The Iliad Of Homer: Translated Into English Blank Verse: Book XXIII.

Argument Of The Twenty-Third Book.      The body of Patroclus is burned, and the funeral games ensue.      Such mourning was in Troy; meantime the Greeks      Their galleys and the shores of Hellespont      Regaining, each to his own ship retired.      But not the Myrmidons; Achilles them      Close rank'd in martial order still detain'd,      And thus his fellow-warriors brave address'd.      Ye swift-horsed Myrmidons, associates dear!      Release not from your chariots yet your steeds      Firm-hoof'd, but steeds and chariots driving near,      Bewail Patroclus, as the rites demand      Of burial; then, satiate with grief and tears,      We will release our steeds, and take repast.      He ended, and, himself leading the way,      His numerous band all mourn'd at once the dead.      Around the body thrice their glossy steeds,      Mourning they drove, while Thetis in their hearts      The thirst of sorrow kindled; they with tears      The sands bedew'd, with tears their radiant arms,      Such deep regret of one so brave they felt.      Then, placing on the bosom of his friend      His homicidal hands, Achilles thus      The shade of his Patroclus, sad, bespake.      Hail, oh Patroclus, even in Ades hail!      For I will now accomplish to the full      My promise pledged to thee, that I would give      Hector dragg'd hither to be torn by dogs      Piecemeal, and would before thy funeral pile      The necks dissever of twelve Trojan youths      Of noblest rank, resentful of thy death.      He said, and meditating foul disgrace      To noble Hector, stretch'd him prone in dust      Beside the bier of Menoetiades.      Then all the Myrmidons their radiant arms      Put off, and their shrill-neighing steeds released.      A numerous band beside the bark they sat      Of swift acides, who furnish'd forth      Himself a feast funereal for them all.      Many a white ox under the ruthless steel      Lay bleeding, many a sheep and blatant goat,      With many a saginated boar bright-tusk'd,      Amid fierce flames Vulcanian stretch'd to roast.      Copious the blood ran all around the dead.      And now the Kings of Greece conducted thence      To Agamemnon's tent the royal son      Of Peleus, loth to go, and won at last      With difficulty, such his anger was      And deep resentment of his slaughter'd friend.      Soon then as Agamemnon's tent they reach'd,      The sovereign bade his heralds kindle fire      Around an ample vase, with purpose kind      Moving Achilles from his limbs to cleanse      The stains of battle; but he firm refused      That suit, and bound refusal with an oath--      No; by the highest and the best of all,      By Jove I will not. Never may it be      That brazen bath approach this head of mine,      Till I shall first Patroclus' body give      To his last fires, till I shall pile his tomb,      And sheer my locks in honor of my friend;      For, like to this, no second wo shall e'er      My heart invade, while vital breath I draw.      But, all unwelcome as it is, repast      Now calls us. Agamemnon, King of men!      Give thou command that at the dawn they bring      Wood hither, such large portion as beseems      The dead, descending to the shades, to share,      That hungry flames consuming out of sight      His body soon, the host may war again.      He spake; they, hearing, readily obey'd.      Then, each his food preparing with dispatch,      They ate, nor wanted any of the guests      Due portion, and their appetites sufficed      To food and wine, all to their tents repair'd      Seeking repose; but on the sands beside      The billowy deep Achilles groaning lay      Amidst his Myrmidons, where space he found      With blood unstain'd beside the dashing wave.[1]      There, soon as sleep, deliverer of the mind,      Wrapp'd him around (for much his noble limbs      With chase of Hector round the battlements      Of wind-swept Ilium wearied were and spent)      The soul came to him of his hapless friend,      In bulk resembling, in expressive eyes      And voice Patroclus, and so clad as he.      Him, hovering o'er his head, the form address'd.      Sleep'st thou, Achilles! of thy friend become      Heedless? Him living thou didst not neglect      Whom thou neglectest dead. Give me a tomb      Instant, that I may pass the infernal gates.      For now, the shades and spirits of the dead      Drive me afar, denying me my wish      To mingle with them on the farthest shore,      And in wide-portal'd Ades sole I roam.      Give me thine hand, I pray thee, for the earth      I visit never more, once burnt with fire;      We never shall again close council hold      As we were wont, for me my fate severe,      Mine even from my birth, hath deep absorb'd.      And oh Achilles, semblance of the Gods!      Thou too predestined art beneath the wall      To perish of the high-born Trojan race.      But hear my last injunction! ah, my friend!      My bones sepulchre not from thine apart,      But as, together we were nourish'd both      Beneath thy roof (what time from Opois      Menoetius led me to thy father's house,      Although a child, yet fugitive for blood,      Which, in a quarrel at the dice, I spilt,      Killing my playmate by a casual blow,      The offspring of Amphidamas, when, like      A father, Peleus with all tenderness      Received and cherish'd me, and call'd me thine)      So, let one vase inclose, at last, our bones,      The golden vase, thy Goddess mother's gift.[2]      To whom Achilles, matchless in the race.      Ah, loved and honor'd! wherefore hast thou come!      Why thus enjoin'd me? I will all perform      With diligence that thou hast now desired.      But nearer stand, that we may mutual clasp      Each other, though but with a short embrace,      And sad satiety of grief enjoy.      He said, and stretch'd his arms toward the shade,      But him seized not; shrill-clamoring and light      As smoke, the spirit pass'd into the earth.      Amazed, upsprang Achilles, clash'd aloud      His palms together, and thus, sad, exclaim'd.      Ah then, ye Gods! there doubtless are below      The soul and semblance both, but empty forms;      For all night long, mourning, disconsolate,      The soul of my Patroclus, hapless friend!      Hath hover'd o'er me, giving me in charge      His last requests, just image of himself.      So saying, he call'd anew their sorrow forth,      And rosy-palm'd Aurora found them all      Mourning afresh the pitiable dead.      Then royal Agamemnon call'd abroad      Mules and mule-drivers from the tents in haste      To gather wood. Uprose a valiant man,      Friend of the virtuous Chief Idomeneus,      Meriones, who led them to the task.      They, bearing each in hand his sharpen'd axe      And twisted cord, thence journey'd forth, the mules      Driving before them; much uneven space      They measured, hill and dale, right onward now,      And now circuitous; but at the groves      Arrived at length, of Ida fountain-fed,      Their keen-edged axes to the towering oaks      Dispatchful they applied; down fell the trees      With crash sonorous. Splitting, next, the trunks,      They bound them on the mules; they, with firm hoofs      The hill-side stamping, through the thickets rush'd      Desirous of the plain. Each man his log      (For so the armor-bearer of the King      Of Crete, Meriones, had them enjoin'd)      Bore after them, and each his burthen cast      Down on the beach regular, where a tomb      Of ample size Achilles for his friend      Patroclus had, and for himself, design'd.      Much fuel thrown together, side by side      There down they sat, and his command at once      Achilles issued to his warriors bold,      That all should gird their armor, and the steeds      Join to their chariots; undelaying each      Complied, and in bright arms stood soon array'd.      Then mounted combatants and charioteers.      First, moved the chariots, next, the infantry      Proceeded numerous, amid whom his friends,      Bearing the body of Patroclus, went.      They poll'd their heads, and cover'd him with hair      Shower'd over all his body, while behind      Noble Achilles march'd, the hero's head      Sustaining sorrowful, for to the realms      Of Ades a distinguish'd friend he sent.      And now, arriving on the ground erewhile      Mark'd by Achilles, setting down the dead,      They heap'd the fuel quick, a lofty pile.[3]      But Peleus' son, on other thoughts intent,      Retiring from the funeral pile, shore off      His amber ringlets,[4] whose exuberant growth      Sacred to Sperchius he had kept unshorn,      And looking o'er the gloomy deep, he said.      Sperchius! in vain Peleus my father vow'd      That, hence returning to my native land,      These ringlets shorn I should present to thee[5]      With a whole hecatomb, and should, beside,      Rams offer fifty at thy fountain head      In thy own field, at thy own fragrant shrine.      So vow'd the hoary Chief, whose wishes thou      Leavest unperform'd. Since, therefore, never more      I see my native home, the hero these      Patroclus takes down with him to the shades.      He said, and filling with his hair the hand      Of his dead friend, the sorrows of his train      Waken'd afresh. And now the lamp of day      Westering[6] apace, had left them still in tears,      Had not Achilles suddenly address'd      King Agamemnon, standing at his side.      Atrides! (for Achaia's sons thy word      Will readiest execute) we may with grief      Satiate ourselves hereafter; but, the host      Dispersing from the pile, now give command      That they prepare repast; ourselves,[7] to whom      These labors in peculiar appertain      Will finish them; but bid the Chiefs abide.      Which when imperial Agamemnon heard,      He scatter'd instant to their several ships      The people; but the burial-dressers thence      Went not; they, still abiding, heap'd the pile.      A hundred feet of breadth from side to side      They gave to it, and on the summit placed      With sorrowing hearts the body of the dead.      Many a fat sheep, with many an ox full-horn'd      They flay'd before the pile, busy their task      Administering, and Peleus' son the fat      Taking from every victim, overspread      Complete the body with it of his friend[8]      Patroclus, and the flay'd beasts heap'd around.      Then, placing flagons on the pile, replete      With oil and honey, he inclined their mouths      Toward the bier, and slew and added next,      Deep-groaning and in haste, four martial steeds.      Nine dogs the hero at his table fed,      Of which beheading two, their carcases      He added also. Last, twelve gallant sons      Of noble Trojans slaying (for his heart      Teem'd with great vengeance) he applied the force      Of hungry flames that should devour the whole,      Then, mourning loud, by name his friend invoked.      Rejoice, Patroclus! even in the shades,      Behold my promise to thee all fulfill'd!      Twelve gallant sons of Trojans famed in arms,      Together with thyself, are all become      Food for these fires: but fire shall never feed      On Hector; him I destine to the dogs.      So threaten'd he; but him no dogs devour'd;      Them, day and night, Jove's daughter Venus chased      Afar, and smooth'd the hero o'er with oils      Of rosy scent ambrosial, lest his corse,      Behind Achilles' chariot dragg'd along      So rudely, should be torn; and Phoebus hung      A veil of sable clouds from heaven to earth,      O'ershadowing broad the space where Hector lay,      Lest parching suns intense should stiffen him.      But the pile kindled not. Then, Peleus' son      Seeking a place apart, two Winds in prayer      Boreas invoked and Zephyrus, to each      Vowing large sacrifice. With earnest suit      (Libation pouring from a golden cup)      Their coming he implored, that so the flames      Kindling, incontinent might burn the dead.      Iris, his supplications hearing, swift      Convey'd them to the Winds; they, in the hall      Banqueting of the heavy-blowing West      Sat frequent. Iris, sudden at the gate      Appear'd; they, at the sight upstarting all,      Invited each the Goddess to himself.      But she refused a seat and thus she spake.[9]      I sit not here. Borne over Ocean's stream      Again, to thiopia's land I go      Where hecatombs are offer'd to the Gods,      Which, with the rest, I also wish to share.      But Peleus' son, earnest, the aid implores      Of Boreas and of Zephyrus the loud,      Vowing large sacrifice if ye will fan      Briskly the pile on which Patroclus lies      By all Achaia's warriors deep deplored.      She said, and went. Then suddenly arose      The Winds, and, roaring, swept the clouds along.      First, on the sea they blew; big rose the waves      Beneath the blast. At fruitful Troy arrived      Vehement on the pile they fell, and dread      On all sides soon a crackling blaze ensued.      All night, together blowing shrill, they drove      The sheeted flames wide from the funeral pile,      And all night long, a goblet in his hand      From golden beakers fill'd, Achilles stood      With large libations soaking deep the soil,      And calling on the spirit of his friend.      As some fond father mourns, burning the bones      Of his own son, who, dying on the eve      Of his glad nuptials, hath his parents left      O'erwhelm'd with inconsolable distress,      So mourn'd Achilles, his companion's bones      Burning, and pacing to and fro the field      Beside the pile with many a sigh profound.      But when the star, day's harbinger, arose,      Soon after whom, in saffron vest attired      The morn her beams diffuses o'er the sea,      The pile, then wasted, ceased to flame, and then      Back flew the Winds over the Thracian deep      Rolling the flood before them as they pass'd.      And now Pelides lying down apart      From the funereal pile, slept, but not long,      Though weary; waken'd by the stir and din      Of Agamemnon's train. He sat erect,      And thus the leaders of the host address'd.      Atrides, and ye potentates who rule      The whole Achaian host! first quench the pile      Throughout with generous wine, where'er the fire      Hath seized it. We will then the bones collect      Of Menoetiades, which shall with ease      Be known, though many bones lie scatter'd near,      Since in the middle pile Patroclus lay,      But wide apart and on its verge we burn'd      The steeds and Trojans, a promiscuous heap.      Them so collected in a golden vase      We will dispose, lined with a double cawl,      Till I shall, also, to my home below.      I wish not now a tomb of amplest bounds,      But such as may suffice, which yet in height      The Grecians and in breadth shall much augment      Hereafter, who, survivors of my fate,      Shall still remain in the Achaian fleet.      So spake Pelides, and the Chiefs complied.      Where'er the pile had blazed, with generous wine      They quench'd it, and the hills of ashes sank.      Then, weeping, to a golden vase, with lard      Twice lined, they gave their gentle comrade's bones      Fire-bleach'd, and lodging safely in his tent      The relics, overspread them with a veil.      Designing, next, the compass of the tomb,      They mark'd its boundary with stones, then fill'd      The wide enclosure hastily with earth,      And, having heap'd it to its height, return'd.      But all the people, by Achilles still      Detain'd, there sitting, form'd a spacious ring,      And he the destined prizes from his fleet      Produced, capacious caldrons, tripods bright,      Steeds, mules, tall oxen, women at the breast      Close-cinctured, elegant, and unwrought[10] iron.      First, to the chariot-drivers he proposed      A noble prize; a beauteous maiden versed      In arts domestic, with a tripod ear'd,      Of twenty and two measures. These he made      The conqueror's meed. The second should a mare      Obtain, unbroken yet, six years her age,      Pregnant, and bearing in her womb a mule.      A caldron of four measures, never smirch'd      By smoke or flame, but fresh as from the forge      The third awaited; to the fourth he gave      Two golden talents, and, unsullied yet      By use, a twin-ear'd phial[11] to the fifth.      He stood erect, and to the Greeks he cried.      Atrides, and ye chiefs of all the host!      These prizes, in the circus placed, attend      The charioteers. Held we the present games      In honor of some other Grecian dead,      I would myself bear hence the foremost prize;      For ye are all witnesses well-inform'd      Of the superior virtue of my steeds.      They are immortal; Neptune on my sire      Peleus conferr'd them, and my sire on me.      But neither I this contest share myself,      Nor shall my steeds; for they would miss the force      And guidance of a charioteer so kind      As they have lost, who many a time hath cleansed      Their manes with water of the crystal brook,      And made them sleek, himself, with limpid oil.      Him, therefore, mourning, motionless they stand      With hair dishevell'd, streaming to the ground.      But ye, whoever of the host profess      Superior skill, and glory in your steeds      And well-built chariots, for the strife prepare!      So spake Pelides, and the charioteers,      For speed renown'd arose. Long ere the rest      Eumelus, King of men, Admetus' son      Arose, accomplish'd in equestrian arts.      Next, Tydeus' son, brave Diomede, arose;      He yoked the Trojan coursers by himself      In battle from neas won, what time      Apollo saved their master. Third, upstood      The son of Atreus with the golden locks,      Who to his chariot Agamemnon's mare      Swift the and his own Podargus join'd.      Her Echepolus from Anchises sprung      To Agamemnon gave; she was the price      At which he purchased leave to dwell at home      Excused attendance on the King at Troy;      For, by the gift of Jove, he had acquired      Great riches, and in wide-spread Sicyon dwelt.      Her wing'd with ardor, Menelaus yoked.      Antilochus, arising fourth, his steeds      Bright-maned prepared, son of the valiant King      Of Pylus, Nestor Neleades.      Of Pylian breed were they, and thus his sire,      With kind intent approaching to his side,      Advised him, of himself not uninform'd.[12]      Antilochus! Thou art, I know, beloved      By Jove and Neptune both, from whom, though young      Thou hast received knowledge of every art      Equestrian, and hast little need to learn.      Thou know'st already how to trim the goal      With nicest skill, yet wondrous slow of foot      Thy coursers are, whence evil may ensue.      But though their steeds be swifter, I account      Thee wise, at least, as they. Now is the time      For counsel, furnish now thy mind with all      Precaution, that the prize escape thee not.      The feller of huge trees by skill prevails      More than by strength; by skill the pilot guides      His flying bark rock'd by tempestuous winds,      And more by skill than speed the race is won.      But he who in his chariot and his steeds      Trusts only, wanders here and wanders there      Unsteady, while his coursers loosely rein'd      Roam wide the field; not so the charioteer      Of sound intelligence; he though he drive      Inferior steeds, looks ever to the goal      Which close he clips, not ignorant to check      His coursers at the first but with tight rein      Ruling his own, and watching those before.      Now mark; I will describe so plain the goal      That thou shalt know it surely. A dry stump      Extant above the ground an ell in height      Stands yonder; either oak it is, or pine      More likely, which the weather least impairs.      Two stones, both white, flank it on either hand.      The way is narrow there, but smooth the course      On both sides. It is either, as I think,      A monument of one long since deceased,      Or was, perchance, in ancient days design'd,      As now by Peleus' mighty son, a goal.      That mark in view, thy steeds and chariot push      Near to it as thou may'st; then, in thy seat      Inclining gently to the left, prick smart      Thy right-hand horse challenging him aloud,      And give him rein; but let thy left-hand horse      Bear on the goal so closely, that the nave      And felly[13] of thy wheel may seem to meet.      Yet fear to strike the stone, lest foul disgrace      Of broken chariot and of crippled steeds      Ensue, and thou become the public jest.      My boy beloved! use caution; for if once      Thou turn the goal at speed, no man thenceforth      Shall reach, or if he reach, shall pass thee by,      Although Arion in thy rear he drove      Adrastus' rapid horse of race divine,      Or those, Troy's boast, bred by Laomedon.      So Nestor spake, inculcating with care      On his son's mind these lessons in the art,      And to his place retiring, sat again.      Meriones his coursers glossy-maned      Made ready last. Then to his chariot-seat      Each mounted, and the lots were thrown; himself      Achilles shook them. First, forth leap'd the lot      Of Nestor's son Antilochus, after whom      The King Eumelus took his destined place.      The third was Menelaus spear-renown'd;      Meriones the fourth; and last of all,      Bravest of all, heroic Diomede      The son of Tydeus took his lot to drive.      So ranged they stood; Achilles show'd the goal      Far on the champain, nigh to which he placed      The godlike Phoenix servant of his sire,      To mark the race and make a true report.      All raised the lash at once, and with the reins      At once all smote their steeds, urging them on      Vociferous; they, sudden, left the fleet      Far, far behind them, scouring swift the plain.      Dark, like a stormy cloud, uprose the dust      Their chests beneath, and scatter'd in the wind      Their manes all floated; now the chariots swept      The low declivity unseen, and now      Emerging started into view; erect      The drivers stood; emulous, every heart      Beat double; each encouraged loud his steeds;      They, flying, fill'd with dust the darken'd air.      But when returning to the hoary deep      They ran their last career, then each display'd      Brightest his charioteership, and the race      Lay stretch'd, at once, into its utmost speed.      Then, soon the mares of Pheretiades[14]      Pass'd all, but Diomede behind him came,      Borne by his unemasculated steeds      Of Trojan pedigree; they not remote,      But close pursued him; and at every pace      Seem'd entering both; the chariot at their head,      For blowing warm into Eumelus' neck      Behind, and on his shoulders broad, they went,      And their chins rested on him as they flew.      Then had Tydides pass'd him, or had made      Decision dubious, but Apollo struck,      Resentful,[15] from his hand the glittering scourge.      Fast roll'd the tears indignant down his cheeks,      For he beheld the mares with double speed,      Flying, and of the spur deprived, his own      Retarded steeds continual thrown behind.      But not unnoticed by Minerva pass'd      The art by Phoebus practised to impede      The son of Tydeus, whom with winged haste      Following, she gave to him his scourge again,      And with new force his lagging steeds inspired.      Eumelus, next, the angry Goddess, swift      Pursuing, snapt his yoke; wide flew the mares      Asunder, and the pole fell to the ground.      Himself, roll'd from his seat, fast by the wheel      With lacerated elbows, nostrils, mouth,      And batter'd brows lay prone; sorrow his eyes      Deluged, and disappointment chok'd his voice.      Then, far outstripping all, Tydides push'd      His steeds beyond, which Pallas fill'd with power      That she might make the glorious prize his own.      Him follow'd Menelaus amber-hair'd,      The son of Atreus, and his father's steeds      Encouraging, thus spake Antilochus.      Away--now stretch ye forward to the goal.      I bid you not to an unequal strife      With those of Diomede, for Pallas them      Quickens that he may conquer, and the Chief      So far advanced makes competition vain.      But reach the son of Atreus, fly to reach      His steeds, incontinent; ah, be not shamed      For ever, foil'd by the, by a mare!      Why fall ye thus behind, my noblest steeds?      I tell you both, and ye shall prove me true,      No favor shall ye find at Nestor's hands,      My valiant sire, but he will thrust his spear      Right through you, should we lose, for sloth of yours,      Or by your negligence, the nobler prize.      Haste then--pursue him--reach the royal Chief--      And how to pass him in yon narrow way      Shall be my care, and not my care in vain.      He ended; they, awhile, awed by his voice,      With more exertion ran, and Nestor's son      Now saw the hollow strait mark'd by his sire.      It was a chasm abrupt, where winter-floods,      Wearing the soil, had gullied deep the way.      Thither Atrides, anxious to avoid      A clash of chariots drove, and thither drove      Also, but somewhat devious from his track,      Antilochus. Then Menelaus fear'd,      And with loud voice the son of Nestor hail'd.      Antilochus, at what a madman's rate      Drivest thou! stop--check thy steeds--the way is here      Too strait, but widening soon, will give thee scope      To pass me by; beware, lest chariot close      To chariot driven, thou maim thyself and me.      He said; but still more rapid and the scourge      Plying continual, as he had not heard,      Antilochus came on. Far as the quoit      By some broad-shoulder'd youth for trial hurl'd      Of manhood flies, so far Antilochus      Shot forward; but the coursers fell behind      Of Atreus' son, who now abated much      By choice his driving, lest the steeds of both      Jostling, should overturn with sudden shock      Both chariots, and themselves in dust be roll'd,      Through hot ambition of the foremost prize.      Him then the hero golden-hair'd reproved.      Antilochus! the man lives not on earth      Like thee for love of mischief. Go, extoll'd      For wisdom falsely by the sons of Greece.      Yet, trust me, not without an oath, the prize      Thus foully sought shall even now be thine.      He said, and to his coursers call'd aloud.      Ah be not tardy; stand not sorrow-check'd;      Their feet will fail them sooner far than yours,      For years have pass'd since they had youth to boast.      So he; and springing at his voice, his steeds      Regain'd apace the vantage lost. Meantime      The Grecians, in full circus seated, mark'd      The steeds; they flying, fill'd with dust the air.      Then, ere the rest, Idomeneus discern'd      The foremost pair; for, on a rising ground      Exalted, he without the circus sat,      And hearing, though remote, the driver's voice      Chiding his steeds, knew it, and knew beside      The leader horse distinguish'd by his hue,      Chestnut throughout, save that his forehead bore      A splendid blazon white, round as the moon.      He stood erect, and to the Greeks he cried.      Friends! Chiefs and senators of Argos' host!      Discern I sole the steeds, or also ye?      The horses, foremost now, to me appear      Other than erst, and I descry at hand      A different charioteer; the mares of late      Victorious, somewhere distant in the race      Are hurt; I plainly saw them at the first      Turning the goal, but see them now no more;      And yet with eyes inquisitive I range      From side to side the whole broad plain of Troy.      Either the charioteer hath slipp'd the reins,      Or rounded not successfully the goal      Through want of guidance. Thrown, as it should seem,      Forth from his seat, he hath his chariot maim'd,      And his ungovern'd steeds have roam'd away.      Arise and look ye forth yourselves, for I      With doubtful ken behold him; yet the man      Seems, in my view, tolian by descent,      A Chief of prime renown in Argos' host,      The hero Tydeus' son, brave Diomede,      But Ajax Oliades the swift      Him sharp reproved. Why art thou always given      To prate, Idomeneus? thou seest the mares,      Remote indeed, but posting to the goal.      Thou art not youngest of the Argives here      So much, nor from beneath thy brows look forth      Quick-sighted more than ours, thine eyes abroad.      Yet still thou pratest, although silence more      Should suit thee, among wiser far than thou.      The mares which led, lead still, and he who drives      Eumelus is, the same who drove before.      To whom the Cretan Chief, angry, replied.      Ajax! whom none in wrangling can excel      Or rudeness, though in all beside thou fall      Below the Argives, being boorish-rough,      Come now--a tripod let us wager each,      Or caldron, and let Agamemnon judge      Whose horses lead, that, losing, thou may'st learn.      He said; then sudden from his seat upsprang      Swift Ajax Oliades, prepared      For harsh retort, nor had the contest ceased      Between them, but had grown from ill to worse,      Had not himself, Achilles, interposed.      Ajax--Idomeneus--abstain ye both      From bitter speech offensive, and such terms      As ill become you. Ye would feel, yourselves,      Resentment, should another act as ye.      Survey the course, peaceable, from your seats;      The charioteers, by competition wing'd,      Will soon themselves arrive, then shall ye know      Distinctly, both who follows and who leads.      He scarce had said, when nigh at hand appear'd      Tydides, lashing, as he came, his steeds      Continual; they with hoofs uplifted high      Their yet remaining ground shorten'd apace,      Sprinkling with dusty drops at every stroke      Their charioteer, while close upon their heels      Radiant with tin and gold the chariot ran,      Scarce tracking light the dust, so swift they flew.      He stood in the mid-circus; there the sweat      Rain'd under them from neck and chest profuse,      And Diomede from his resplendent seat      Leaping, reclined his scourge against the yoke.      Nor was his friend brave Sthenelus remiss,      But, seizing with alacrity the prize,      Consign'd the tripod and the virgin, first,      To his own band in charge; then, loosed the steeds.      Next came, by stratagem, not speed advanced      To that distinction, Nestor's son, whom yet      The hero Menelaus close pursued      Near as the wheel runs to a courser's heels,      Drawing his master at full speed; his tail      With its extremest hairs the felly sweeps      That close attends him o'er the spacious plain,      So near had Menelaus now approach'd      Antilochus; for though at first he fell      A full quoit's cast behind, he soon retrieved      That loss, with such increasing speed the mare      Bright-maned of Agamemnon, the, ran;      She, had the course few paces more to both      Afforded, should have clearly shot beyond      Antilochus, nor dubious left the prize.      But noble Menelaus threw behind      Meriones, companion in the field,      Of King Idomeneus, a lance's flight,      For slowest were his steeds, and he, to rule      The chariot in the race, least skill'd of all.      Last came Eumelus drawing to the goal,      Himself, his splendid chariot, and his mares      Driving before him. Peleus' rapid son      Beheld him with compassion, and, amid      The Argives, in wing'd accents thus he spake.      Here comes the most expert, driving his steeds      Before him. Just it were that he received      The second prize; Tydides claims the first.      He said, and all applauded the award.      Then had Achilles to Eumelus given      The mare (for such the pleasure seem'd of all)      Had not the son of mighty Nestor risen,      Antilochus, who pleaded thus his right.      Achilles! acting as thou hast proposed,      Thou shalt offend me much, for thou shalt take      The prize from me, because the Gods, his steeds      And chariot-yoke disabling, render'd vain      His efforts, and no failure of his own.      It was his duty to have sought the Gods      In prayer, then had he not, following on foot      His coursers, hindmost of us all arrived.      But if thou pity him, and deem it good,      Thou hast much gold, much brass, and many sheep      In thy pavilion; thou hast maidens fair,      And coursers also. Of thy proper stores      Hereafter give to him a richer prize      Than this, or give it now, so shall the Greeks      Applaud thee; but this mare yield I to none;      Stand forth the Grecian who desires to win      That recompense, and let him fight with me.      He ended, and Achilles, godlike Chief,      Smiled on him, gratulating his success,      Whom much he loved; then, ardent, thus replied.      Antilochus! if thou wouldst wish me give      Eumelus of my own, even so I will.      I will present to him my corslet bright      Won from Asteropus, edged around      With glittering tin; a precious gift, and rare.      So saying, he bade Automedon his friend      Produce it from the tent; he at his word      Departing, to Achilles brought the spoil,      Which at his hands Eumelus glad received.      Then, stung with grief, and with resentment fired      Immeasurable, Menelaus rose      To charge Antilochus. His herald gave      The sceptre to his hand, and (silence bidden      To all) the godlike hero thus began.      Antilochus! oh heretofore discreet!      What hast thou done? Thou hast dishonor'd foul      My skill, and wrong'd my coursers, throwing thine,      Although inferior far, by fraud before them.      Ye Chiefs and Senators of Argos' host!      Impartial judge between us, lest, of these,      Some say hereafter, Menelaus bore      Antilochus by falsehood down, and led      The mare away, because, although his steeds      Were worse, his arm was mightier, and prevail'd.      Yet hold--myself will judge, and will to all      Contentment give, for I will judge aright.      Hither, Antilochus, illustrious youth!      And, as the law prescribes, standing before      Thy steeds and chariot, holding too the scourge      With which thou drovest, lay hand on both thy steeds,      And swear by Neptune, circler of the earth,      That neither wilfully, nor yet by fraud      Thou didst impede my chariot in its course.      Then prudent, thus Antilochus replied.      Oh royal Menelaus! patient bear      The fault of one thy junior far, in years      Alike unequal and in worth to thee.      Thou know'st how rash is youth, and how propense      To pass the bounds by decency prescribed,      Quick, but not wise. Lay, then, thy wrath aside;      The mare now given me I will myself      Deliver to thee, and if thou require      A larger recompense, will rather yield      A larger much than from thy favor fall      Deservedly for ever, mighty Prince!      And sin so heinously against the Gods.      So saying, the son of valiant Nestor led      The mare, himself, to Menelaus' hand,      Who with heart-freshening joy the prize received.      As on the ears of growing corn the dews      Fall grateful, while the spiry grain erect      Bristles the fields, so, Menelaus, felt      Thy inmost soul a soothing pleasure sweet!      Then answer thus the hero quick return'd.      Antilochus! exasperate though I were,      Now, such no longer, I relinquish glad      All strife with thee, for that at other times      Thou never inconsiderate wast or light,      Although by youthful heat misled to-day.      Yet safer is it not to over-reach      Superiors, for no other Grecian here      Had my extreme displeasure calm'd so soon;      But thou hast suffer'd much, and much hast toil'd,      As thy good father and thy brother have,      On my behalf; I, therefore, yield, subdued      By thy entreaties, and the mare, though mine,      Will also give thee, that these Grecians all      May know me neither proud nor hard to appease.      So saying, the mare he to Nomon gave,      Friend of Antilochus, and, well-content,      The polish'd caldron for his prize received.      The fourth awarded lot (for he had fourth      Arrived) Meriones asserted next,      The golden talents; but the phial still      Left unappropriated Achilles bore      Across the circus in his hand, a gift      To ancient Nestor, whom he thus bespake.      Thou also, oh my father! this accept,      Which in remembrance of the funeral rites      Of my Patroclus, keep, for him thou seest      Among the Greeks no more. Receive a prize,      Thine by gratuity; for thou shalt wield      The cestus, wrestle, at the spear contend,      Or in the foot-race (fallen as thou art      Into the wane of life) never again.      He said, and placed it in his hands. He, glad,      Receiving it, in accents wing'd replied.      True, oh my son! is all which thou hast spoken.      These limbs, these hands, young friend! (their vigor lost)      No longer, darted from the shoulder, spring      At once to battle. Ah that I could grow      Young yet again, could feel again such force      Athletic, as when in Buprasium erst      The Epeans with sepulchral pomp entomb'd      King Amarynceus, where his sons ordain'd      Funereal games in honor of their sire!      Epean none or even Pylian there      Could cope with me, or yet tolian bold.      Boxing, I vanquish'd Clytomedes, son      Of Enops; wrestling, the Pleuronian Chief      Ancus; in the foot-race Iphiclus,      Though a fleet runner; and I over-pitch'd      Phyleus and Polydorus at the spear.      The sons of Actor[16] in the chariot-race      Alone surpass'd me, being two for one,      And jealous both lest I should also win      That prize, for to the victor charioteer      They had assign'd the noblest prize of all.      They were twin-brothers, and one ruled the steeds,      The steeds one ruled,[17] the other lash'd them on.      Such once was I; but now, these sports I leave      To younger; me submission most befits      To withering age, who then outshone the best.      But go. The funeral of thy friend with games      Proceed to celebrate; I accept thy gift      With pleasure; and my heart is also glad      That thou art mindful evermore of one      Who loves thee, and such honor in the sight      Yield'st me of all the Greeks, as is my due.      May the Gods bless thee for it more and more!      He spake, and Peleus' son, when he had heard      At large his commendation from the lips      Of Nestor, through the assembled Greeks return'd.      He next proposed, not lightly to be won,      The boxer's prize. He tether'd down a mule,      Untamed and hard to tame, but strong to toil,      And in her prime of vigor, in the midst;      A goblet to the vanquish'd he assign'd,      Then stood erect and to the Greeks exclaim'd.      Atrid! and ye Argives brazen-greaved!      I call for two bold combatants expert      To wage fierce strife for these, with lifted fists      Smiting each other. He, who by the aid      Of Phoebus shall o'ertome, and whom the Greeks      Shall all pronounce victorious, leads the mule      Hence to his tent; the vanquish'd takes the cup.      He spake, and at his word a Greek arose      Big, bold, and skillful in the boxer's art,      Epes, son of Panopeus; his hand      He on the mule imposed, and thus he said.      Approach the man ambitious of the cup!      For no Achaian here shall with his fist      Me foiling, win the mule. I boast myself      To all superior. May it not suffice      That I to no pre-eminence pretend      In battle? To attain to foremost praise      Alike in every art is not for one.      But this I promise, and will well perform--      My blows shall lay him open, split him, crush      His bones to splinters, and let all his friends,      Attendant on him, wait to bear him hence,      Vanquish'd by my superior force in fight.      He ended, and his speech found no reply.      One godlike Chief alone, Euryalus,      Son of the King Mecisteus, who, himself,      Sprang from Talaion, opposite arose.      He, on the death of Oedipus, at Thebes      Contending in the games held at his tomb,      Had overcome the whole Cadmean race.      Him Diomede spear-famed for fight prepared,      Giving him all encouragement, for much      He wish'd him victory. First then he threw[18]      His cincture to him; next, he gave him thongs[19]      Cut from the hide of a wild buffalo.      Both girt around, into the midst they moved.      Then, lifting high their brawny arms, and fists      Mingling with fists, to furious fight they fell;      Dire was the crash of jaws, and the sweat stream'd      From every limb. Epes fierce advanced,      And while Euryalus with cautious eye      Watch'd his advantage, pash'd him on the cheek      He stood no longer, but, his shapely limbs,      Unequal to his weight, sinking, he fell.      As by the rising north-wind driven ashore      A huge fish flounces on the weedy beach,      Which soon the sable flood covers again,      So, beaten down, he bounded. But Epes,      Heroic chief, upraised him by his hand,      And his own comrades from the circus forth      Led him, step dragging after step, the blood      Ejecting grumous, and at every pace      Rolling his head languid from side to side.      They placed him all unconscious on his seat      In his own band, then fetch'd his prize, the cup.      Still other prizes, then, Achilles placed      In view of all, the sturdy wrestler's meed.      A large hearth-tripod, valued by the Greeks      At twice six beeves, should pay the victor's toil;      But for the vanquish'd, in the midst he set      A damsel in variety expert      Of arts domestic, valued at four beeves.      He rose erect, and to the Greeks he cried.      Arise ye, now, who shall this prize dispute.      So spake the son of Peleus; then arose      Huge Telamonian Ajax, and upstood      Ulysses also, in all wiles adept.      Both girt around, into the midst they moved.      With vigorous gripe each lock'd the other fast,      Like rafters, standing, of some mansion built      By a prime artist proof against all winds.      Their backs, tugg'd vehemently, creak'd,[20] the sweat      Trickled, and on their flanks and shoulders, red      The whelks arose; they bearing still in mind      The tripod, ceased not struggling for the prize.      Nor could Ulysses from his station move      And cast down Ajax, nor could Ajax him      Unsettle, fixt so firm Ulysses stood.      But when, long time expectant, all the Greeks      Grew weary, then, huge Ajax him bespake.      Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd!      Lift, or be lifted, and let Jove decide.      He said, and heaved Ulysses. Then, his wiles      Forgat not he, but on the ham behind      Chopp'd him; the limbs of Ajax at the stroke      Disabled sank; he fell supine, and bore      Ulysses close adhering to his chest      Down with him. Wonder riveted all eyes.      Then brave Ulysses from the ground awhile      Him lifted in his turn, but ere he stood,      Inserting his own knee the knees between[21]      Of Ajax, threw him. To the earth they fell      Both, and with dust defiled lay side by side.      And now, arising to a third essay,      They should have wrestled yet again, had not      Achilles, interfering, them restrain'd.      Strive not together more; cease to exhaust      Each other's force; ye both have earn'd the prize      Depart alike requited, and give place      To other Grecians who shall next contend.      He spake; they glad complied, and wiping off      The dust, put on their tunics. Then again      Achilles other prizes yet proposed,      The rapid runner's meed. First, he produced      A silver goblet of six measures; earth      Own'd not its like for elegance of form.      Skilful Sidonian artists had around      Embellish'd it,[22] and o'er the sable deep      Phoenician merchants into Lemnos' port      Had borne it, and the boon to Thoas[23] given;      But Jason's son, Eunes, in exchange      For Priam's son Lycaon, to the hand      Had pass'd it of Patroclus famed in arms.      Achilles this, in honor of his friend,      Set forth, the swiftest runner's recompense.      The second should a fatted ox receive      Of largest size, and he assign'd of gold      A just half-talent to the worst and last.      He stood erect, and to the Greeks he cried.      Now stand ye forth who shall this prize dispute.      He said, and at his word instant arose      Swift Ajax Oliades; upsprang      The shrewd Ulysses next, and after him      Brave Nestor's son Antilochus, with whom      None vied in speed of all the youths of Greece.      They stood prepared. Achilles show'd the goal.      At once all started. Oliades      Led swift the course, and closely at his heels      Ulysses ran. Near as some cinctured maid      Industrious holds the distaff to her breast,      While to and fro with practised finger neat      She tends the flax drawing it to a thread,      So near Ulysses follow'd him, and press'd      His footsteps, ere the dust fill'd them again,      Pouring his breath into his neck behind,      And never slackening pace. His ardent thirst      Of victory with universal shouts      All seconded, and, eager, bade him on.      And now the contest shortening to a close,      Ulysses his request silent and brief      To azure-eyed Minerva thus preferr'd.      Oh Goddess hear, prosper me in the race!      Such was his prayer, with which Minerva pleased,      Freshen'd his limbs, and made him light to run.      And now, when in one moment they should both      Have darted on the prize, then Ajax' foot      Sliding, he fell; for where the dung of beeves      Slain by Achilles for his friend, had spread      The soil, there[24] Pallas tripp'd him. Ordure foul      His mouth, and ordure foul his nostrils fill'd.      Then brave Ulysses, first arriving, seized      The cup, and Ajax took his prize, the ox.      He grasp'd his horn, and sputtering as he stood      The ordure forth, the Argives thus bespake.      Ah--Pallas tripp'd my footsteps; she attends      Ulysses ever with a mother's care.      Loud laugh'd the Grecians. Then, the remnant prize      Antilochus receiving, smiled and said.      Ye need not, fellow-warriors, to be taught      That now, as ever, the immortal Gods      Honor on seniority bestow.      Ajax is elder, yet not much, than I.      But Laertiades was born in times      Long past, a chief coval with our sires,      Not young, but vigorous; and of the Greeks,      Achilles may alone with him contend.      So saying, the merit of superior speed      To Peleus' son he gave, who thus replied.      Antilochus! thy praise of me shall prove      Nor vain nor unproductive to thyself,      For the half-talent doubled shall be thine.      He spake, and, doubling it, the talent placed      Whole in his hand. He glad the gift received.      Achilles, then Sarpedon's arms produced,      Stripp'd from him by Patroclus, his long spear,      Helmet and shield, which in the midst he placed.      He stood erect, and to the Greeks he cried.      I call for two brave warriors arm'd to prove      Each other's skill with weapons keen, this prize      Disputing, next, in presence of us all.      Who first shall through his armor reach the skin      Of his antagonist, and shall draw his blood,      To him this silver-studded falchion bright      I give; the blade is Thracian, and of late      Asteropus wore it, whom I slew.      These other arms shall be their common meed,      And I will banquet both within my tent.      He said, then Telamonian Ajax huge      Arose, and opposite the son arose      Of warlike Tydeus, Diomede the brave.      Apart from all the people each put on      His arms, then moved into the middle space,      Lowering terrific, and on fire to fight.      The host look'd on amazed. Approaching each      The other, thrice they sprang to the assault,      And thrice struck hand to hand. Ajax the shield      Pierced of his adversary, but the flesh      Attain'd not, baffled by his mail within.      Then Tydeus' son, sheer o'er the ample disk      Of Ajax, thrust a lance home to his neck,      And the Achaians for the life appall'd      Of Ajax, bade them, ceasing, share the prize.      But the huge falchion with its sheath and belt--      Achilles them on Diomede bestow'd.      The hero, next, an iron clod produced      Rough from the forge, and wont to task the might      Of King Etion; but, when him he slew,      Pelides, glorious chief, with other spoils      From Thebes convey'd it in his fleet to Troy.      He stood erect, and to the Greeks he cried.      Come forth who also shall this prize dispute!      How far soe'er remote the winner's fields,      This lump shall serve his wants five circling years;      His shepherd shall not, or his plower, need      In quest of iron seek the distant town,      But hence he shall himself their wants supply.[25]      Then Polypoetes brave in fight arose,      Arose Leonteus also, godlike chief,      With Ajax son of Telamon. Each took      His station, and Epes seized the clod.      He swung, he cast it, and the Grecians laugh'd.      Leonteus, branch of Mars, quoited it next.      Huge Telamonian Ajax with strong arm      Dismiss'd it third, and overpitch'd them both.      But when brave Polypoetes seized the mass      Far as the vigorous herdsman flings his staff      That twirling flies his numerous beeves between,[26]      So far his cast outmeasured all beside,      And the host shouted. Then the friends arose      Of Polypoetes valiant chief, and bore      His ponderous acquisition to the ships.      The archers' prize Achilles next proposed,      Ten double and ten single axes, form'd      Of steel convertible to arrow-points.      He fix'd, far distant on the sands, the mast      Of a brave bark cerulean-prow'd, to which      With small cord fasten'd by the foot he tied      A timorous dove, their mark at which to aim.      [27]Who strikes the dove, he conquers, and shall bear      These double axes all into his tent.      But who the cord alone, missing the bird,      Successful less, he wins the single blades.      The might of royal Teucer then arose,      And, fellow-warrior of the King of Crete,      Valiant Meriones. A brazen casque      Received the lots; they shook them, and the lot      Fell first to Teucer. He, at once, a shaft      Sent smartly forth, but vow'd not to the King[28]      A hecatomb, all firstlings of the flock.      He therefore (for Apollo greater praise      Denied him) miss'd the dove, but struck the cord      That tied her, at small distance from the knot,      And with his arrow sever'd it. Upsprang      The bird into the air, and to the ground      Depending fell the cord. Shouts rent the skies.      Then, all in haste, Meriones the bow      Caught from his hand holding a shaft the while      Already aim'd, and to Apollo vow'd      A hecatomb, all firstlings of the flock.      He eyed the dove aloft, under a cloud,      And, while she wheel'd around, struck her beneath      The pinion; through her and beyond her pass'd      The arrow, and, returning, pierced the soil      Fast by the foot of brave Meriones.      She, perching on the mast again, her head      Reclined, and hung her wide-unfolded wing,      But, soon expiring, dropp'd and fell remote.      Amazement seized the people. To his tent      Meriones the ten best axes bore,      And Teucer the inferior ten to his.[29] 90      Then, last, Achilles in the circus placed      A ponderous spear and caldron yet unfired,      Emboss'd with flowers around, its worth an ox.      Upstood the spear-expert; Atrides first,      Wide-ruling Agamemnon, King of men, 95      And next, brave fellow-warrior of the King      Of Crete, Meriones; when thus his speech      Achilles to the royal chief address'd.      Atrides! (for we know thy skill and force      Matchless! that none can hurl the spear as thou)      This prize is thine, order it to thy ship;      And if it please thee, as I would it might,      Let brave Meriones the spear receive.      He said; nor Agamemnon not complied,      But to Meriones the brazen spear      Presenting, to Talthybius gave in charge      The caldron, next, his own illustrious prize.