by Homer
And with the fire consume the dead; his pray'r
Swift Iris heard, and bore it to the Winds.
They in the hall of gusty Zephyrus
Were gather'd round the feast; in haste appearing,
Swift Iris on the stony threshold stood.
They saw, and rising all, besought her each
To sit beside him; she with their requests
Refus'd compliance, and address'd them thus:
"No seat for me; for I o'er th' ocean stream
From hence am bound to AEthiopia's shore,
To share the sacred feast, and hecatombs,
Which there they offer to th' immortal Gods;
But, Boreas, thee, and loud-voic'd Zephyrus,
With vows of sacrifice, Achilles calls
To fan the fun'ral pyre, whereon is laid
Patroclus, mourn'd by all the host of Greece."
She said, and vanish'd; they, with rushing sound,
Rose, and before them drove the hurrying clouds:
Soon o'er the sea they swept; the stirring breeze
Ruffled the waves; the fertile shores of Troy
They reach'd, and falling on the fun'ral pyre,
Loud roar'd the crackling flames; they all night long
With current brisk together fann'd the fire.
All night Achilles from a golden bowl
Drew forth, and, in his hand a double cup,
The wine outpouring, moisten'd all the earth,
Still calling on his lost Patroclus' shade.
As mourns a father o'er a youthful son,
Whose early death hath wrung his parents' hearts;
So mourn'd Achilles o'er his friend's remains,
Prostrate beside the pyre, and groan'd aloud.
But when the star of Lucifer appear'd,
The harbinger of light, whom following close
Spreads o'er the sea the saffron-robed morn,
Then pal'd the smould'ring fire, and sank the flame;
And o'er the Thracian sea, that groan'd and heav'd
Beneath their passage, home the Winds return'd;
And weary, from the pyre a space withdrawn,
Achilles lay, o'ercome by gentle sleep.
Anon, awaken'd by the tramp and din
Of crowds that follow'd Atreus' royal son,
He sat upright, and thus address'd his speech:
"Thou son of Atreus, and ye chiefs of Greece,
Far as the flames extended, quench we first
With ruddy wine the embers of the pyre;
And of Menoetius' son, Patroclus, next
With care distinguishing, collect the bones;
Nor are they hard to know; for in the midst
He lay, while round the edges of the pyre,
Horses and men commix'd, the rest were burnt.
Let these, between a double layer of fat
Enclos'd, and in a golden urn remain,
Till I myself shall in the tomb be laid;
And o'er them build a mound, not over-large,
But of proportions meet; in days to come,
Ye Greeks, who after me shall here remain,
Complete the work, and build it broad and high."
Thus spoke Achilles; they his words obey'd:
Far as the flames had reach'd, and thickly strown
The embers lay, they quench'd with ruddy wine;
Then tearfully their gentle comrade's bones
Collected, and with double layers of fat
Enclos'd, and in a golden urn encas'd;
Then in 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
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; 'tis he that holds the reins."
To whom in anger thus the Cretan chief:
"Ajax, at wrangling good, in judgment naught,
And for aught else, among the chiefs of Greece
Of small account — so stubborn is thy soul;
Wilt thou a tripod or a caldron stake,
And Agamemnon, Atreus' son, appoint
The umpire to decide whose steeds are first?
So shalt thou gain thy knowledge at thy cost."
He said; up sprang Oileus' active son,
In anger to reply; and farther yet
Had gone the quarrel, but Achilles' self
Stood up, and thus the rival chiefs address'd:
"Forbear, both Ajax and Idomeneus,
This bitter interchange of wordy war;
It is not seemly; and yourselves, I know,
Another would condemn, who so should speak.
But stay ye here, and seated in the ring,
Their coming wait; they, hurrying to the goal,
Will soon be here; and then shall each man know
Whose horses are the second, whose the first."
Thus he; but Tydeus' son drew near, his lash