Thus he. The coursers at their master's threat

With quicker steps the sounding champaign beat.

And now Antilochus, with nice survey, Observes the compass of the hollow way. 'T was where by force of wintry torrents torn,

Fast by the road a precipice was worn: 500 Here, where but one could pass, to shun the throng,

The Spartan hero's chariot smoked along. Close up the venturous youth resolves to keep,

Still edging near, and bears him tow'rd the steep.

Atrides, trembling, casts his eye below, And wonders at the rashness of his foe: 'Hold, stay your steeds what madness thus to ride

This narrow way! Take larger field' (he

For since the goal they doubled, round the plain

I search to find them, but I search in vain. Perchance the reins forsook the driver's hand,

And, turn'd too short, he tumbled on the strand,

Shot from the chariot; while his coursers stray

550

With frantic fury from the destin'd way. Rise then some other, and inform my sight

(For these dim eyes, perhaps, discern not right);

Yet sure he seems (to judge by shape and air)

The great Etolian Chief, renown'd in war.' 'Old man!' (Oïleus rashly thus replies), Thy tongue too hastily confers the prize. Of those who view the course, not sharpest eyed,

Nor youngest, yet the readiest to decide. Eumelus' steeds high-bounding in the

chase,

560

513

side

make?

can we

570

borne,

scorn

test end.'

No sooner had he spoke, but, thund'ring

With joy brave Sthenelus receives the

prize,

The tripod-vase, and dame with radiant eyes:

These to the ships his train triumphant

leads,

The Chief himself unyokes the panting steeds.

Young Nestor follows (who by art, not force,

O'erpass'd Atrides), second in the course. Behind, Atrides urged the race, more near Than to the courser in his swift career 600 The foll'wing car, just touching with his heel

And brushing with his tail the whirling wheel:

Such, and so narrow, now the space between

The rivals, late so distant on the green; So soon swift the her lost ground regain'd,

One length, one moment, had the race obtain'd.

Merion pursued, at greater distance still,

Fortune denies, but justice bids us pay
(Since great Tydides bears the first away)
To him the second honours of the day.'

The Greeks consent with loud applauding cries,

And then Eumelus had receiv'd the prize, But youthful Nestor, jealous of his fame, Th' award and asserts his claim: 620 opposes, 'Think not' (he cries), 'I tamely will resign,

O Peleus' son! the mare so justly mine. What if the Gods, the skilful to confound, Have thrown the horse and horseman to

Thus spake the youth, nor did his words offend;

Pleas'd with the well-turn'd flattery of a friend,

Achilles smiled: The gift proposed' (he cried),

'Antilochus we shall ourselves provide. With plates of brass the corslet cover'd o'er

(The same renown'd Asteropæns wore), 64 Whose glitt'ring margins rais'd with silver shine

(No vulgar gift), Enmelus, shall be thine.' He said: Automedon at his command The corslet brought, and gave it to his hand.

Distinguish'd by his friend, his bosom glows With gen'rous joy; then Menelaus rose; The herald placed the sceptre in his hands, And still'd the clamour of the shouting

bands.

'Tis now Atrides' turn to yield to thee. Rash heat perhaps a moment might control,

Not break, the settled temper of thy soul. Not but (my friend) t' is still the wiser way To waive contention with superior sway: For ah! how few, who should like thee offend, 691

Like thee, have talents to regain the friend? To plead indulgence, and thy fault atone, Suffice thy father's merits, and thy own: Gen'rous alike, for me the sire and son Have greatly suffer'd, and have greatly done.

I yield that all may know my soul can bend,

Nor is my pride preferr'd before my friend.'

He said: and pleas'd his passion to command,

Resign'd the courser to Noëmon's hand, 700 Friend of the youthful Chief: himself content,

The shining charger to his vessel sent.
The golden talents Merion next obtain'd;
The fifth reward, the double bowl, re-
main'd.

Achilles this to rev'rend Nestor bears,
And thus the purpose of his gift declares:

The quoit to toss, the pond'rous mace to

wield,

Or urge the race, or wrestle on the field: Thy pristine vigour age has overthrown, But left the glory of the past thy own.'

He said, and placed the goblet at his side:

With joy the venerable King replied: 'Wisely and well, my son, thy words have prov'd

A senior honour'd and a friend belov'd! 720 Too true it is, deserted of my strength, These wither'd arms and limbs have fail'd at length.

Oh! had I now that force I felt of yore, Known thro' Buprasium and the Pylian

shore !

Such once I was! Now to these tasks succeeds younger race, that emulate our deeds: I yield, alas! (to age who must not yield?) Tho' once the foremost hero of the field. Go thou, my son! by gen'rous friendship led,

With martial honours decorate the dead; While pleas'd I take the gift thy hands

present

(Pledge of benevolence, and kind intent); Rejoic'd, of all the numerous Greeks, to see Not one but honours sacred age and me: Those due distinctions thou so well canst

May the just Gods return another day.' Proud of the gift, thus spake the Full of

Days:

Achilles heard him, prouder of the praise.

The prizes next are order'd to the field, For the bold champions who the cæstus wield.