Book XXIII

SO made they moan through the city, the while Achaia’s host
Back to the galleys streamed and the Hellespontine coast.
Then scattered their thousands, and each to his galley wended his way.
But Achilles suffered the Myrmidons not to break their array;
But his voice o’er the ranks of his battle-revelling comrades rolled:
“Swift-horsed Myrmidon men, my comrades staunch and bold,
Not yet from the chariot-yoke let our thunderfoot steeds be led,
But, warrior, horses, and car, let us all draw nigh to the dead,
And wail for Patroclus: the honour is this of the dead which have died.
But so soon as with sore lamentation our souls shall be satisfied,
Let us all unyoke, and prepare us the meat of the eventide.”
Then, of Achilles begun, did the wail from the multitude rise.
And around that body the fair-maned horses drave they thrice
Mourning, and Thetis thrilled them with longing for weeping and wail.
And wet were the sands at their feet, and wet was the warriors’ mail
With tears; so sorely they yearned for the panic-wafting chief.
And Peleides upraised the keen, and the vehement voice of grief,
The while on Patroclus’ breast his manslaying hands he laid:
“I hail thee, Patroclus, albeit in Hades’ halls of shade!
Whatso I promised to thee, in nothing thereof have I failed.
For the dogs’ red-ravening feast is Hector hitherward haled;
And twelve of the goodliest children of Troy, in mine hot desire
Of revenge for the slaying of thee, will I slaughter before thy pyre.”
He spake, and he thought foul shame that to Hector yet should be done.
On his face he hurled him in front of the bier of Menoitius’ son
In the dust. And his men disarrayed them of all their battle-weeds,
Brazen and glittering bright, and unyoked their high-neighing steeds.
By the galleys of Aiakus’ fleetfoot son in their thousands then
Sat they; and he spread an abundant funeral-feast for his men.
There many a goodly ox on the earth was stretched which they slew
With the red steel, many a sheep, and bleating goats not a few,
And many a white-tushed boar of the fat-sheathed swine huge-fed
Was spitted to singe o’er the flames which the Fire-god’s breath fanned red;
And all around the corse was the blood as from bowls outshed.
Then, leading the fleetfoot chieftain, the Peleus-begotten, went
The princes Achaian to godlike Agamemnon’s tent,
Scarce winning him thither, whose soul with wrath for his friend was aflame.
But when unto Agamemnon’s pavilion faring they came,
Then spake the King to the heralds of far-ringing voice, and he bade
Set a tripod huge on the fire, if now they might haply persuade
The scion of Peleus to cleanse from his body the dark-clotted gore.
But he steadfastly said them nay, and an oath thereto he swore:
“Nay, surely by Zeus, of the Gods most holy and most high,
It may nowise be that the baths unto this mine head draw nigh,
Ere I compass Patroclus with flame, and uppile him the earth for a tomb,
And shear mine hair, for never a second time shall there come
Such anguish as this on mine heart, while yet mid the living I fare.
But now consent we to taste of the banquet, how loathed soe’er;
And command thou, King of Men Agamemnon, with morning light
That they bring the wood for the pyre, and provide us whatso is right
That the dead should have who must pass to the Land of the Shadow of Night,
To the end that the tireless flame may kindle upon him, and burn
Our dead from our eyes, and the folk each man to his labour may turn.”
He spake, and with right good will they hearkened his word, and obeyed.
Full hastily then was the feast of the eventide arrayed;
And they portioned, and rightful share of the feast lacked no man’s soul.
So when they had quenched in their hearts the desire of the meat and the bowl,
Then passed they each to his tent, and they laid them down to sleep.
But Peleides lay on the shore of the thunderous-plunging deep,
Heavily groaning the while, mid the host of the Myrmidon folk,
Ina spot left clear of the ships, where the waves on the sea-beach broke.
When slumber laid hold on him, loosing the bands of his spirit’s care,
Shed sweetly around,—for that spent the glorious limbs of him were
In the hunting of Hector as swiftly by Ilium the windy they sped,—
Then came unto him the spirit of hapless Patroclus dead,
In all things like him: his stature, his beautiful eyes it had,
And his voice, and in unforgotten raiment the shape was clad.
And over his head it stood, and it moaned and murmured the word:
“Thou art sleeping, Achilles; thine heart with remembrance of me is un-stirred.
Not in my life, but my death, thou takest for me no care.
Bury me speedily: onward through Hades’ gates let me fare.
The spirits drive me afar, the phantoms of men outworn,
And they suffer me not to greet them beyond the River’s bourne;
But through Hades’ house wide-gated I wander still forlorn.
And give me thine hand, I beseech thee. For me is there no returning
From Hades, when once ye have rendered to me the dues of the burning.
Nevermore from our comrades aloof shall we sit, as of old we sate,
Taking counsel together; but me the jaws of a loathly fate
Have swallowed, the doom whereunto in the hour of my birth I was given.
And thy weird too, O Achilles like to the Dwellers in Heaven,
Is spoken, even to die ’neath the high-born Trojans’ wall.
This too, if thou haply wilt heed my request, will I tell thee withal:
Lay not my bones, O Achilles, to rest afar from thine own,
But together, as fostered we were in your halls in days bygone,
When from Opus Menoitius brought me, though naught but a child I was,
To sojourn within your home, for dark bloodguiltiness’ cause,
In the day whereon mine hand the son of Amphidamas slew,
Not of my will, but in childish wrath, as the dice we threw.
Then in his palace Peleus the car-lord welcomed me,
And fostered in kindly wise, and named me henchman to thee,
So would I that one urn also should hide our bones in the grave,
That golden urn twin-eared which the Lady thy mother gave.”
Then unto him fleet-footed Achilles answered and said:
“Wherefore to me art thou hitherward come, belovéd head,
And layest this charge upon me?—O yea, I will heed thy behest,
And perform it every whit, according to this thy request.
But draw thou nigher to me: let us but for a little space
With woeful lamenting be comforted, clasped in each other’s embrace.”
He spake, and he stretched out his arms; but naught in the grasp of him lay;
But the spirit beneath the earth, as a vapour that passeth away,
Was gone with a shriek: upsprang Achilles amazedly,
And he smote together his hands, and he cried with a bitter cry:
“O strange! then even in Hades’ homes—and I knew not this—
They have spirit and shape, albeit in these no life there is.
For all through the livelong night by my side hath the spirit stayed
Of Patroclus the hapless, and mourning and lamentation he made
With many a prayer; and wondrous like to the man was the shade.”
He spake, and in each man’s spirit a passion of mourning awoke.
And over them, still as they wailed, the dawn rose-fingered broke
As they stood by the piteous corse. But now Agamemnon the King
‘Gan speed the mules and the men the wood of the burning to bring.
From all the tents were they called, and were led by a hero bold,
The henchman Mériones of Idomeneus courteous-souled.
So they went, and the timber-cleaving axes in hand they bore,
And the ropes full deftly twined: and the mules fared on before;
And upward and downward and thwartward and slantward they tramped evermore.
But when on the spurs of Ida the fountain-flashing they stood,
Straightway the oaks high-crested with might and main they hewed
With the long-edged brass; and they fell with a crash far-echoing round.
And these the Achaians cleft, and the billets thereof they bound
On the backs of the mules; and their hurrying feet tore up the ground
As plainward straining they burst through the tangled brakes of the wold.
And the woodcutters all bare logs on their shoulders, for so were they told
Of the henchman Mériones of Idomeneus courteous-souled.
Then heaps upon heaps they cast all down on the shore, in the place
Where Achilles was minded Patroclus’ mound and his own to upraise.
But when they had strown that measureless wood upon every hand,
There sat they and waited in throngs: straightway did Achilles command
The battle-revelling men of the Myrmidon host of war
To gird them with harness of brass, and to yoke, each man to his car,
His steeds, and they hasted and clad them all in their battle-gear.
Then on the chariots mounted warrior and charioteer.
In front were the horses, behind did the cloud of the footmen pour,
Countless: amidst them his comrades the corpse of Patroclus bore.
And they heaped the dead with the locks from their heads that for mourning they shore
And cast: and behind was Achilles the godlike clasping the head
In grief; for now unto Hades his noble companion he sped.
So when they were come to the place appointed of Peleus’ child,
There set they the corse, and the stintless wood in a heap they piled.
Then a new thought came into fleetfoot godlike Achilles’ heart,
For his golden locks he shore as he stood by the pyre apart,
The hair whose wealth till then for Spercheius the river had grown;
And over the dark sea gazing with burdened heart did he moan:
“Spercheius, my father Peleus vowed unto thee in vain
That, when I should win to mine own dear fatherland again,
Unto thee would he shear mine hair, and would offer a hecatomb,
Yea, and with fifty rams for sacrifice would he come
To thy fountains, thine holy place, and thine altar’s incense-cloud.
So spake the ancient,—thou gavest not that for the which he vowed.
But now; since I shall not return to my fatherland-home, mine hair
Will I give to Patroclus the hero down unto Hades to bear.”
Then laid he the tresses between the hands of his friend dear-loved
And a passion of mourning awoke, for that all men’s hearts were moved.
And the light of the sun had gone down while yet they lamented and wept,
But Achilles spake; for to King Agamemnon’s side he stept:
“Atreides,—for chiefly the host of Achaia doth heed thy behest,—
Even of mourning at last the soul desireth rest:
Now then from the pyre disperse thou the people, and bid them prepare
Their meat: and to this will we look, unto whom the kinsmen’s care
Of the corse appertaineth: but stay thou the chieftains our labour to share.”
So when Agamemnon the King of Men heard this that he spoke,
Straightway to the shapely ships he bade disperse the folk.
But the kinsmen abode there yet, and the wood in order arrayed.
A hundred feet in length and in breadth that pyre they made.
On the topmost height of the pyre heart-stricken the corpse they laid;
And in front of the pyre full many a fatling sheep they flayed,
And dressed them, with trailfoot kine wreath-horned; and the fat of them all
Achilles took, and the corpse he covered therewith as a pall
From the head to the feet, and the carcases piled he on either hand;
And therebetween set vases of honey and ointment to stand
Leaning against the bier: and steeds high-crested four
He cast on the funeral pyre right hastily, groaning sore.
Nine hounds there were that fed at the feastful board of the king,
And of twain he severed the throats, and these on the pyre did he fling;
Yea, twelve fair children withal of the great-heart Trojan men,
Whom he slew with the brass; for his heart with a purpose grim burned then.
And the flame’s iron strength did he set thereto, to devour the same.
Then wailed he aloud, and he called on his dear companion’s name:
“All hail, Patroclus, albeit in Hades’ halls thou be!
For now do I bring to fulfilment whatso I promised to thee.
Twelve goodly sons of the great-heart Trojans the flames consume
With thee: but Hector the son of Priam nowise I doom
To the fire to devour; but the ravening dogs shall find him a tomb.”
So spake he his threat: but of Hector the dogs had not their will,
But from dogs did the Daughter of Zeus Aphrodité defend him still
By day and by night, and with oil ambrosial, rosy of scent,
She anointed him o’er, that his flesh might nowise in dragging be rent.
And Phoebus Apollo drew thereover a thick dark cloud
From the height of the heaven to the plain, and all that place did he shroud
Whereon the dead man lay, that the light of the sun, made dim
Till the end came, might not shrivel the flesh upon sinew and limb.
But the pyre of the dead Patroclus had not yet burst into flame.
Then a thought to the heart of fleetfoot Achilles the godlike came;
For aback from the pyre he drew, and he cried to the Winds in prayer,
Even twain, to the North-wind and West-wind, and promised them offerings fair,
And besought them, the while from a golden chalice the wine he shed,
To come, that with speed the fire might be kindled upon the dead,
And the wood might hasten to blaze: then Iris heard as he cried,
And swiftly away to the Winds with the tidings thereof she hied.
There, thronged in the West-wind’s palace, the hall of the Tempest-king,
The Winds at the banquet feasted; and Iris hastening
Stood on the threshold of stone: and so soon as their eyes espied,
All leapt to their feet, and each one beckoned her unto his side.
But the Goddess refused to sit, and she spake, even there as she stood:
“For me no seat; for aback must I fare unto Ocean’s flood,
To the Aethiops’ land, for now are they slaying the hecatombs there
To the Deathless: thither must I, the sacrifice-feast to share.
But Achilles is calling the North and the West winds’ roaring wings
To come to his help, and he promiseth goodly offerings,
To the end ye may hasten to kindle the funeral pyre whereon
Patroclus is laid, for whom the Achaians all make moan.”
So spake she, and hasted away; and with noise unearthly loud
Upsprang they, driving before them huddled cloud on cloud.
And they suddenly swooped on the sea, and they breathed, and the surges leapt
’Neath the wild-shrilling blast: o’er the fruitful land of Troy they swept;
And they fell on the pyre, and unearthly loud ’gan roar the fire.
All night were they rolling and hurling together the flames of the pyre,
Wild blowing and high: and fleetfoot Achilles the long night through,
With a double-chalice in hand, from a golden bowl ever drew
The wine, and he poured it on earth, that the ground was wet withal:
And ever upon the hapless Patroclus’ soul did he call.
And as mourneth a sire for his son, as he burneth the bones of the dead,
Whose dying hath anguished his hapless parents, a son new-wed,
Even so did Achilles mourn for his comrade, burning his bones,
Slow moving around the pyre, with heavy and vehement moans.
In the hour when the Morning-star goeth forth, Earth’s herald to be
Of light, ere spreadeth the saffron-mantled Dawn o’er the sea,
Then sank the blaze of the pyre, and the flame no longer burned,
And the Winds went back again, and unto their mansion returned
Over the Thracian Sea, and with maddening surges he sighed.
But Peleides turned from the place where the red glow darkened and died,
And he lay down wearied, and rushed on the hero slumber sweet.
And now did the gathering kings round the son of Atreus meet;
And the sound of the tramp of their coming the bands of his slumber brake;
And he raised himself, and he sat, and the word to the princes he spake:
“Atreides, and ye the chiefs of Achaia’s host of war,
First quench ye the fiery glow with the flame-flushed wine all o’er,
Unto whatsoever part the fury of flame hath won:
Then let us gather the bones of Patroclus Menoitius’ son.
From the rest shall ye sunder them well, full lightly shall these be discerned;
For they lay in. the midst of the pyre, but apart were the others burned
On the uttermost edges thereof confusedly, horses and men.
In a golden urn mid the folded fat let us lay them then,
Till the hour when I myself shall be hidden in Hades the dim.
But no mound passing great do I bid you to pile over him,
But such as is seemly: thereafter also that mightier one
Both broad and high the Achaians shall build, that, when I am gone,
Shall be left alive where the lines of the many-benched ships are arrayed.”
He spake, and the hest of Peleus’ fleetfoot son they obeyed.
First with the flame-flushed wine did they quench that glowing heap
Whereso the flame had won, and the crumbled ash lay deep.
And the white bones gathered they then of their comrade courteous-souled
With weeping, and laid them mid folded fat in an urn of gold.
In the tent did they set it, a pall of the linen spread they above.
Then traced they the barrow’s compass, and laid the foundations thereof
About the pyre, and the mounded earth heaped they to a hill.
So piled they the barrow, and backward they turned: but Achilles still
There stayed the folk, and he bade sit down in a mighty ring;
And prizes, caldrons and tripods, forth of the ships did he bring;
And horses and mules and oxen of stately heads he brought,
And women lovely-girded, and hoary steel unwrought.
First did he set for the swift car-steeds a glorious prize,
A woman to lead away, in peerless loomwork wise,
And a twin-eared tripod; measures twenty and two it held:
Even these for the first: for the second a mare by the yoke unquelled
Of six years old, in foal with a mule undropt as yet.
For the third a beautiful caldron unsullied of flame hath he set
Yet bright from the craftsman’s hands, and measures four did it hold.
For the fourth of the chariots he set in the midst two talents of gold;
For the fifth an urn twin-eared, unstained of the flame-born smoke.
And he rose full height, and amidst of the Argive men he spoke:
“Atreides, and all ye men of Achaia greave-bedight,
The prizes that wait for the charioteers lie here in your sight.
If the chieftains but strove at another’s funeral-feast this day,
Myself should the first prize win, and bear to my tent away;
For ye know how far mine horses in swiftness excel and in fire,
For immortal they are, and Poseidon gave them unto my sire,
Unto Peleus, and he on his son bestowed that gift of heaven.
But for me and my thunderfoot steeds this contest abideth unstriven:
They have lost the glory and grace of so noble a chariot-lord,
So gentle, who oftentimes the oil clear-flowing hath poured
On the manes that his hands had cleansed with the fountain’s crystal flow.
For him be they standing and grieving, and earthward drooping low
Are their manes, the while they stand with hearts deep-stricken with woe.
But make you ready the rest, whosoe’er the Achaians among
Putteth his trust in his steeds and his chariot fashioned strong.”
So spake Peleides, and rose the chiefs, swift lords of the car.
’Twas Eumélus, a king of men, that arose up first by far,
The beloved child of Admétus, the car-renownéd one:
And after him rose Diomedes the stalwart, Tydeus’ son;
And the horses of Tros to his chariot he yoked, which he won in the strife
From Aeneas, howbeit Apollo saved that hero’s life.
Next him rose golden-haired Menelaus, Atreus’ seed,
The Zeus-begotten, and horses swift to the yoke did he lead,
Podargus his own, and Aithé the mare of his brother the King:
That mare unto him did Anchises’ child Echepélus bring
That he might not follow his spear unto Ilium the windy-towered,
But abide mid the bliss of his home, since Zeus upon him had showered
Great substance, and Sikyon’s wide-meadowed land was his dwelling-place:
Even her did he lead ’neath the yoke fierce-straining, afire for the race.
And his fair-maned steeds to the chariot the fourth did Antilochus bring,
The glorious child of Nestor, the noble-hearted king
Of Neleus begotten, and fleetfoot horses, a Pylian brood,
Must speed his chariot on: now nigh him his father stood,
And, wise though his son was aforetime, he spake good rede in his ear:
“Antilochus, young though thou art, thou wast held exceeding dear
Of Zeus and Apollo, and manifold chariot-lore hast thou
Which they taught to thee: little it needeth that I should lesson thee now.
Full well canst thou double the turning-post; but thy steeds be slow
As matched with the rest, and this may be yet thy undoing, I trow.
Sooth, fleeter their car-steeds be, but the lords that speed them on
In wisdom and prudent counsel excel not thee, my son.
Come then, lay up in thine heart, my beloved, the lore of the wise,
And their manifold wisdom, lest haply thine hands let slip the prize.
By wisdom the woodman accomplisheth more than by bodily might,
And by wisdom the helmsman moreover his swift ship guideth aright
Amidst of the wine-dark sea, when the wild winds buffet her sore;
And by wisdom driver with driver striving availeth more.
But whoso, putting his trust in naught save chariot and horse,
With wide sweep recklessly wheeleth at either end of the course,
His steeds in the race run wild, and he holdeth them not in hand:
But whoso hath worser steeds, but is wise to understand,
Ever marking the goal doth he wheel close round, and he giveth good heed
How far at the first with the ox-hide reins to force the steed:
Safely he holdeth him, watching the leaders with glance full keen.
Now a mark will I show, and it shall not escape thee, a sign clear-seen:
There riseth a dry stock up, some fathom’s height from the plain,
Of an oak-tree, or pine, and undecayed it is of the rain;
And beside it upreared upon either hand two stones gleam white
Where two ways meet, and the course lieth level to left and to right.
It is haply the cairn of a man that died long heretofore,
Or haply a turning-post of the men of the days of yore,
For a goal is it now appointed of godlike Achilles the fleet.
Thereby shalt thou guide close-skimming thy car and thine horses’ feet;
And thyself in the chariot goodly-knit to the leftward bow
Lightly away from thy team, and the rightward horse scourge thou
With shouting, and give loose reins with eager hands unto him.
And as for thy leftward steed, the very goal let him skim
In such wise that the goal by the nave of the chariot-wheel well-wrought
Shall seem to be grazed: but give good heed that thou touch it not,
Lest haply thou maim thine horses and wreck thy chariot:—glee
Should come thereof to the rest, but shame and reproach unto thee.
Now, O my beloved, be wise, and heedful of this my behest;
For if thou at the turning-post shalt pass in the race the rest,
There is none shall with swift rush overtake thee, nor pass thee by,
Not though in thy track with Areion the steed divine he should fly,
The fleetfoot pride of Adréstus, the charger of heaven-born strain,
Or Laomedon’s goodly steeds, which were bred on the Trojan plain.”
So Nestor spake, and again in his place the Néleid king
Sat down, having told to his son the sum of everything.
And Mériones hath harnessed his fair-maned car-steeds last.
So they stepped to the chariot floors, and the lots mid the helm they cast;
And Achilles shook, and the lot of Antilochus, Nestor’s son,
Leapt forth, and next him a place the lord Eumélus won.
And the third was Atreus’ seed, Menelaus the spear-renowned;
Next Mériones must drive, and Tydeus’ son hath found,
Albeit by far the best, the outermost place for his car.
Then stood they arow, and Achilles showed them the goal afar.
In the level plain, and he set thereby a watcher keen,
Phoinix the godlike,—his father’s henchman the ancient had been,—
Who should mark their running, and faithfully tell whatsoe’er he had seen.
Then all together above their steeds they uplifted on high
The scourge, and they smote with the lash, with sudden-storming cry
Cheering them on; and with wild speed over the plain they darted
Swiftly away from the ships, and beneath their breasts upstarted
The dust, and like to a cloud or a tempest in air it hung;
And the manes of them tossed and streamed on the blasts of the winds far-flung.
Now low were the chariots skimming the earth, the dispenser of good,
And in mid air bounded anon; and the chariot-drivers stood
High on their chariot-floors, and with yearning for victory
Throbbed each man’s heart, and from each man rang the challenge-cry
To his horses, and over the plain in a whirlwind of dust did they fly.
But now when the fleetfoot steeds o’er the last of the course ’gan speed
Back to the grey sea, then did the mettle of every steed
Show forth, and their uttermost swiftness was strained; and suddenly burst
Twain forth from the rest, and the mares of Pheres’ son were first.
But after them forth from the throng Diomedes’ stallions leapt,
The horses of Tros, nor afar, but exceeding nigh him they kept;
For ever they seemed as though they would mount the chariot-floor
Of Eumélus, and hot on his back did the breath of their nostrils pour,
And his shoulders broad, for their heads overhung him as onward they flew.
And now had he passed him, or doubtful had left it, for level he drew;
But to Tydeus’ son came Phoebus Apollo in wrathful spite,
And suddenly out of his hands the shining scourge did he smite.
Thereat the eyes of the hero with angry tears ran o’er,
For he marked how the mares sped on, yea, faster than theretofore,
And the speed of his own steeds slackened, for goadless ran they then.
But Apollo’s guile against Tydeus’ son hath escaped not the ken
Of Athéné, and after the shepherd of folk she sped forthright;
And she gave him the scourge, and she thrilled his horses with mettlesome might.
Then after Admétus’ son the Goddess rushed in her wrath,
And she snapped his chariot-yoke, and the horses aside from the path
Swerved as they ran, and earthward wrenched was the chariot-pole,
And hurled from the car to the earth by the wheel did Eumélus roll.
Flayed were the elbows and mouth and the nose of him dashed to the ground;
Bruised o’er the brows was his forehead, his eyes with tears were drowned,
And the breath from his body was beaten, that choked was his voice ere he cried.
But Tydeides turned from the wreck his thunderfoot horses aside,
Far leaping afront of the rest, for Athéné filled each steed
With mettlesome spirit, and crowned their lord with the glory-meed.
And next unto him Menelaus the golden-haired on pressed.
But Antilochus unto the steeds of his father shouted his hest:
“Press into the strife ye also! Strain ye your uttermost speed!
Good sooth, but in no wise I bid you contend with them that lead,
The horses of Tydeus’ war-wise son, whose every limb
Athéné with swiftness hath thrilled, setting glory’s crown upon him.
But the horses of Atreus’ child, overtake ye them, flying fast,
And be not of these outstripped, lest reproach on your heads be cast
Of Aithé, who is but a mare!—Brave steeds, why lag ye behind?
For this do I tell you, and surely my promise fulfilment shall find:
No loving care shall ye have of Nestor the shepherd of folk,
But with keen brass you shall he slay forthright with a vengeance-stroke,
If now of your heedlessness we shall win but the worser meed.
Nay, follow them hard, and hasten ye on at your uttermost speed.
And for this myself will contrive, and devise of my crafty thought
In the narrow way to pass them: my wit shall fail me not.”
So spake he, and terror-thrilled by the prince’s threatening cry
Faster they ran for a little space; and swiftly the eye
Of battle-bider Antilochus marked where the path grew strait.
A rift there was in the ground, where a pent-up winter spate
Had swept the earth from the track, and had hollowed the whole place deep.
Thither, lest wheels should jostle, his course did Atreides keep.
But Antilochus, sidewards turning his thunderfoot steeds in the race,
Aslant from the track, and a little swerving athwart, gave chase.
Then to Antilochus shouted Atreides in sudden fear:
“Antilochus, madly thou drivest! Hold thine horses here!
For strait is the way,—thou shalt pass full soon in the wider plain,—
Lest chariot with chariot haply thou jostle, and wreck us twain.”
So spake he, but onward Antilochus drave in haste more hot,
Speeding his steeds with the goad as one that heard him not.
And far as a discus hurled from the shoulder speedeth its flight,
Whirled by a lusty man making uttermost proof of his might
So far did they dash to the front: but Atreides’ steeds gave back,
For that now did himself of purpose the haste of his driving slack,
Lest haply the thunderfoot horses should clash in the midst of the way,
And should overturn the chariots goodly-knit, and they
Into the dust should be hurled in their lust for the victory.
But with him Menelaus the bright-haired chode, and loud cried he:
“Antilochus, no man on earth in malice o’erpasseth thee!
On to thy ruin!—They lie, the Achaians who deem thee wise!
Yet surely an oath shalt thou take even so ere thou win the prize.”
So spake he, and cried on his horses the prince of the golden hair:
“On!—slack not your running, nor stand ye still, how vexéd soe’er.
Sooner the feet and the knees of these shall be toil-fordone
Than yours, for by this from both the strength of their youth is gone.”
So spake he, and terror-thrilled by their prince’s threatening cry
Faster they ran, and now to the others drew swiftly anigh.
But watching the horses the while there sat that mighty crowd
Of the Argives, as over the plain they flew mid the wild dust-cloud.
And Idomeneus, chieftain of Crete, first marked as onward they drew,
For that highest he sat, and apart, in a place with a clear wide view.
Then heard he a shout from afar, and the voice of him that cried
He knew, and a horse clear-seen as he shot to the front he espied,
A horse that was otherwhere chesnut, but midst of his forehead gleamed
A white star forth, and round as the midnight moon it seemed.
And he rose to his feet, and amidst of the Argive men he spoke:
“O friends, ye chiefs of the Argives, lords of many folk,
Do I, I only, discern yon horses, or likewise ye?
Lo, other the foremost car-steeds are, as it seemeth to me,
And other appeareth their driver:—Eumélus’ steeds, I doubt,
Which were first in the outward course, shall have been in the plain thrown out:
For surely I marked them foremost around the goal-post sweeping,
But now may I nowhere espy them, albeit mine eyes are keeping
Keen watch, o’er the Trojan plain as they glance upon every side.
Or the reins have slipped from the grasp of their lord, nor availed he to guide
Their course round the goal-post aright, and in turning he cleared it not.
There was he hurled to the earth, and his chariot was shattered, I wot,
And the mares plunged wildly, when filled were their hearts with the rage of affright.
But arise ye also and look: it may be I discern not aright;
Yet seemeth to me yon hero afront of the chariot-throng
An Aetolian by birth, and a ruler the Argive nations among,
Scion of Tydeus the queller of steeds, Diomedes the strong.”
But with foul upbraiding did Aias Oileus’ swift son say:
“Idomeneus, why dost thou prate oversoon?—lo, far away
Are the high-stepping horses that over the plain wide-stretching dart.
Neither so much the youngest amidst of the Argives thou art,
Nor yet do thine eyes, as they stare from thine head, the keenliest see.
Tush, man!—thou wilt ever be prating with words: it beseemeth not thee
To be naught but a prating babbler; for here there be better than thou.
The selfsame horses that led heretofore be the foremost now,
The steeds of Eumélus, and still as he rideth their reins doth he hold.”
Then answered and spake the lord of the Cretans wrathful-souled:
“Thou prince in contention and evil counsel!—in all beside
Art thou least of the Argive men, O heart of discourteous pride!
Come now, a tripod or caldron for issue hereof let us stake,
And Atreus’ son Agamemnon our daysman herein let us make
Which horses be first: thou shalt buy understanding so with a price.”
He spake; straightway did Oileus’ swift son Aias rise
In fury, with bitter words to render him answer again.
And now had the storm of strife raged higher between these twain,
But Achilles’ self is uprisen to hold them aback, and he saith:
“Nay, answer each other no more with words of bitter breath,
And with foul speech, Aias, Idomeneus: not for your honour it is.
Yourselves would have indignation if any beside did this.
But sit ye still in the throng, and behold with your eyes and see
Yon steeds: in a moment themselves, as they strain for the victory,
Shall have hitherward come; thereafter shall none have doubt any more
Of the Argive steeds, who laggeth behind, who speedeth before.”
So spake he, and lo, the scion of Tydeus was drawn full nigh;
And aye as he drave was he scourging their shoulders, as, bounding high,
Swiftly his horses were flying along the course, and beat
Evermore on the charioteer the spurts of the dust from their feet;
And his chariot with gold bedight and with tin followed hard on the heels
Of the fleetfoot steeds: sooth, faint was the trace that the tires of the wheels
Were leaving behind them, the while twin furrows to rearward they drew
In the light-lying dust:—on, on, in fiery haste they flew,
Till he stood in the midst of the ring, the while from his car-steeds’ crests
Down dropped the abundant sweat, and streamed to the earth from their chests.
Down from his chariot glittering bright to the earth he hath sprung,
And the whip on the yoke hath he laid; nor loitering backward hung
Stout Sthenelus: swiftly he rose, and his hand on the prize he laid,
And he gave in charge to his haughty comrades the captive maid
And the twin-eared tripod: himself to the steeds’ unyoking gave heed.
Now driving his chariot cometh Antilochus, Nestor’s seed,
Who by cunning, and nowise by swiftness, had passed Menelaus by:
Yet even so Menelaus’ swift steeds pressed full nigh.
And far as a horse is afront of the wheel, whose swift feet strain
As he speedeth his lord high-borne on his chariot over the plain,
When the uttermost ends of the hairs of his tail light-wafted graze
The tire of the wheel, that it runneth full nigh, and scant is the space
That lieth between as he raceth over the plain wide-spread;
So close Menelaus behind the princely Antilochus sped:
Howbeit at first had he lagged by the length of a discus-cast,
But swiftly he closed on him now, for the mettlesome fire waxed fast
Of the mare of the king Agamemnon, Aithé of beautiful mane.
Yea, had but a little been left of the course to be run by the twain,
Menelaus had surely outstripped him, nor left the issue in doubt.
But Mériones the while, Idomeneus’ henchman stout,
Behind Menelaus the glorious lagged by the cast of a spear,
For that slowest of all were his fair-maned steeds, and their charioteer
Least of them all could skill to drive the car in the race.
But the son of Admétus followed them all in the hindmost place,
Dragging his fair-wrought chariot, and driving his steeds before.
And fleetfoot Achilles the godlike beheld it, and pitied him sore.
And he rose, and he uttered the swift-winged words mid the Argive host:
“Lo, driveth his fleetfoot horses the best man hindermost!
Go to, let us give him a guerdon, as seemly it is to be done,
Even the second: the first be the meed of Tydeus’ son.”
He spake, and they shouted yea to his hest, even all that heard:
And now had he given the steed,—for the people had praised that word;—
Howbeit Antilochus, child of Nestor the mighty-souled,
To plead with Peleides arose, and he spake out loud and bold:
“Achilles, if this thy word thou fulfil, sore wroth shall I be
With thee, for thou goest about to wrest my guerdon from me,
Bethinking thee thus, how that foiled his car and his swift steeds were,
And himself, good man though he be:—yet should he have cried in prayer
To the Deathless: then had he nowise been last in the race, I wis.
But and if thou hast pity of him, if dear to thy soul he is,
Good sooth, thou hast gold good store in thy tent, and brass hast thou,
And sheep, and handmaid-thralls, and thunderfoot horses enow.
Take of them, and give him hereafter even a goodlier meed,
Or now straightway, that the shout of the people may praise thy deed,
But the mare will I not yield up:—whosoever would wrest my right,
Let him make him ready with me in contention of hands to fight.”
So spake he, and fleetfoot Achilles the godlike smiled to hear,
Having joy in Antilochus, seeing he held that friend full dear.
And answer he made unto him, and the light-winged words he spake:
“Antilochus, if thou wilt have it, that somewhat-beside I take’
Of my store to bestow on Eumélus, yea, even this shall be done.
I will give him a breastplate, the which from Asteropaius I won,
Brazen, a casting thereon of the tin all glittering bright
Is overlaid: a gift of price shall it be in his sight.”
Then bade he his dearly-beloved friend Automedon bring
The corslet forth of the tent, and he hasted and bare to the king.
So he gave to Eumélus, and blithe he received that glorious thing.
But lo, in their midst Menelaus with heart sore vexed doth stand,
With Antilochus grievously wroth, and the herald gave to his hand
The sceptre, and silence withal he proclaimed to the Argive folk.
Thereafter amidst of the people the godlike hero spoke:
“Antilochus, once thou wert wise:—what sayest thou now of thy deeds?
Thou hast poured contempt on my prowess, and thwarted my chariot-steeds,
Thrusting before me thine own:—thou know’st they be worser far.
Come now, ye lords of the Argive men, and captains of war,
Judge ye betwixt us twain—yet accept not persons, I pray,
Lest one of the brazen-harnessed Achaians haply should say:
‘ By lies did the lord Menelaus Antilochus overbear,
And hath taken the mare away, yet worser his own steeds were,
Howbeit in prowess and strength himself was the mightier one.’
Nay, but myself will be judge: of the Danaan host there is none,
I ween, shall upbraid me herein, for that upright my judgment shall be.
Antilochus, fostered of Zeus, draw nigh, as behoveth thee:
Stand thou in front of thine horses and car, in thine hands hold thou
The lithe whip, even the same wherewithal thou wert driving but now.
By the Earth-shaker, Girder of Lands, swear, laying thine hand the while
On the steeds, that thou didst not foul my chariot by wilful guile.”
But to him Antilochus prudent of spirit made reply:
“Bear with me now: far younger, O King Menelaus, am I
Than thou, for in might and in majesty greater thou art, O King.
Thou knowest a young man’s wit, and whence his offences spring;
For hasty he is of his purpose, and light of his counsel is he,
Let therefore thine heart be patient: the mare, I will give her to thee,
The mare which I won: yea, though of the wealth in my tent thou shouldst claim
Some greater thing, I were fain straightway to give thee the same,
Rather than, O thou fostered of Zeus, to be cast evermore
Out of thine heart, and to stand a transgressor the Gods before.”
Then the scion of great-heart Nestor brought that mare with the word,
And gave her to Lord Menelaus’ hands, and his spirit was stirred
With gladness, as when the dew droppeth down on the ripening ears
Of corn, when the fields unto harvest bristle with golden spears:
Even so, Menelaus, refreshed was thy spirit within thy breast.
And he lifted his voice, and the light-winged words to the prince he addressed:
‘“Antilochus, now from mine anger against thee myself will refrain,
For thou hast not aforetime been wanton-wild, nor in spirit vain:
Howbeit thy youth this once hath gotten the better of thee.
Yet beware that hereafter thou take not thy betters by subtlety:
For scarce had another Achaian beside thee won me o’er.
But thou hast endured affliction and toil both great and sore,
Even thou and thy gallant sire, and thy brother withal, in my cause.
Therefore to this thy prayer will I bend: yea, mine though she was,
The mare will I give unto thee, that all these also may know
That ne’er high-minded am I, that mine heart unto wrath is slow.”
Then unto Antilochus’ comrade Noémon he gave the mare
To lead, but the caldron bright to his own pavilion they bare.
And the talents twain of gold bare Mériones away,
The fourth prize, even as he drave: but unclaimed the fifth prize lay,
The twin-eared urn: and this did Achilles to Nestor take;
Through the throng of the Argives he bare it, and came to his side, and spake:
“Lo there, be this thine, father, to lie mid thy treasure-store,
A memorial to be of Patroclus’ funeral-feast: never more
Mid the Argive men shalt thou see him: to thee this prize give I
Unwon: for with fists shalt thou win no fight; no fall shalt thou try,
Nor the javelin-cast shalt essay; nor thy feet may win thee renown;
For the weight of the years is upon thee, a sore load boweth thee down.”
So he laid that vase in his hands, and he took that gift, and rejoiced,
And he sped the winged word-flight, and spake unto him glad-voiced:
“Yea, fitly and well, my son, hast thou spoken everything.
No more are my limbs firm-knit, nor my feet, neither lightly swing
Mine arms from my shoulders on either side in the athlete-ring.
Ah for the strength that was mine, and the youth and the lustihead,
In the day the Epeians buried the lord Amarynkes dead
In Buprasion, and holden were funeral games for the king by his sons.
There none such as I, nor amidst the Epeian valiant ones,
Nor the Pylian men, nor Aetolians mighty-hearted, was found.
Klytomédes, Enops’ son, with the fist smote I to the ground.
Ankaios of Pleuron in wrestling I threw, when against me he stood;
And Iphiklus’ feet I outran, yet the man was a runner good.
Polydorus and Phyleus I overcame with the javelin-cast.
In the chariot-race alone of Aktor’s sons was I passed;
Two men against one did they thrust before me, for jealous they were,
Seeing the goodliest prize was like to be lost to them there.
Twins were they, and aye with the reins did the one the car-steeds guide;
Ever he swayed the reins, and the lash by his fellow was plied.
Yea, so was I once: but the younger men press forward now
Unto suchlike deeds; but for me, unto grievous eld must I bow.
But then, ah then mid the heroes was Nestor nowise the least.
Now pass thou on, and honour thy friend with the funeral-feast.
But for this, with joy I receive it, and gloweth mine heart in the thought
That ever thou bearest my friendship in mind: thou forgettest not
The honour wherewith it beseemeth that I mid the Argives be crowned.
And for this thy kindness to thee may the grace of the Gods abound.”
He spake; through the mighty Achaian throng did Peleides speed,
When now he had hearkened to all the praise of Néleus’ seed.
For the terrible strife of the fists the prizes forth did he bring:
A toil-strong mule did he lead, and he bound her amidst of the ring,
Unbroken, of six years old, which is hardest to tame to the yoke:
And a double-chalice cup for the man that should bow ’neath the stroke.
And he rose full-height, and the word in the midst of the Argives he spoke:
“O son of Atreus, and all ye Achaians greave-bedight,
For these do we call upon twain, even such as be chiefest in might,
To uplift their hands, and to smite with the fist; and to whomso of these
Apollo shall victory give, and ye be the witnesses,
Back to his tent returning the toil-strong mule let him lead,
And the double-chalice cup shall the vanquished take for his meed.”
He spake, and a man right stalwart and tall uprose thereupon,
Cunning in craft of the fist, Epeius Panopeus’ son;
And he laid on the toil-strong mule his hand, and thus did he say:
“Let the man draw nigh who shall bear the double-chalice away.
But the mule no man of all the Argives beside shall win,
With the fist overcoming me, for I vaunt me the best herein.
Sufficeth it not that the battle-cunning I lack?—who then
Hath perfect knowledge of all the crafts of the children of men?
For thus do I say, and the thing shall be surely accomplished so—
I will utterly bruise the flesh, I will shatter the bones of my foe.
Abiding here in a throng let his kinsmen ready stand,
Who shall bear him hence when he falleth to earth stricken down by mine hand.”
So spake he, and hushed were they all for a season, and answered him none:
And a godlike wight, Euryalus, rose against him alone,
The son of Talaon’s scion, even Mekistes the king,
Who of old, when fallen was Oedipus, came to his burying
Unto Thebes, and all the children of Kadmus he vanquished there.
Him did Tydeides the spear-renowned for the strife prepare,
And he spake to him words of cheer, and he longed for his victory sore.
First cast he a girdle about him, thereafter the gauntlets he bore
And gave to him, well-cut thongs of a lealand ox’s hide.
So when they had girded them, into the midst of the ring did they stride,
And uplifted their arms, and now with brawny hands they twain
Closed in the fight, and heavily fell the blows amain.
And a terrible clashing of teeth there was, and the sweat forth broke
All over their limbs, till godlike Epeius rose to the stroke
And smote, as he watched his time, on his cheek: short space he availed
To stand, for his goodly limbs beneath him fainted and failed.
And as when on a kelp-strewn beach ’neath a shiver of Boreas’ breath
Upleapeth a fish, then plungeth the darkling wave beneath,
So smitten he leapt: and Epeius the noble-souled from the ground
Upraised him, and set on his feet: then gathered his comrades around,
And the stricken with helpless-trailing feet through the concourse they led,
Forth-spitting the clotted blood, while sidewards drooped his head.
And they caused him to sit in their midst all dazed and with swimming eyes;
But themselves for the double-chalice went, and they bare him his prize.
Then in the Danaans’ sight set forth Peleides again
Guerdons—the third were these—for the wrestlers’ bitter strain:
For him that should conquer, a mighty tripod, bestrider of flame,
And at oxen two and ten the Achaians priced the same.
For the vanquished, a woman-thrall in manifold labours wise
Did he set in the midst, and at oxen four they valued her price.
And he rose full-height, and aloud to the Argive men did he call:
“Rise, ye which be fain to prove your prowess in this withal.”
So spake he, and up rose Aias the giant, Telamon’s son,
‘And Odysseus the perfect in wiliness, manifold-counselled one.
So they girded themselves, and forth in the midst of the ring did they stand;
And they clasped each other about with grip of the brawny hand.
As gable-rafters they seemed, which a craftsman renowned hath pight
On the roof of a high-built house, to break the wild winds’ might.
And the very backs of them creaked ’neath the strain of the giant grip
Stark-tugging, and down from their limbs like rain did the sweat of them drip;
And all along the shoulders and ribs of the heroes upstarted
Weal upon weal bright-crimson with blood, and eager-hearted
For the winning ever they strove of the tripod fashioned fair.
Neither Odysseus might trip his foe and earthward bear,
Neither Aias availed; but Odysseus’ stalwart strength held fast.
So when the Achaians greave-bedight ’gan chafe at the last,
Then to his foe Telamonian Aias the mighty cried:
“O Zeus’ and Laertes’ seed, Odysseus in wiles well-tried,
Thou lift me, or I lift thee, and the rest let Zeus decide.”
Then he heaved up his foe; yet forgat not his cunning the Craft-endowed,
But he struck him behind the knee, that the limbs of Aias bowed.
Down fell he backward, and fell on his breast Laertes’ son
Odysseus; and marvelled the folk with rapt gaze looking thereon.
Thereafter Odysseus the godlike, the toil-tried, essayed to lift
His foe, but prevailed not, and only a little from earth did he shift;
But he smote in his knee, and heavily down to the earth fell they
Locked side by side, and the dust defiled them there as they lay.
But they leapt to their feet, and the third time now had they wrestled again,
But Achilles himself arose, and he spake to bid them refrain:
“Contend ye no more, neither suffer affliction of labour and pain.
The victory lieth with both: let each take equal prize;
And come ye, that other Achaians withal to the strife may arise.”
He spake, and with right good will they hearkened his rede, and obeyed;
And their bodies from dust-defilement they cleansed, and in tunics arrayed.
Then set Peleides forth a mazer of silver mould,
The prize for fleetness of foot: six measures the same would hold;
And for beauty there was not the like thereof in any land,
For that fashioned it was of Sidonian craftsmen cunning of hand,
And Phoenician shipmen bare it over the misty wave:
In the haven they set it, and unto Thoas the gift they gave.
And Eunéus Iéson’s son to Patroclus the hero brought
That bowl, and the child of Priam Lykaon from thraldom it bought.
Even this at the burial-feast of his friend did Achilles ordain
For the man who by swiftness of feet in the race that guerdon should gain.
And a stately ox huge-fed did he set for the second therein,
And half a talent of gold should the last of the runners win.
And he rose full-height, and aloud to the Argive men did he call:
“Rise, ye which be fain to prove your prowess in this withal.”
He spake, and Oileus’ child, swift Aias, rose thereupon,
And Odysseus of manifold counsels, and up rose Nestor’s son
Antilochus: peerless he was in the race mid the younger men.
Ranged ready they stood; and Odysseus showed them the goal-post then.
Hard strained they away from the start, and suddenly darted ahead
Oileus’ son, but Odysseus the godlike behind him sped
Close on him, as when some fair-girt woman holdeth anigh
To her bosom the weaving-rod, which her fingers deftly ply
As she draweth along the warp the thread, ever bringing it close
To her bosom: so nigh was Odysseus running, and ere dust rose
From the footfall of Aias, fell in the print thereof his feet,
And the breath of Odysseus the godlike down on the head of him beat,
So swiftly ever he ran. Loud shouted Achaia’s array
Beholding him victory-fain, and his eager speed cheered they.
But when now they were running the last of the course, Odysseus cried
In prayer his heart within to Athéné the flashing-eyed:
“Hear, Goddess, come to my feet a helper good at need!”
So spake he in prayer, and Pallas Athéné heard him plead,
And her might was as wings in his arms, in his feet thrilled lightsome speed.
But when they were even at point to dart on the prize as they ran,
There Aias slipped in the race—’twas the Goddess foiled the man—
Even there where the filth of the loud-lowing steers o’er the earth was shed,
The beasts that Achilles had slain for the pyre of Patroclus dead.
And his nostrils and mouth with the foulness were filled, as he wallowed therein.
So the bowl did Odysseus the godlike, the toil-tried hero, win,
Forasmuch as he came in first: but Aias the ox must cheer.
Then laid he his hand on the horn of the meadow-roving steer,
Forth spewing the filth; and he spake to the people a rueful jeer:
“Out on it!—foiled were my feet of a Goddess, which heretofore
As a mother hath stood by Odysseus, and helpeth him evermore.”
So spake he, and all they laughed upon him in gleeful wise.
Now cometh Antilochus in the last, and he taketh his prize
Smiling, and spake mid the folk with laughter-litten eyes:
“Known to you all is the thing that I say, O friends, that still
The Immortals favour the elders, their hands with honour they fill.
For Aias is but a little elder-born than I,
But Odysseus of earlier birth, of the men of a day gone by:
Yet his is a green old age, men say: hard task shall it be
For any, save only Achilles, to strive with such as he.”
So spake he, and glory he gave unto fleetfoot Peleides thereby.
And with words of his mouth unto him Achilles made reply:
“Antilochus, not in vain shall thy praise be spoken: behold,
Unto that thy prize will I add yet half a talent of gold.”
Then laid he the gift in his hands, and he took it joyful-souled.
Thereafter a long-shadowed spear did the son of Peleus bring,
And a shield and a helmet withal, and he laid them amidst of the ring,
Sarpedon’s battle-gear, which Patroclus had torn from the dead.
And he stood in the midst, and the word to the Argive men he said:
“For these call we upon twain, our mightiest, forth to stand
Clad in their mail, and to grasp flesh-severing brass in hand,
And facing each other before this throng to prove their might.
And whichsoever of these the fair flesh first shall smite,
Shall touch through the fence of the armour the body, and draw dark blood,
This Thracian sword fair-gleaming with many a golden stud
Will I give him, the falchion I won from Asteropaius in fight:
And together the twain in possession shall share this harness bright;
And for them shall a goodly banquet within my pavilion be dight.”
Then stepped Telamonian Aias the giant forth of the throng;
And to meet him the scion of Tydeus rose, Diomedes the strong.
And a little aloof from the press they donned their war-array,
Then into the midst of the ring they strode, full fain of the fray,
With eyes grim-glaring, and wonder on all the Achaians came,
And when man against man drew nigh to play that perilous game,
Thrice to the onset they leapt, and thrice clashed they in the charge.
Then Aias thrust with his lance at the shapely-rounded targe
Of Tydeides, but reached not his flesh, for his corslet shielded him.
But his foe Diomedes over his mighty buckler’s rim
Aye darted at Aias’ neck the point of his glittering spear;
Wherefore for Aias’ sake the Achaians were stricken with fear,
And they bade them to cease, and together to share the warrior-gear.
But the hero gave to Tydeides the mighty battle-brand;
With the scabbard he bare it to him, and the fair-cut baldric-brand.
Then rough from the smelting an iron bar did Peleides bring,
Which of old the mighty strength of Eétion wont to fling.
But him in the battle did fleetfoot Achilles the godlike slay,
And this with the rest of his wealth in his galleys he bare away.
And he rose full-height, and aloud to the Argive men did he call:
“Rise, ye which be fain to prove your prowess in this withal.
Though far from the city the victor’s goodly acres lie,
This shall suffice for his need while five full years roll by:
For not to the city his ploughman for lack of iron shall fare,
Neither his shepherd: hereof shall he have enough and to spare.”
Into the midst Polypoites the battle-bider strode,
And arose the brawny strength of Leonteus like to a God;
Rose Aias Telamon’s son and godlike Epeius with these.
Then stood they arow, and the bar did Epeius the godlike seize,
And he swung it and hurled: laughed all the Achaians for joy of his might.
Then did Leonteus scion of Arés speed its flight.
Thereafter the third great Aias, Telamon’s offspring, hurled
From his brawny hand: far over the marks of the rest was it whirled.
But when Polypoites the battle-bider laid hold on the bar—
Even as a herdman is wont to fling his staff afar,
That whirling in air it flieth amidst of the kine to fall,
So far did his cast overleap the throng, and shouted they all.
Then did the comrades of Polypoites the stalwart arise,
And they bare to the hollow galleys away the prince’s prize.
For the skill of the archers the hero appointed the dark iron then;
And he laid ten twybills down for the guerdon, and axes ten.
And the mast of a galley dusky-prowed he reared up high
Far off on the sands, and a trembling dove therefrom did he tie
By the foot with a slender cord, and he bade them speed the flight
Of the arrow thereat:—“And whoso the trembling dove shall smite,
Let him take the twybills, and bear to his tent in guerdon for this.
And whoso shall hit the cord, but the very mark shall miss,—
For I count him the worser marksman,—the axes ten shall be his.”
So spake he, and forth the might of Teucer the princely stood,
And Mériones, Idomeneus’ henchman, a warrior good.
And the lots they laid within a morion of brass, and they shook:
First leapt forth Teucer’s lot, and straightway an arrow he took,
And he shot with his might: yet he vowed not in prayer to the Archer-king
Of the firstling lambs a hecatomb-sacrifice to bring;
So the dove hath he missed, for Apollo begrudged it jealousy-stirred:
Yet hard by the foot hath he smitten the cord that tethered the bird.
And the bitter-keen shaft leapt onward cleaving clear through the string.
Then’ skyward darted the dove, but earthward fluttering
Loose hung the cord: yet shouted the folk for the deed he had wrought.
But hastily Mériones from the hand of Teucer hath caught
The bow; but the shaft had he ready, yea, even as Teucer aimed.
Forthright to Apollo the Smiter from Far he vowed, and named
For the sacrifice of the firstling lambs a hecatomb fair.
And beneath the clouds he beheld the dove high-soaring in air.
’Twixt wing and wing he smote, as she swept wide-wheeling around,
And the arrow passed clear through: swift-plunging again to the ground
In front of the foot of Mériones was it fixed: but now
Lighted the dove on the mast of the ship of the dusky prow.
Then drooped her neck; her wings thick-feathered loosely hung,
And the swift life fled from her limbs, and adown from the mast far flung
She fell; and the people the while in amazement gazed thereon.
So Mériones the twybills ten for his guerdon hath won;
And bearing the axes Teucer aback to the ships is gone.
Then laid Peleides amidst of the ring a long-shadowed spear,
And a caldron unsullied of flame, flower-starred, the worth of a steer.
Then rose the heroes up that were cunning the javelin to speed.
Rose Agamemnon the wide-dominioned, Atreus’ seed;
And rose Idomeneus’ valiant henchman Mériones.
Howbeit fleetfoot Achilles the godlike spake unto these:
“O Atreus’ son, well know we how far thou excellest the rest
In bodily might, and withal in the javelin-cast thou art best.
Thou then this guerdon to bear to the hollow galleys receive,
And the spear unto Mériones the hero now let us give,
If thou in thine heart peradventure consent: for thus I pray.”
He spake, and the King of Men Agamemnon said him not nay.
So the lance had Mériones: but the guerdon passing fair
The hero-king hath given Talthybius the herald to bear.