--all this he sang

To Argives which already knew the tale;

Sang of his giant mould, how no man's strength

In fight could stand against him, nor in games

Where strong men strive for mastery, where the swift

Contend with flying feet or hurrying wheels

Of chariots, nor in combat panoplied;

And how in goodlihead he far outshone

All Danaans, and how his bodily might

Was measureless in the stormy clash of war.

Last, he prayed Heaven that he might see a son

Like that great sire from sea-washed Scyros come.

That noble song acclaiming Argives praised;

Yea, silver-looted Thetis smiled, and gave

The singer fleetfoot horses, given of old

Beside Caicus' mouth by Telephus

To Achilles, when he healed the torturing wound

With that same spear wherewith himself had pierced

Telephus' thigh, and thrust the point clear through.

These Nestor Neleus' son to his comrades gave,

And, glorying in their godlike lord, they led

The steeds unto his ships. Then Thetis set

Amidst the athlete-ring ten kine, to be

Her prizes for the footrace, and by each

Ran a fair suckling calf. These the bold might

Of Peleus' tireless son had driven down

From slopes of Ida, prizes of his spear.

To strive for these rose up two victory-fain,

Teucer the first, the son of Telamon,

And Aias, of the Locrian archers chief.

These twain with swift hands girded them about

With loin-cloths, reverencing the Goddess-bride

Of Peleus, and the Sea-maids, who with her

Came to behold the Argives' athlete-sport.

And Atreus' son, lord of all Argive men,

Showed them the turning-goal of that swift course.

Then these the Queen of Rivalry spurred on,

As from the starting-line like falcons swift

They sped away. Long doubtful was the race:

Now, as the Argives gazed, would Aias' friends

Shout, now rang out the answering cheer from friends

Of Teucer. But when in their eager speed

Close on the end they were, then Teucer's feet

Were trammelled by unearthly powers: some god

Or demon dashed his foot against the stock

Of a deep-rooted tamarisk. Sorely wrenched

Was his left ankle: round the joint upswelled

The veins high-ridged. A great shout rang from all

That watched the contest. Aias darted past

Exultant: ran his Locrian folk to hail

Their lord, with sudden joy in all their souls.

Then to his ships they drave the kine, and cast

Fodder before them. Eager-helpful friends

Led Teucer halting thence. The leeches drew

Blood from his foot: then over it they laid

Soft-shredded linen ointment-smeared, and swathed

With smooth bands round, and charmed away the pain.

Then swiftly rose two mighty-hearted ones

Eager to match their strength in wrestling strain,

The son of Tydeus and the giant Aias.

Into the midst they strode, and marvelling gazed

The Argives on men shapen like to gods.

Then grappled they, like lions famine-stung

Fighting amidst the mountains o'er a stag,

Whose strength is even-balanced; no whit less

Is one than other in their deadly rage;

So these long time in might were even-matched,

Till Aias locked his strong hands round the son

Of Tydeus, straining hard to break his back;

But he, with wrestling-craft and strength combined,

Shifted his hip 'neath Telamon's son, and heaved

The giant up; with a side-twist wrenched free

From Aias' ankle-lock his thigh, and so

With one huge shoulder-heave to earth he threw

That mighty champion, and himself came down

Astride him: then a mighty shout went up.

But battle-stormer Aias, chafed in mind,

Sprang up, hot-eager to essay again

That grim encounter. From his terrible hands

He dashed the dust, and challenged furiously

With a great voice Tydeides: not a whit

That other quailed, but rushed to close with him.

Rolled up the dust in clouds from 'neath their feet:

Hurtling they met like battling mountain-bulls

That clash to prove their dauntless strength, and spurn

The dust, while with their roaring all the hills

Re-echo: in their desperate fury these

Dash their strong heads together, straining long

Against each other with their massive strength,

Hard-panting in the fierce rage of their strife,

While from their mouths drip foam-flakes to the ground;

So strained they twain with grapple of brawny hands.

'Neath that hard grip their backs and sinewy necks

Cracked, even as when in mountain-glades the trees

Dash storm-tormented boughs together. Oft

Tydeides clutched at Aias' brawny thighs,

But could not stir his steadfast-rooted feet.

Oft Aias hurled his whole weight on him, bowed

His shoulders backward, strove to press him down;

And to new grips their hands were shifting aye.

All round the gazing people shouted, some

Cheering on glorious Tydeus' son, and some

The might of Aias. Then the giant swung

The shoulders of his foe to right, to left;

Then gripped him 'neath the waist; with one fierce heave

And giant effort hurled him like a stone

To earth. The floor of Troyland rang again

As fell Tydeides: shouted all the folk.

Yet leapt he up all eager to contend

With giant Aias for the third last fall:

But Nestor rose and spake unto the twain:

"From grapple of wrestling, noble sons, forbear;

For all we know that ye be mightiest

Of Argives since the great Achilles died."

Then these from toil refrained, and from their brows

Wiped with their hands the plenteous-streaming sweat:

They kissed each other, and forgat their strife.

Then Thetis, queen of Goddesses, gave to them

Four handmaids; and those strong and aweless ones

Marvelled beholding them, for these surpassed

All captive-maids in beauty and household-skill,

Save only lovely-tressed Briseis. These

Achilles captive brought from Lesbos' Isle,

And in their service joyed. The first was made

Stewardess of the feast and lady of meats;

The second to the feasters poured the wine;

The third shed water on their hands thereafter;

The fourth bare all away, the banquet done.

These Tydeus' son and giant Aias shared,

And, parted two and two, unto their ships

Sent they those fair and serviceable ones.

Next, for the play of fists Idomeneus rose,

For cunning was he in all athlete-lore;

But none came forth to meet him, yielding all

To him, the elder-born, with reverent awe.

So in their midst gave Thetis unto him

A chariot and fleet steeds, which theretofore

Mighty Patroclus from the ranks of Troy

Drave, when he slew Sarpedon, seed of Zeus,

These to his henchmen gave Idomeneus

To drive unto the ships: himself remained

Still sitting in the glorious athlete-ring.

Then Phoenix to the stalwart Argives cried:

"Now to Idomeneus the Gods have given

A fair prize uncontested, free of toil

Of mighty arms and shoulders, honouring

The elder-born with bloodless victory.

But lo, ye younger men, another prize

Awaiteth the swift play of cunning hands.

Step forth then: gladden great Peleides' soul."

He spake, they heard; but each on other looked,

And, loth to essay the contest, all sat still,

Till Neleus' son rebuked those laggard souls:

"Friends, it were shame that men should shun the play

Of clenched hands, who in that noble sport

Have skill, wherein young men delight, which links

Glory to toil. Ah that my thews were strong

As when we held King Pelias' funeral-feast,

I and Acastus, kinsmen joining hands,

When I with godlike Polydeuces stood

In gauntlet-strife, in even-balanced fray,

And when Ancaeus in the wrestlers' ring

Mightier than all beside, yet feared and shrank

From me, and dared not strive with me that day,

For that ere then amidst the Epeian men--

No battle-blenchers they!--I had vanquished him,

For all his might, and dashed him to the dust

By dead Amaryncus' tomb, and thousands round

Sat marvelling at my prowess and my strength.

Therefore against me not a second time

Raised he his hands, strong wrestler though he were;

And so I won an uncontested prize.

But now old age is on me, and many griefs.

Therefore I bid you, whom it well beseems,

To win the prize; for glory crowns the youth

Who bears away the meed of athlete-strife."

Stirred by his gallant chiding, a brave man

Rose, son of haughty godlike Panopeus,

The man who framed the Horse, the bane of Troy,

Not long thereafter. None dared meet him now

In play of fists, albeit in deadly craft

Of war, when Ares rusheth through the field,

He was not cunning. But for strife of hands

The fair prize uncontested had been won

By stout Epeius--yea, he was at point

To bear it thence unto the Achaean ships;

But one strode forth to meet him, Theseus' son,

The spearman Acamas, the mighty of heart,

Bearing already on his swift hands girt

The hard hide-gauntlets, which Evenor's son

Agelaus on his prince's hands had drawn

With courage-kindling words. The comrades then

Of Panopeus' princely son for Epeius raised

A heartening cheer. He like a lion stood

Forth in the midst, his strong hands gauntleted

With bull's hide hard as horn. Loud rang the cheers

From side to side of that great throng, to fire

The courage of the mighty ones to clash

Hands in the gory play. Sooth, little spur

Needed they for their eagerness for fight.

But, ere they closed, they flashed out proving blows

To wot if still, as theretofore, their arms

Were limber and lithe, unclogged by toil of war;

Then faced each other, and upraised their hands

With ever-watching eyes, and short quick steps

A-tiptoe, and with ever-shifting feet,

Each still eluding other's crushing might.

Then with a rush they closed like thunder-clouds

Hurled on each other by the tempest-blast,

Flashing forth lightnings, while the welkin thrills

As clash the clouds and hollow roar the winds;

So 'neath the hard hide-gauntlets clashed their jaws.

Down streamed the blood, and from their brows the sweat

Blood-streaked made on the flushed cheeks crimson bars.

Fierce without pause they fought, and never flagged

Epeius, but threw all his stormy strength

Into his onrush. Yet did Theseus' son

Never lose heart, but baffled the straight blows

Of those strong hands, and by his fighting-craft

Flinging them right and left, leapt in, brought home

A blow to his eyebrow, cutting to the bone.

Even then with counter-stroke Epeius reached

Acamas' temple, and hurled him to the ground.

Swift he sprang up, and on his stalwart foe

Rushed, smote his head: as he rushed in again,

The other, slightly swerving, sent his left

Clean to his brow; his right, with all his might

Behind it, to his nose. Yet Acamas still

Warded and struck with all the manifold shifts

Of fighting-craft. But now the Achaeans all

Bade stop the fight, though eager still were both

To strive for coveted victory. Then came

Their henchmen, and the gory gauntlets loosed

In haste from those strong hands. Now drew they breath

From that great labour, as they bathed their brows

With sponges myriad-pored. Comrades and friends

With pleading words then drew them face to face,

And prayed, "In friendship straight forget your wrath."

So to their comrades' suasion hearkened they;

For wise men ever bear a placable mind.

They kissed each other, and their hearts forgat

That bitter strife. Then Thetis sable-stoled

Gave to their glad hands two great silver bowls

The which Euneus, Jason's warrior son

In sea-washed Lemnos to Achilles gave

To ransom strong Lycaon from his hands.

These had Hephaestus fashioned for his gift

To glorious Dionysus, when he brought

His bride divine to Olympus, Minos' child

Far-famous, whom in sea-washed Dia's isle

Theseus unwitting left. The Wine-god brimmed

With nectar these, and gave them to his son;

And Thoas at his death to Hypsipyle

With great possessions left them. She bequeathed

The bowls to her godlike son, who gave them up

Unto Achilles for Lycaon's life.

The one the son of lordly Theseus took,

And goodly Epeius sent to his ship with joy

The other. Then their bruises and their scars

Did Podaleirius tend with loving care.

First pressed he out black humours, then his hands

Deftly knit up the gashes: salves he laid

Thereover, given him by his sire of old,

Such as had virtue in one day to heal

The deadliest hurts, yea, seeming-cureless wounds.

Straight was the smart assuaged, and healed the scars

Upon their brows and 'neath their clustering hair

Then for the archery-test Oileus' son

Stood forth with Teucer, they which in the race

Erewhile contended. Far away from these

Agamemnon, lord of spears, set up a helm

Crested with plumes, and spake: "The master-shot

Is that which shears the hair-crest clean away."

Then straightway Aias shot his arrow first,

And smote the helm-ridge: sharply rang the brass.

Then Teucer second with most earnest heed

Shot: the swift shaft hath shorn the plume away.

Loud shouted all the people as they gazed,

And praised him without stint, for still his foot

Halted in pain, yet nowise marred his aim

When with his hands he sped the flying shaft.

Then Peleus' bride gave unto him the arms

Of godlike Troilus, the goodliest

Of all fair sons whom Hecuba had borne

In hallowed Troy; yet of his goodlihead

No joy she had; the prowess and the spear

Of fell Achilles reft his life from him.

As when a gardener with new-whetted scythe

Mows down, ere it may seed, a blade of corn

Or poppy, in a garden dewy-fresh

And blossom-flushed, which by a water-course

Crowdeth its blooms--mows it ere it may reach

Its goal of bringing offspring to the birth,

And with his scythe-sweep makes its life-work vain

And barren of all issue, nevermore

Now to be fostered by the dews of spring;

So did Peleides cut down Priam's son

The god-like beautiful, the beardless yet

And virgin of a bride, almost a child!

Yet the Destroyer Fate had lured him on

To war, upon the threshold of glad youth,

When youth is bold, and the heart feels no void.

Forthwith a bar of iron massy and long

From the swift-speeding hand did many essay

To hurl; but not an Argive could prevail

To cast that ponderous mass. Aias alone

Sped it from his strong hand, as in the time

Of harvest might a reaper fling from him

A dry oak-bough, when all the fields are parched.

And all men marvelled to behold how far

Flew from his hand the bronze which scarce two men

Hard-straining had uplifted from the ground.

Even this Antaeus' might was wont to hurl

Erstwhile, ere the strong hands of Hercules

O'ermastered him. This, with much spoil beside,

Hercules took, and kept it to make sport

For his invincible hand; but afterward

Gave it to valiant Peleus, who with him

Had smitten fair-towered Ilium's burg renowned;

And he to Achilles gave it, whose swift ships

Bare it to Troy, to put him aye in mind

Of his own father, as with eager will

He fought with stalwart Trojans, and to be

A worthy test wherewith to prove his strength.

Even this did Aias from his brawny hand

Fling far. So then the Nereid gave to him

The glorious arms from godlike Memnon stripped.

Marvelling the Argives gazed on them: they were

A giant's war-gear. Laughing a glad laugh

That man renowned received them: he alone

Could wear them on his brawny limbs; they seemed

As they had even been moulded to his frame.

The great bar thence he bore withal, to be

His joy when he was fain of athlete-toil.

Still sped the contests on; and many rose

Now for the leaping. Far beyond the marks

Of all the rest brave Agapenor sprang:

Loud shouted all for that victorious leap;

And Thetis gave him the fair battle-gear

Of mighty Cycnus, who had smitten first

Protesilaus, then had reft the life

From many more, till Peleus' son slew him

First of the chiefs of grief-enshrouded Troy.

Next, in the javelin-cast Euryalus

Hurled far beyond all rivals, while the folk

Shouted aloud: no archer, so they deemed,

Could speed a winged shaft farther than his cast;

Therefore the Aeacid hero's mother gave

To him a deep wide silver oil-flask, ta'en

By Achilles in possession, when his spear

Slew Mynes, and he spoiled Lyrnessus' wealth.

Then fiery-hearted Aias eagerly

Rose, challenging to strife of hands and feet

The mightiest hero there; but marvelling

They marked his mighty thews, and no man dared

Confront him. Chilling dread had palsied all

Their courage: from their hearts they feared him, lest

His hands invincible should all to-break

His adversary's face, and naught but pain

Be that man's meed. But at the last all men

Made signs to battle-bider Euryalus,

For well they knew him skilled in fighting-craft;

But he too feared that giant, and he cried:

"Friends, any other Achaean, whom ye will,

Blithe will I face; but mighty Alas--no!

Far doth he overmatch me. He will rend

Mine heart, if in the onset anger rise

Within him: from his hands invincible,

I trow, I should not win to the ships alive."

Loud laughed they all: but glowed with triumph-joy

The heart of Aias. Gleaming talents twain

Of silver he from Thetis' hands received,

His uncontested prize. His stately height

Called to her mind her dear son, and she sighed.

They which had skill in chariot-driving then

Rose at the contest's summons eagerly:

Menelaus first, Eurypylus bold in fight,

Eumelus, Thoas, godlike Polypoetes

Harnessed their steeds, and led them to the cars

All panting for the joy of victory.

Then rode they in a glittering chariot rank

Out to one place, to a stretch of sand, and stood

Ranged at the starting-line. The reins they grasped

In strong hands quickly, while the chariot-steeds

Shoulder to shoulder fretted, all afire

To take the lead at starting, pawed the sand,

Pricked ears, and o'er their frontlets flung the foam.

With sudden-stiffened sinews those ear-lords

Lashed with their whips the tempest-looted steeds;

Then swift as Harpies sprang they forth; they strained

Furiously at the harness, onward whirling

The chariots bounding ever from the earth.

Thou couldst not see a wheel-track, no, nor print

Of hoof upon the sand--they verily flew.

Up from the plain the dust-clouds to the sky

Soared, like the smoke of burning, or a mist

Rolled round the mountain-forelands by the might

Of the dark South-wind or the West, when wakes

A tempest, when the hill-sides stream with rain.

Burst to the front Eumelus' steeds: behind

Close pressed the team of godlike Thoas: shouts

Still answered shouts that cheered each chariot, while

Onward they swept across the wide-wayed plain.

((LACUNA))

"From hallowed Elis, when he had achieved

A mighty triumph, in that he outstripped

The swift ear of Oenomaus evil-souled,

The ruthless slayer of youths who sought to wed

His daughter Hippodameia passing-wise.

Yet even he, for all his chariot-lore,

Had no such fleetfoot steeds as Atreus' son--

Far slower!--the wind is in the feet of these."

So spake he, giving glory to the might

Of those good steeds, and to Atreides' self;

And filled with joy was Menelaus' soul.

Straightway his henchmen from the yoke-band loosed

The panting team, and all those chariot-lords,

Who in the race had striven, now unyoked

Their tempest-footed steeds. Podaleirius then

Hasted to spread salves over all the wounds

Of Thoas and Eurypylus, gashes scored

Upon their frames when from the cars they fell

But Menelaus with exceeding joy

Of victory glowed, when Thetis lovely-tressed

Gave him a golden cup, the chief possession

Once of Eetion the godlike; ere

Achilles spoiled the far-famed burg of Thebes.

Then horsemen riding upon horses came

Down to the course: they grasped in hand the whip

And bounding from the earth bestrode their steeds,

The while with foaming mouths the coursers champed

The bits, and pawed the ground, and fretted aye

To dash into the course. Forth from the line

Swiftly they darted, eager for the strife,

Wild as the blasts of roaring Boreas

Or shouting Notus, when with hurricane-swoop

He heaves the wide sea high, when in the east

Uprises the disastrous Altar-star

Bringing calamity to seafarers;

So swift they rushed, spurning with flying feet

The deep dust on the plain. The riders cried

Each to his steed, and ever plied the lash

And shook the reins about the clashing bits.

On strained the horses: from the people rose

A shouting like the roaring of a sea.

On, on across the level plain they flew;

And now the flashing-footed Argive steed

By Sthenelus bestridden, had won the race,

But from the course he swerved, and o'er the plain

Once and again rushed wide; nor Capaneus' son,

Good horseman though he were, could turn him back

By rein or whip, because that steed was strange

Still to the race-course; yet of lineage

Noble was he, for in his veins the blood

Of swift Arion ran, the foal begotten

By the loud-piping West-wind on a Harpy,

The fleetest of all earth-born steeds, whose feet

Could race against his father's swiftest blasts.

Him did the Blessed to Adrastus give:

And from him sprang the steed of Sthenelus,

Which Tydeus' son had given unto his friend

In hallowed Troyland. Filled with confidence

In those swift feet his rider led him forth

Unto the contest of the steeds that day,

Looking his horsemanship should surely win

Renown: yet victory gladdened not his heart

In that great struggle for Achilles' prizes;

Nay, swift albeit he was, the King of Men

By skill outraced him. Shouted all the folk,

"Glory to Agamemnon!" Yet they acclaimed

The steed of valiant Sthenelus and his lord,

For that the fiery flying of his feet

Still won him second place, albeit oft

Wide of the course he swerved. Then Thetis gave

To Atreus' son, while laughed his lips for joy,

God-sprung Polydorus' breastplate silver-wrought.

To Sthenelus Asteropaeus' massy helm,

Two lances, and a taslet strong, she gave.

Yea, and to all the riders who that day

Came at Achilles' funeral-feast to strive

She gave gifts. But the son of the old war-lord,

Laertes, inly grieved to be withheld

From contests of the strong, how fain soe'er,

By that sore wound which Alcon dealt to him

In the grim fight around dead Aeacas' son.