The Iliad, Homer [librera reader .TXT] 📗

the tent they laid them, overspread With veil of linen fair; then meting out Th’ allotted space, the deep foundations laid Around the pyre, and o’er them heap’d the earth.

Their task accomplished, all had now withdrawn; But Peleus’ son the vast assembly stay’d, And bade them sit; then, prizes of the games, Tripods and caldrons from the tents he brought, And noble steeds, and mules, and sturdy steers, And women fair of form, and iron hoar.

 

First, for the contest of the flying cars The prizes he display’d: a woman fair, Well skill’d in household cares; a tripod vast, Two-handled, two and twenty measures round; These both were for the victor: for the next, A mare, unbroken, six years old, in foal Of a mule colt; the third, a caldron bright, Capacious of four measures, white and pure, By fire as yet untarnish’d; for the fourth, Of gold two talents; for the fifth, a vase With double cup, untouch’d by fire, he gave.

Then, standing up, he thus address’d the Greeks: “Thou son of Atreus, and ye well-greav’d Greeks, Before ye are the prizes, which await

The contest of the cars; but if, ye Greeks, For any other cause these games were held, I to my tent should bear the foremost prize; For well ye know how far my steeds excel, Steeds of immortal race, which Neptune gave To Peleus, he to me, his son, transferr’d.

But from the present strife we stand aloof, My horses and myself; they now have lost The daring courage and the gentle hand Of him who drove them, and with water pure Wash’d oft their manes, and bath’d with fragrant oil.

For him they stand and mourn, with drooping heads Down to the ground, their hearts with sorrow fill’d; But ye in order range yourselves, who boast Your well-built chariots and your horses’ speed.”

 

He said: up sprang the eager charioteers; The first of all, Eumelus, King of men, Son of Admetus, matchless charioteer;

Next, Tydeus’ son, the valiant Diomed, With Trojan horses, from AEneas won,

When by Apollo’s aid himself escap’d;

Then Heav’n-born Menelaus, Atreus’ son, Two flying coursers harness’d to his car; His own, Podargus, had for yokefellow

AEthe, a mare by Agamemnon lent:

Her, Echepolus to Atrides gave,

Anchises’ son, that to the wars of Troy He might not be compell’d, but safe at home Enjoy his ease; for Jove had bless’d his store With ample wealth, in Sicyon’s wide domain.

Her now he yok’d, impatient for the course.

The fourth, Antilochus, the gallant son Of Nestor, son of Neleus, mighty chief, Harness’d his sleek-skinn’d steeds; of Pylian race Were they who bore his car; to him, his sire Sage counsel pour’d in understanding ears: “Antilochus, though young in years thou art, Yet Jove and Neptune love thee, and have well Instructed thee in horsemanship; of me Thou need’st no counsel; skill’d around the goal To whirl the chariot; but thou hast, of all, The slowest horses: whence I augur ill.

But though their horses have the speed of thine, In skill not one of them surpasses thee.

Then thou, dear boy, exert thine ev’ry art, That so thou mayst not fail to gain a prize.

By skill, far more than strength, the woodman fells The sturdy oak; by skill the steersman guides His flying ship across the dark-blue sea, Though shatter’d by the blast; ‘twixt charioteer And charioteer ‘tis skill that draws the line.

One, vainly trusting to his coursers’ speed, Drives reckless here and there; o’er all the course, His horses, unrestrain’d, at random run.

Another, with inferior horses far,

But better skill’d, still fixing on the goal His eye, turns closely round, nor overlooks The moment when to draw the rein; but holds His steady course, and on the leader waits.

A mark I give thee now, thou canst not miss: There stands a wither’d trunk, some six feet high, Of oak, or pine, unrotted by the rain; On either side have two white stones been plac’d, Where meet two roads; and all around there lies A smooth and level course; here stood perchance The tomb of one who died long years ago; Or former generations here have plac’d, As now Achilles hath decreed, a goal.

There drive, as only not to graze the post; And leaning o’er the wicker body, leave Close on the left the stones; thine offside horse Then urge with voice and whip, and slack his rein, And let the nearside horse so closely graze, As that thy nave may seem to touch, the goal: But yet beware, lest, striking on the stone, Thy steeds thou injure, and thy chariot break, A source of triumph to thy rivals all, Of shame to thee; but thou sage caution use; For, following, if thou make the turn the first, Not one of all shall pass thee, or o’ertake; Not though Arion’s self were in the car, Adrastus’ flying steed, of heav’nly race, Nor those which here Laomedon possess’d.”

 

This said, and to his son his counsels giv’n, The aged Nestor to his seat withdrew.

Fifth in the lists Meriones appear’d.

They mounted on their cars, and cast their lots: Achilles shook the helmet; first leaped forth The lot of Nestor’s son, Antilochus;

Next came the King Eumelus; after whom The valiant Menelaus, Atreus’ son;

The fourth, Meriones; and last of all, But ablest far, Tydides drew his place.

They stood in line; Achilles pointed out, Ear on the level plain, the distant goal; And there in charge the godlike Phoenix plac’d, His father’s ancient follower, to observe The course assign’d, and true report to make.

Then all at once their whips they rais’d, and urg’d By rein, and hand, and voice, their eager steeds.

They from the ships pursued their rapid course Athwart the distant plain; beneath their chests Rose like a cloud, or hurricane, the dust; Loose floated on the breeze their ample manes; The cars now skimm’d along the fertile ground, Now bounded high in air; the charioteers Stood up aloft, and ev’ry bosom beat

With hope of vict’ry; each with eager shout Cheering his steeds, that scour’d the dusty plain.

But when, the farthest limits of the course Attain’d, they turn’d beside the hoary sea, Strain’d to their utmost speed, were plainly seen The qualities of each; then in the front Appear’d Eumelus’ flying mares, and next The Trojan horses of Tydides came:

Nor these were far behind, but following close They seem’d in act to leap upon the car.

Eumelus, on his neck and shoulders broad, Felt their warm breath; for o’er him, as they flew, Their heads were downward bent; and now, perchance, Had he or pass’d, or made an even race, But that, incens’d with valiant Diomed, Apollo wrested from his hands the whip.

Then tears of anger from his eyelids fell, As gaining more and more the mares he saw, While, urg’d no more, his horses slack’d their speed.

But Pallas mark’d Apollo’s treach’rous wile; And hasting to the chief, restor’d his whip, And to his horses strength and courage gave.

The Goddess then Admetus’ son pursued, And snapp’d his chariot yoke; the mares, releas’d, Swerv’d from the track; the pole upon the ground Lay loosen’d from the car; and he himself Beside the wheel was from the chariot hurl’d.

From elbows, mouth, and nose, the skin was torn; His forehead crush’d and batter’d in; his eyes Were fill’d with tears, and mute his cheerful voice.

Tydides turn’d aside, and far ahead

Of all the rest, pass’d on; for Pallas gave His horses courage, and his triumph will’d.

Next him, the fair-hair’d Menelaus came, The son of Atreus; but Antilochus

Thus to his father’s horses call’d aloud: “Forward, and stretch ye to your utmost speed; I ask you not with those of Diomed

In vain to strive, whom Pallas hath endued With added swiftness, and his triumph will’d; But haste ye, and o’ertake Atrides’ car, Nor be by AEthe, by a mare, disgrac’d.

Why, my brave horses, why be left behind?

This too I warn ye, and will make it good: No more at Nestor’s hand shall ye receive Your provender, but with the sword be slain, If by your faults a lower prize be ours; Then rouse ye now, and put forth all your speed, And I will so contrive, as not to fail Of slipping past them in the narrow way.”

 

He said; the horses, of his voice in awe, Put forth their pow’rs awhile; before them soon Antilochus the narrow pass espied.

It was a gully, where the winter’s rain Had lain collected, and had broken through A length of road, and hollow’d out the ground: There Menelaus held his cautious course.

Fearing collision; but Antilochus,

Drawing his steeds a little from the track, Bore down upon him sideways: then in fear, The son of Atreus to Antilochus

Shouted aloud, “Antilochus, thou driv’st Like one insane; hold in awhile thy steeds; Here is no space; where wider grows the road, There thou mayst pass; but here, thou wilt but cause Our cars to clash, and bring us both to harm.”

 

He said; but madlier drove Antilochus, Plying the goad, as though he heard him not.

 

Far as a discus’ flight, by some stout youth, That tests his vigour, from the shoulder hurl’d, So far they ran together, side by side: Then dropp’d Atrides’ horses to the rear, For he himself forbore to urge their speed, Lest, meeting in the narrow pass, the cars Should be o’erthrown, and they themselves, in haste To gain the vict’ry, in the dust be roll’d.

Then thus, reproachful, to Antilochus: “Antilochus, thou most perverse of men!

Beshrew thy heart! we Greeks are much deceiv’d Who give thee fame for wisdom! yet e’en now Thou shalt not gain, but on thine oath, the prize.”

 

He said, and to his horses call’d aloud: “Slack not your speed, nor, as defeated, mourn; Their legs and feet will sooner tire than yours, For both are past the vigour of their youth.”

Thus he; the horses, of his voice in awe, Put forth their pow’rs, and soon the leaders near’d.

 

Meanwhile the chieftains, seated in the ring, Look’d for the cars, that scour’d the dusty plain.

The first to see them was Idomeneus,

The Cretan King; for he, without the ring, Was posted high aloft; and from afar

He heard and knew the foremost horseman’s voice; Well too he knew the gallant horse that led, All bay the rest, but on his front alone A star of white, full-orbed as the moon: Then up he rose, and thus the Greeks address’d: “O friends, the chiefs and councillors of Greece, Can ye too see, or I alone, the cars?

A diff’rent chariot seems to me in front, A diff’rent charioteer; and they who first Were leading, must have met with some mischance.

I saw them late, ere round the goal they turn’d, But see them now no more; though all around My eyes explore the wide-spread plain of Troy.

Perchance the charioteer has dropp’d the reins, Or round the goal he could not hold the mares; Perchance has miss’d the turn, and on the plain Is lying now beside his broken car,

While from the course his mettled steeds have flown.

Stand up, and look yourselves; I cannot well Distinguish; but to me it seems a chief, Who reigns o’er Greeks, though of AEtolian race, The son of Tydeus, valiant Diomed.”

 

Sharply Oileus’ active son replied:

“Idomeneus, why thus, before the time, So rashly speak? while the high-stepping steeds Are speeding yet across the distant plain.

Thine eyes are not the youngest in the camp, Nor look they out the sharpest from thy head; But thou art ever hasty in thy speech, And ill becomes thee this precipitance.

Since others are there here, thy betters far.

The same are leading now, that led at first, Eumelus’ mares;