Classic Poem

Thus mourn'd all Troy: but when at fleet and Hellespontus' shore
The Greeks arriv'd each to his ship, onely the Conqueror
Kept undisperst his Myrmidons, and said: ‘Lov'd countrimen,
Disjoyne not we chariots and horse, but (bearing hard our reine)
With state of both march soft and close, and mourne about the corse.
Tis proper honour to the dead. Then take we out our horse,
When with our friend's kind woe our hearts have felt delight to do
A virtuous soule right, and then sup.’ This said, all full of woe
Circl'd the Corse. Achilles led, and thrise about him close
All bore their goodly-coted horse. Amongst all, Thetis rose
And stirr'd up a delight in griefe, till all their armes with teares
And all the sands were wet—so much they lov'd that Lord of Feares.
Then to the center fell the Prince, and (putting in the breast
Of his slaine friend his slaughtring hands) began to all the rest
Words to their teares: ‘Rejoyce,’ said he, ‘O my Patroclus, thou
Courted by Dis now, now I pay to thy late overthrow
All my revenges vow'd before. Hector lies slaughterd here
Dragd at my chariot, and our dogs shall all in peeces teare
His hated lims. Twelve Troyan youths, borne of their noblest straines,
I tooke alive, and (yet enrag'd) will emptie all their vaines
Of vitall spirits, sacrifisde before thy heape of fire.’
This said, a worke unworthy him he put upon his ire,
And trampl'd Hector under foote at his friend's feet. The rest
Disarm'd, tooke horse from chariot, and all to sleepe addrest
At his blacke vessell. Infinite were those that rested there.
Himselfe yet sleepes not; now his spirits were wrought about the chere
Fit for so high a funerall. About the steele usde then
Oxen in heapes lay bellowing, preparing food for men.
Bleating of sheepe and goates fild aire; numbers of white-tooth'd swine
(Swimming in fat) lay sindging there: the person of the slaine
Was girt with slaughter. All this done, all the Greeke kings convaid
Achilles to the king of men, his rage not yet allaid
For his Patroclus. Being arriv'd at Agamemnon's tent,
Himselfe bad Heralds put to fire a Caldron and present
The service of it to the Prince, to trie if they could win
His pleasure to admit their paines to cleanse the blood sok't in
About his conquering hands and browes. ‘Not, by the king of heaven!’
He swore. ‘The lawes of friendship damne this false-heart licence given
To men that lose friends: not a drop shall touch me till I put
Patroclus in the funerall pile, before these curles be cut,
His tombe erected. Tis the last of all care I shall take,
While I consort the carefull. Yet, for your entreaties' sake
(And though I lothe food) I will eate. But early in the morne,
Atrides, use your strict command that lodes of wood be borne
To our design'd place, all that fits to light home such a one
As is to passe the shades of Death—that fire enough set gone
His person quickly from our eyes, and our diverted men
May plie their businesse.’ This all eares did freely entertaine
And found observance. Then they supt with all things fit, and all
Repair'd to tents and rest. The friend the shores maritimall
Sought for his bed, and found a place, faire, and upon which plaide
The murmuring billowes. There his lims to rest, not sleepe, he laid,
Heavily sighing. Round about (silent, and not too neare)
Stood all his Myrmidons, when straite (so over-labour'd were
His goodly lineaments with chace of Hector that beyond
His resolution not to sleepe) Sleepe cast his sodaine bond
Over his sense and losde his care. Then of his wretched friend
The soule appear'd; at every part the forme did comprehend
His likenesse; his faire eyes, his voice, his stature, every weed
His person wore it fantased, and stood above his head,
This sad speech uttering: ‘Dost thou sleepe? Æacides, am I
Forgotten of thee? Being alive, I found thy memorie
Ever respectfull, but now, dead, thy dying love abates.
Interre me quickly; enter me in Pluto's iron gates;
For now the soules (the shades) of men fled from this being beate
My spirit from rest and stay my much desir'd receipt
Amongst soules plac't beyond the flood. Now every way I erre
About this brode-dor'd house of Dis. O helpe then to preferre
My soule yet further; here I mourne, but had the funerall fire
Consum'd my bodie, never more my spirit should retire
From hel's low region: from thence soules never are retriv'd
To talke with friends here, nor shall I. A hatefull fate depriv'd
My being here, that at my birth was fixt; and to such fate
Even thou, O god-like man, art markt; the deadly Ilian gate
Must entertaine thy death. O then, I charge thee now take care
That our bones part not, but, as life combinde in equall fare,
Our loving beings, so let Death. When from Opunta's towres
My father brought me to your roofes (since (gainst my will) my powres,
Incenst and indiscreet at dice, slue faire Amphidamas),
Then Peleus entertaind me well; then in thy charge I was
By his injunction and thy love: and therein let me still
Receive protection. Both our bones provide, in thy last Will,
That one Urne may containe, and make that vessell all of gold
That Thetis gave thee—that rich Urne.’ This said, Sleepe ceast to hold
Achilles' temples, and the shade thus he receiv'd: ‘O friend,
What needed these commands? My care, before, meant to commend
My bones to thine, and in that Urne. Be sure thy will is done.
A little stay yet, let's delight, with some full passion
Of woe enough, either's affects; embrace we.’ Opening thus
His greedie armes, he felt no friend: like matter vaporous
The spirit vanisht under earth and murmur'd in his stoope.
Achilles started; both his hands he clapt and lifted up,
In this sort wondring: ‘O ye gods, I see we have a soule
In th' underdwellings, and a kind of man-resembling idole:
The soule's seate yet, all matter left, staies with the carkasse here.
O friends, haplesse Patroclus' soule did all this night appeare,
Weeping and making mone to me, commanding every thing
That I intended towards him, so truly figuring
Himselfe at all parts as was strange.’ This accident did turne
To much more sorrow, and begat a greedinesse to mourne
In all that heard. When, mourning thus, the rosie morne arose
And Agamemnon through the tents wak't all, and did dispose
Both men and Mules for cariage of matter for the fire—
Of all which worke Meriones (the Cretan soveraign's squire)
Was Captaine, and abrode they went. Wood-cutting tooles they bore
Of all hands, and well-twisted cords. The Mules marcht all before,
Up hill and downe hill, overthwarts, and breake-necke clifts they past.
But when the fountfull Ida's tops they scal'd, with utmost haste
All fell upon the high-hair'd Okes, and downe their curled browes
Fell busling to the earth, and up went all the boles and bowes
Bound to the Mules; and backe againe they parted the harsh way
Amongst them through the tangling shrubs—and long they thought the day
Till in the plaine field all arriv'd, for all the woodmen bore
Logs on their neckes—Meriones would have it so. The shore
At last they reacht yet, and then downe their cariages they cast
And sat upon them, where the sonne of Peleus had plac't
The ground for his great sepulcher, and for his friend's, in one.
They raisd a huge pile, and to armes went every Myrmidon,
Charg'd by Achilles. Chariots and horse were harnessed;
Fighters and charioters got up, and they the sad march led,
A cloude of infinite foote behind. In midst of all was borne
Patroclus' person by his Peeres: on him were all heads shorne,
Even till they cover'd him with curles. Next to him marcht his friend
Embracing his cold necke, all sad since now he was to send
His dearest to his endlesse home. Arriv'd all where the wood
Was heapt for funerall, they set downe. Apart Achilles stood,
And, when enough wood was heapt on, he cut his golden haire,
Long kept for Sperchius, the flood, in hope of safe repaire
To Phthia by that river's powre; but now, left hopelesse thus,
(Enrag'd, and looking on the sea) he cried out: ‘Sperchius,
In vaine my father's pietie vow'd (at my implor'd returne
To my lov'd countrie) that these curls should on thy shores be shorne—
Besides a sacred Hecatombe, and sacrifice beside
Of fiftie Weathers, at those founts where men have edifide
A loftie temple and perfum'd an altar to thy name.
There vow'd he all these offerings; but fate prevents thy fame,
His hopes not suffering satisfied. And since I never more
Shall see my lov'd soyle, my friend's hands shall to the Stygian shore
Convey these Tresses.’ Thus he put in his friend's hands the haire.
And this bred fresh desire of mone; and in that sad affaire
The Sunne had set amongst them all, had Thetis' sonne not spoke
Thus to Atrides: ‘King of men, thy aide I still invoke,
Since thy Command all men still heare. Dismisse thy souldiers now
And let them victle; they have mourn'd sufficient; tis we owe
The dead this honour, and with us let all the Captaines stay.’
This heard, Atrides instantly the souldiers sent away.
The funerall officers remain'd and heapt on matter still,
Till of an hundred foote about they made the funerall pile,
In whose hote height they cast the Corse; and then they pour'd on teares.
Numbers of fat sheepe, and like store of crooked-going steres,
They slue before the solemne fire, stript off their hides and drest.
Of which Achilles tooke the fat, and cover'd the deceast
From head to foote, and round about he made the officers pile
The beasts' nak't bodyes, vessels full of honey and of oyle
Pour'd in them laide upon a bere, and cast into the fire.
Foure goodly horse, and of nine hounds two most in the desire
Of that great Prince and trencher-fed, all fed that hungry flame.
Twelve Troyan Princes last stood foorth, yong and of toward fame—
All which (set on with wicked spirits) there strooke he, there he slew.
And to the iron strength of fire their noble lims he threw.
Then breath'd his last sighes, and these words: ‘Againe rejoyce, my friend,
Even in the joylesse depth of hell: now give I complete end
To all my vowes. Alone thy life sustain'd not violence;
Twelve Troyan Princes waite on thee and labour to incense
Thy glorious heape of funerall. Great Hector I'le excuse;
The dogs shall eate him.’ These high threates perform'd not their abuse;
Jove's daughter, Venus, tooke the guard of noble Hector's Corse
And kept the dogs off, night and day applying soveraigne force
Of rosie balmes that to the dogs were horrible in tast,
And with which she the body fild. Renowm'd Apollo cast
A cloude from heaven, lest with the Sunne the nerves and lineaments
Might drie and putrifie. And now some powres denide consents
To this solemnitie: the fire (for all the oyly fewell
It had injected) would not burne; and then the loving Cruell
Studied for helpe and, standing off, invokt the two faire winds
(Zephyr and Boreas) to affoord the rage of both their kinds
To aid his outrage. Precious gifts his earnest zeale did vow,
Powr'd from a golden bowle much wine, and prayde them both to blow,
That quickly his friend's Corse might burne and that heape's sturdy breast
Embrace Consumption. Iris heard. The winds were at a feast,
All in the Court of Zephyrus (that boisterous blowing aire)
Gather'd together. She that weares the thousand-colourd haire
Flew thither, standing in the porch. They (seeing her) all arose,
Cald to her; every one desir'd she would a while repose
And eate with them. She answerd: ‘No, no place of seate is here;
Retreate cals to the Ocean and Æthiopia where
A Hecatombe is offering now to heaven; and there must I
Partake the feast of sacrifise. I come to signifie
That Thetis' sonne implores your aides, Princes of North and West,
With vowes of much faire sacrifise if each will set his breast
Against his heape of funerall and make it quickly burne.
Patroclus lies there, whose deceasse all the Achaians mourne.’
She said, and parted; and out rusht with an unmeasur'd rore
Those two winds, tumbling clouds in heapes, ushers to either's blore.
And instantly they reacht the sea. Up flew the waves; the gale
Was strong, reacht fruitfull Troy, and full upon the fire they fall.
The huge heape thunderd. All night long from his chok't breast they blew
A liberall flame up; and all night swift-foote Achilles threw
Wine from a golden bowle on earth, and steept the soyle in wine,
Still calling on Patroclus' soule. No father could incline
More to a sonne most deare, nor more mourne at his burned bones,
Than did the great Prince to his friend at his combustions—
Still creeping neare and neare the heape, still sighing, weeping still.
But when the day-starre look't abrode and promist from his hill
Light, which the saffron morne made good and sprinkl'd on the seas,
Then languisht the great pile, then sunke the flames, and then calme Peace
Turn'd backe the rough winds to their homes; the Thracian billow rings
Their high retreate, rufl'd with cuffes of their triumphant wings.
Pelides then forsooke the pile and to his tired limme
Chusd place of rest, where laide, sweete sleepe fell to his wish on him—
When all the king's guard (waiting then, perceiving will to rise
In that great Session) hurried in, and op't againe his eyes
With tumult of their troope and haste. A little then he rear'd
His troubled person, sitting up, and this affaire referd
To wisht commandment of the kings: ‘Atrides, and the rest
Of our Commanders generall, vouchsafe me this request
Before your parting. Give in charge the quenching with blacke wine
Of this heape's reliques, every brand the yellow fire made shine.
And then let search Patroclus' bones, distinguishing them well;
As well ye may, they kept the midst, the rest at randome fell
About th' extreme part of the pile—men's bones, and horses' mixt.
Being found, I'le finde an urne of gold t' enclose them, and betwixt
The aire and them two kels of fat lay on them, and to Rest
Commit them till mine owne bones seale our love, my soule deceast.
The sepulcher I have not charg'd to make of too much state,
But of a modell something meane, that you of yonger Fate
(When I am gone) may amplifie with such a bredth and height
As fits your judgements and our worths.’ This charge receiv'd his weight
In all observance. First they quencht with sable wine the heape,
As farre as it had fed the flame. The ash fell wondrous deepe,
In which his consorts, that his life religiously lov'd,
Searcht weeping for his bones; which found, they conscionably prov'd
His will made to Æacides, and what his love did adde.
A golden vessell, double fat, containd them—all which (clad
In vailes of linnen, pure and rich) were solemnly convaid
T' Achilles' tent. The platforme then about the pile they laid
Of his fit sepulcher, and raisd a heape of earth, and then
Offerd departure. But the Prince retaind there still his men,
Employing them to fetch from fleete rich Tripods for his games,
Caldrons, Horse, Mules, brode-headed Beeves, bright steele and brighter dames.
The best at horse race he ordain'd a Lady for his prise,
Generally praisefull, faire and yong, and skild in housewiferies
Of all kinds fitting, and withall, a Trivet that enclosde
Twentie two measures roome, with eares. The next prise he proposde
Was (that which then had high respect) a mare of sixe yeares old,
Unhandl'd, horsed with a mule, and readie to have foald.
The third game was a Caldron, new, faire, bright, and could for sise
Containe two measures. For the fourth two talents' quantities
Of finest gold. The fift game was a great new standing cup
To set downe both waies. These brought in, Achilles then stood up,
And said: ‘Atrides, and my Lords, chiefe horsemen of our host,
These games expect ye. If my selfe should interpose my most
For our horse race, I make no doubt but I should take againe
These gifts proposde. Ye all know well of how divine a straine
My horse are, and how eminent. Of Neptune's gift they are
To Peleus, and of his to me. My selfe then will not share
In gifts given others, nor my steeds breathe any spirit to shake
Their airie pasterns, so they mourne for their kind guider's sake,
Late lost, that usde with humorous oyle to slick their loftie manes,
Cleare water having cleansd them first; and (his bane being their banes)
Those loftie manes now strew the earth, their heads held shaken downe.
You then that trust in chariots and hope with horse to crowne
Your conquering temples, gird your selves; now fame and prise stretch for
All that have spirits.’ This fir'd all. The first competitor
Was king Eumelus, whom the Art of horsemanship did grace,
Sonne to Admetus. Next to him rose Diomed to the race,
That under reines rul'd Troyan horse, of late forc't from the sonne
Of Lord Anchises, himselfe freed of neare confusion
By Phœbus. Next to him set foorth the yellow-headed king
Of Lacedæmon, Jove's high seed, and in his managing
Podargus and swift Æthe trod, steeds to the king of men—
Æthe given by Echepolus, the Anchisiaden,
As bribe to free him from the warre resolv'd for Ilion,
So Delicacie feasted him whom Jove bestow'd upon
A mightie wealth; his dwelling was in brode Sicyone.
Old Nestor's sonne, Antilochus, was fourth for chivalrie
In this Contention; his faire horse were of the Pylian breed,
And his old father (coming neare) inform'd him (for good speed)
With good Race notes, in which himselfe could good instruction give:
‘Antilochus, though yong thou art, yet thy grave virtues live
Belov'd of Neptune and of Jove: their spirits have taught thee all
The art of horsemanship, for which the lesse thy merits fall
In need of doctrine. Well thy skill can wield a chariot
In all fit turnings; yet thy horse their slow feet handle not
As fits thy manage, which makes me cast doubts of thy successe.
I well know all these are not seene in art of this addresse
More than thy selfe: their horses yet superior are to thine
For their parts; thine want speed to make discharge of a designe
To please an Artist. But go on, shew but thy art and hart
At all points, and set them against their horses, heart and art;
Good Judges will not see thee lose. A Carpenter's desert
Stands more in cunning than in powre. A Pylote doth avert
His vessell from the rocke and wracke, tost with the churlish winds,
By skill, not strength. So sorts it here. One chariotere that finds
Want of another's powre in horse must in his owne skill set
An overplus of that to that; and so the proofe will get
Skill, that still rests within a man, more grace than powre without.
He that in horse and chariots trusts is often hurl'd about
This way and that unhandsomely, all heaven wide of his end.
He better skild, that rules worse horse, will all observance bend
Right on the scope still of a Race, beare neare, know ever when to reine,
When give reine, as his foe before (well noted in his veine
Of manage and his steeds' estate) presents occasion.
I'le give thee instance now, as plaine as if thou saw'st it done.
Here stands a drie stub of some tree, a cubite from the ground
(Suppose the stub of Oake or Larch, for either are so sound
That neither rots with wet) two stones, white (marke you) white for view,
Parted on either side the stub; and these lay where they drew
The way into a streight, the Race betwixt both lying cleare.
Imagine them some monument of one long since tomb'd there,
Or that they had bene lists of race for men of former yeares—
As now the lists Achilles sets may serve for charioteres
Many yeares hence. When neare to these the race growes, then as right
Drive on them as thy eye can judge; then lay thy bridle's weight
Most of thy left side, thy right horse then switching; all thy throte
(Spent in encouragments) give him, and all the reine let flote
About his shoulders. Thy neare horse will yet be he that gave
Thy skill the prise, and him reine so his head may touch the Nave
Of thy left wheele—but then take care thou runst not on the stone
(With wracke of horse and chariot) which so thou bear'st upon.
Shipwracke within the haven avoide by all meanes; that will breed
Others' delight, and thee a shame. Be wise then and take heed
(My lov'd sonne) get but to be first at turning in the course;
He lives not that can cote thee then, not if he backt the horse
The gods bred and Adrastus ow'd. Divine Arion's speed
Could not outpace thee, or the horse Laomedon did breed,
Whose race is famous and fed here.’ Thus sat Neleides,
When all that could be said was said. And then Meriones
Set fiftly forth his faire-man'd horse. All leapt to chariot,
And every man then for the start cast in his proper lot.
Achilles drew. Antilochus the lot set foremost foorth,
Eumelus next, Atrides third, Meriones the fourth;
The fifth and last was Diomed, farre first in excellence.
All stood in order, and the lists Achilles fixt farre thence
In plaine field, and a seate ordain'd fast by, in which he set
Renowmed Phœnix, that in grace of Peleus was so great,
To see the race and give a truth of all their passages.
All start together, scourg'd, and cried, and gave their businesse
Study and order. Through the field they held a winged pace.
Beneath the bosome of their steeds a dust so dim'd the race
It stood above their heads in clowds, or like to stormes amaz'd.
Manes flew like ensignes with the wind; the chariots sometime graz'd
And sometimes jumpt up to the aire, yet still sat fast the men
Their spirits even panting in their breasts with fervour to obtaine.
But when they turn'd to fleet againe, then all men's skils were tride,
Then stretcht the pasternes of their steeds. Eumelus' horse in pride
Still bore their Soveraigne. After them came Diomed's coursers close,
Still apt to leape their chariot and ready to repose
Upon the shoulders of their king their heads. His backe even burn'd
With fire that from their nostrils flew. And then their Lord had turn'd
The race for him, or given it doubt, if Phœbus had not smit
The scourge out of his hands, and teares of helplesse wrath with it
From forth his eyes to see his horse for want of scourge made slow,
And th' others (by Apollo's helpe) with much more swiftnesse go.
Apollo's spite Pallas discern'd and flew to Tydeus' sonne,
His scourge reacht, and his horse made fresh. Then tooke her angry runne
At king Eumelus, brake his geres, his mares on both sides flew,
His draught tree fell to earth, and him the tost-up chariot threw
Downe to the earth, his elbowes torne, his forehead, all his face
Strooke at the center, his speech lost. And then the turned race
Fell to Tydides; before all his conquering horse he drave,
And first he glitter'd in the race; divine Athenia gave
Strength to his horse, and fame to him. Next him drave Sparta's king.
Antilochus his father's horse then urg'd with all his sting
Of scourge and voice. ‘Runne low,’ said he, ‘stretch out your lims and flie.
With Diomed's horse I bid not strive, nor with himselfe strive I.
Athenia wings his horse and him renowmes. Atrides' steeds
Are they ye must not faile but reach—and soone, lest soone succeeds
The blot of all your fames, to yeeld in swiftnesse to a mare,
To femall Æthe. What's the cause (ye best that ever were)
That thus ye faile us? Be assur'd that Nestor's love ye lose
For ever if ye faile his sonne; through both your both sides goes
His hote steele if ye suffer me to bring the last prise home.
Haste, overtake them instantly; we needs must overcome.
This harsh way next us, this my mind will take, this I despise
For perill, this I'le creepe through. Hard the way to honor lies,
And that take I, and that shall yeeld.’ His horse by all this knew
He was not pleasde and fear'd his voice, and for a while they flew.
But straite more cleare appear'd the streight Antilochus foresaw:
It was a gaspe the earth gave, forc't by humours cold and raw
Pour'd out of Winter's watrie breast, met there and cleaving deepe
All that neare passage to the lists. This Nestor's sonne would keepe
And left the rode-way, being about. Atrides fear'd, and cride:
‘Antilochus! thy course is mad; containe thy horse; we ride
A way most dangerous; turne head, betime take larger field,
We shall be splitted.’ Nestor's sonne with much more scourge impeld
His horse for this, as if not heard; and got as farre before
As any youth can cast a quoyte. Atrides would no more;
He backe againe, for feare himselfe, his goodly chariot
And horse together strew'd the dust, in being so dustie hote
Of thirsted conquest. But he chid at parting, passing sore:
‘Antilochus,’ said he, ‘a worse than thee earth never bore.
Farewell; we never thought thee wise, that were wise; but not so
Without othes shall the wreath (be sure) crowne thy mad temples Go.’
Yet he bethought him and went too, thus stirring up his steeds:
‘Leave me not last thus, nor stand vext. Let these faile in the speeds
Of feet and knees, not you. Shall these, these old jades (past the flowre
Of youth that you have) passe you?’ This the horse fear'd and more powre
Put to their knees, straite getting ground. Both flew, and so the rest;
All came in smokes, like spirits; the Greeks (set to see who did best,
Without the race, aloft) now made a new discoverie
Other than that they made at first. Idomeneus' eye
Distinguisht all; he knew the voice of Diomed, seeing a horse
Of speciall marke, of colour bay and was the first in course,
His forehead putting forth a starre round like the Moone and white.
Up stood the Cretan, uttering this: ‘Is it alone my sight,
Princes and Captaines, that discernes another leade the race
With other horse than led of late? Eumelus made most pace
With his fleete mares, and he began the flexure, as we thought.
Now all the field I search and find no where his view. Hath nought
Befalne amisse to him? Perhaps he hath not with successe
Perform'd his flexure, his reines lost or seate, or with the tresse
His chariot faild him, and his mares have outraid with affright:
Stand up, trie you your eyes, for mine hold with the second sight.
This seemes to me th' Ætolian king, the Tydean Diomed.’
‘To you it seemes so,’ rustickly Ajax Oileus said,
‘Your words are suited to your eyes. Those mares leade still that led;
Eumelus owes them, and he still holds reines and place that did,
Not falne as you hop't. You must prate before us all, though last
In judgement of all: y' are too old, your tongue goes still too fast;
You must not talke so. Here are those that better thee and looke
For first place in the censure.’ This Idomeneus tooke
In much disdaine, and thus replide: ‘Thou best in speeches worst,
Barbarous languag'd, others here might have reprov'd me first,
Not thou, unfitst of all. I hold a Tripode with thee here,
Or Caldron, and our Generall make our equall arbiter,
Whose horse are first—that when thou paist, thou then maist know.’ This fir'd
Oiliades more; and more than words this quarell had inspir'd,
Had not Achilles rose and usde this pacifying speech:
‘No more. Away with words in warre. It toucheth both with breach
Of that which fits ye. Your deserts should others reprehend
That give such foule termes. Sit ye still—the men themselves will end
The strife betwixt you instantly, and either's owne lode beare
On his owne shoulders. Then to both the first horse will appeare,
And which is second.’ These words usde, Tydides was at hand.
His horse ranne high, glanc't on the way, and up they tost the sand
Thicke on their Coachman; on their pace their chariot deckt with gold
Swiftly attended, no wheele seene, nor wheele's print in the mould
Imprest behind them. These horse flew a flight, not ranne a race.
Arriv'd, amids the lists they stood, sweate trickling downe apace
Their high manes and their prominent breasts; and downe jumpt Diomed,
Laid up his scorge aloft the seate, and straite his prise was led
Home to his tent: rough Sthenelus laid quicke hand on the dame
And handled Trivet, and sent both home by his men. Next came
Antilochus, that wonne with wiles, not swiftnesse of his horse,
Precedence of the gold-lockt king, who yet maintaind the course
So close that not the king's owne horse gat more before the wheele
Of his rich chariot than might still the insecution feele
With the extreme haires of his taile (and that sufficient close
Held to his leader, no great space it let him interpose
Considerd in so great a field). Then Nestor's wilie sonne
Gate of the king now at his heeles, though at the breach he wonne
A quoyte's cast of him, which the king againe at th' instant gaind.
Æthe Agamemnonides, that was so richly maind,
Gat strength still as she spent; which words her worth had prov'd with deeds
Had more ground bene allow'd the race, and coted farre his steeds,
No question leaving for the prise. And now Meriones
A dart's cast came behind the king, his horse of speed much lesse,
Himselfe lesse skild t' importune them and give a chariot wing.
Admetus' sonne was last, whose plight Achilles pittying,
Thus spake: ‘Best man comes last, yet Right must see his prise not least;
The second his deserts must beare, and Diomed the best.’
He said, and all allow'd; and sure the mare had bene his owne
Had not Antilochus stood forth, and in his answer showne
Good reason for his interest. ‘Achilles,’ he replied,
‘I should be angry with you much to see this ratified.
Ought you to take from me my right, because his horse had wrong,
Himselfe being good? He should have usde (as good men do) his tongue
In prayre to their powres that blesse good (not trusting to his owne)
Not to have bene in this good, last. His chariot overthrowne
O'rethrew not me. Who's last? Who's first? Men's goodnesse without these
Is not our question. If his good you pitie yet and please
Princely to grace it, your tents hold a goodly deale of gold,
Brasse, horse, sheepe, women; out of these your bountie may be bold
To take a much more worthy prise than my poore merit seekes,
And give it here before my face and all these, that the Greekes
May glorifie your liberall hands. This prise I will not yeeld.
Who beares this (whatsoever man) he beares a tried field.
His hand and mine must change some blowes.’ Achilles laught, and said:
‘If thy will be, Antilochus, I'le see Eumelus paid
Out of my tents; I'le give him th' armes which late I conquerd in
Asteropæus, forg'd of brasse and wav'd about with tin;
Twill be a present worthy him.’ This said, Automedon
He sent for them. He went, and brought; and to Admetus' sonne
Achilles gave them. He, well pleasde, receiv'd them. Then arose
Wrong'd Menelaus, much incenst with yong Antilochus.
He bent to speake, a herald tooke his Scepter and gave charge
Of silence to the other Greeks; then did the king enlarge
The spleene he prisoned, uttering this: ‘Antilochus, till now
We grant thee wise, but in this act what wisedome utter'st thou?
Thou hast disgrac't my vertue, wrong'd my horse, preferring thine,
Much their inferiors. But go to, Princes, nor his nor mine
Judge of with favour, him nor me, lest any Grecian use
This scandall: “Menelaus wonne with Nestor's sonne's abuse
The prise in question; his horse worst, himselfe yet wanne the best
By powre and greatnesse.” Yet because I would not thus contest
To make parts taking, I'le be judge; and I suppose none here
Will blame my judgement. I'le do right. Antilochus, come neare.
Come, noble gentleman, tis your place; sweare by th' earth-circling god
(Standing before your chariot and horse, and that selfe rod
With which you scourg'd them in your hand) if both with will and wile
You did not crosse my chariot.’ He thus did reconcile
Grace with his disgrace, and with wit restor'd him to his wit:
‘Now crave I patience. O king, what ever was unfit,
Ascribe to much more youth in me than you. You more in age
And more in excellence, know well the outraies that engage
All yong men's actions; sharper wits but duller wisedomes still
From us flow than from you; for which, curbe, with your wisedome, will.
The prise I thought mine, I yeeld yours; and (if you please) a prise
Of greater value to my tent I'le send for, and suffise
Your will at full and instantly. For in this point of time
I rather wish to be enjoyn'd your favor's top to clime
Than to be falling all my time from height of such a grace,
O Jove-lov'd king, and of the gods receive a curse in place.’
This said, he fetcht the prise to him; and it rejoyc't him so
That, as corne-eares shine with the dew, yet having time to grow
When fields set all their bristles up, in such a ruffe wert thou,
O Menelaus, answering thus: ‘Antilochus, I now
(Though I were angry) yeeld to thee because I see th' hadst wit,
When I thought not; thy youth hath got the mastery of thy spirit.
And yet for all this, tis more safe not to abuse at all
Great men than (ventring) trust to wit to take up what may fall.
For no man in our host beside had easely calm'd my spleene,
Stird with like tempest. But thy selfe hast a sustainer bene
Of much affliction in my cause; so thy good father too,
And so thy brother, at thy suite. I therefore let all go;
Give thee the game here, though mine owne—that all these may discerne
King Menelaus beares a mind at no part proud or sterne.’
The king thus calm'd, Antilochus receiv'd and gave the steed
To lov'd Noemon to leade thence, and then receiv'd beside
The caldron. Next Meriones, for fourth game, was to have
Two talents gold. The fift (unwonne) renowm'd Achilles gave
To reverend Nestor, being a boule to set on either end,
Which through the preasse he caried him: ‘Receive,’ said he, ‘old friend,
This gift as funerall monument of my deare friend deceast,
Whom never you must see againe. I make it his bequest
To you as, without any strife, obtaining it from all.
Your shoulders must not undergo the churlish whoorlbat's fall;
Wrastling is past you, strife in darts, the foote's celeritie;
Harsh age in his yeares fetters you, and honor sets you free.’
Thus gave he it; he tooke and joyd, but, ere he thankt, he said:
‘Now sure, my honorable sonne, in all points thou hast plaid
The comely Orator; no more must I contend with nerves;
Feete faile, and hands; armes want that strength that this and that swinge serves
Under your shoulders. Would to heaven I were so yong-chind now
And strength threw such a many of bones to celebrate this show
As when the Epians brought to fire (actively honoring thus)
King Amarynces' funerals in faire Buprasius.
His sonnes put prises downe for him, where not a man matcht me
Of all the Epians, or the sonnes of great-soul'd Ætolie—
No, nor the Pylians themselves, my countrimen. I beate
Great Clytomedeus, Enops' sonne, at buffets; at the feate
Of wrastling I laid under me one that against me rose,
Ancæus, cald Pleuronius. I made Iphiclus lose
The foot-game to me. At the speare I conquer'd Polydore
And strong Phyleus. Actor's sonnes (of all men) onely bore
The palme at horse race, conquering with lashing on more horse—
And envying my victorie, because (before their course)
All the best games were gone with me. These men were twins; one was
A most sure guide, a most sure guide. The other gave the passe
With rod and mettle. This was then. But now yong men must wage
These workes, and my joynts undergo the sad defects of age.
Though then I was another man—at that time I exceld
Amongst th' heroes. But forth now, let th' other rites be held
For thy deceast friend: this thy gift in all kind part I take,
And much it joyes my heart that still, for my true kindnesse sake,
You give me memorie. You perceive in what fit grace I stand
Amongst the Grecians, and to theirs you set your gracefull hand.
The gods give ample recompence of grace againe to thee
For this and all thy favors.’ Thus backe through the thrust drave he,
When he had staid out all the praise of old Neleides.
And now for buffets (that rough game) he orderd passages,
Proposing a laborious Mule of sixe yeares old, untam'd
And fierce in handling, brought and bound in that place where they gam'd;
And to the conquerd, a round cup. Both which he thus proclames:
‘Atrides, and all friends of Greece, two men for these two games
I bid stand forth; who best can strike with high contracted fists
(Apollo giving him the wreath), know all about these lists,
Shall winne a Mule patient of toyle—the vanquisht, this round cup.’
This utterd, Panopeus' sonne, Epeus, straight stood up,
A tall huge man that to the naile knew that rude sport of hand,
And (seising the tough mule) thus spake: ‘Now let some other stand
Forth for the cup; this Mule is mine; at cuffes I bost me best.
Is't not enough I am no souldier? Who is worthiest
At all workes? None; not possible. At this yet, this I say
And will performe this; who stands forth, I'le burst him; I will bray
His bones as in a mortar. Fetch surgeons enow to take
His corse from under me.’ This speech did all men silent make.
At last stood forth Euryalus, a man god-like, and sonne
To king Mecisteus, the grand child of honor'd Talaon.
He was so strong that (coming once to Thebes, when OEdipus
Had like rites solemniz'd for him) he went victorious
From all the Thebanes. This rare man Tydides would prepare,
Put on his girdle, oxehide cords faire wrought, and spent much care
That he might conquer, heartned him, and taught him trickes. Both drest
Fit for th' affaire; both forth were brought; then, breast opposde to breast,
Fists against fists rose, and they joynd. Ratling of jawes was there,
Gnashing of teeth, and heavie blowes dasht bloud out every where.
At length Epeus spide cleare way, rusht in, and such a blow
Drave underneath the other's eare that his neate lims did strow
The knockt earth; no more legs had he. But as a huge fish laid
Neare to the cold-weed-gathering shore is with a North flaw fraid,
Shootes backe and in the blacke deepe hides: so sent against the ground
Was foyl'd Euryalus, his strength so hid in more profound
Deepes of Epeus, who tooke up th' intranc't Competitor—
About whom rusht a crowd of friends that through the clusters bore
His faltring knees, he spitting up thicke clods of bloud, his head
Totterd of one side, his sence gone. When (to a by-place led)
Thither they brought him the round cup. Pelides then set forth
Prise for a wrastling; to the best, a trivet that was worth
Twelve oxen, great and fit for fire; the conquer'd was t' obtaine
A woman excellent in workes, her beautie and her gaine
Prisde at foure oxen. Up he stood, and thus proclaim'd: ‘Arise,
You wrastlers that will prove for these.’ Out stept the ample sise
Of mightie Ajax, huge in strength, to him Laertes' sonne,
That craftie one, as huge in sleight. Their ceremonie done
Of making readie, forth they stept, catch elbowes with strong hands.
And as the beames of some high house cracke with a storme, yet stands
The house, being built by well-skild men: so crackt their backebones wrincht
With horrid twitches. In their sides, armes, shoulders (all bepincht)
Ran thicke the wals, red with the bloud ready to start out. Both
Long'd for the conquest and the prise, yet shewd no play, being loth
To lose both; nor could Ithacus stirre Ajax, nor could he
Hale downe Ulysses—being more strong than with mere strength to be
Hurl'd from all vantage of his sleight. Tir'd then with tugging play,
Great Ajax Telamonius said: ‘Thou wisest man, or lay
My face up or let me lay thine; let Jove take care for these.’
This said, he hoist him up to aire, when Laertiades
His wiles forgat not; Ajax' thigh he strooke behind, and flat
He on his backe fell, on his breast Ulysses. Wonderd at
Was this of all; all stood amaz'd. Then the much-suffering man
(Divine Ulysses) at next close the Telamonian
A litle raisde from earth, not quite, but with his knee implide
Lockt legs; and downe fell both on earth close by each other's side,
Both fil'd with dust. But, starting up, the third close they had made
Had not Achilles selfe stood up, restraining them, and bad:
‘No more tug one another thus, nor moyle your selves; receive
Prise equall; conquest crownes ye both; the lists to others leave.’
They heard and yeelded willingly, brusht off the dust, and on
Put other vests. Pelides then to those that swiftest runne
Proposde another prise—a boule beyond comparison
(Both for the sise and workmanship) past all the boules of earth;
It held sixe measures, silver all, but had his speciall worth
For workmanship, receiving forme from those ingenious men
Of Sidon. The Phœnicians made choise and brought it then
Along the greene sea, giving it to Thoas; by degrees
It came t' Euneus, Jason's sonne, who yong Priamides
(Lycaon) of Achilles' friend bought with it. And this, here,
Achilles made best game for him that best his feete could beare.
For second, he proposde an Oxe, a huge one and a fat;
And halfe a talent gold for last. These thus he set them at:
‘Rise, you that will assay for these.’ Forth stept Oiliades;
Ulysses answerd; and the third was one esteem'd past these
For footmanship, Antilochus. All rankt, Achilles show'd
The race-scope. From the start they glid; Oiliades bestow'd
His feete the swiftest; close to him flew god-like Ithacus.
And as a Ladie at her loome, being yong and beauteous,
Her silke-shittle close to her breast (with grace that doth inflame,
And her white hand) lifts quicke and oft in drawing from her frame
Her gentle thred, which she unwinds, with ever at her brest
Gracing her faire hand: so close still, and with such interest
In all men's likings, Ithacus unwound and spent the race
By him before; tooke out his steps, with putting in their place
Promptly and gracefully his owne; sprinkl'd the dust before,
And clouded with his breath his head. So facilie he bore
His royall person that he strooke shoutes from the Greekes with thirst
That he should conquer. Though he flew, yet—‘Come, come, O come first’—
Ever they cried to him; and this even his wise breast did move
To more desire of victorie. It made him pray and prove
Minerva's aide (his fautresse still): ‘O goddesse, heare,’ said he,
‘And to my feete stoope with thy helpe; now happie Fautresse be.’
She was, and light made all his lims; and now (both neare their crowne)
Minerva tript up Ajax' heeles, and headlong he fell downe
Amids the ordure of the beasts there negligently left
Since they were slaine there; and by this, Minerva's friend bereft
Oiliades of that rich bowle, and left his lips, nose, eyes,
Ruthfully smer'd. The fat oxe yet he seisd for second prise,
Held by the horne, spit out the taile, and thus spake, all besmear'd:
‘O villanous chance! This Ithacus so highly is indear'd
To his Minerva that her hand is ever in his deeds.
She like his mother nestles him—for from her it proceeds
(I know) that I am usde thus.’ This all in light laughter cast,
Amongst whom quicke Antilochus laught out his coming last
Thus wittily: ‘Know, all my friends, that all times past, and now,
The gods most honour most-liv'd men; Oiliades ye know
More old than I, but Ithacus is of the formost race,
First generation of men. Give the old man his grace;
They count him of the greene-hair'd eld; they may, or in his flowre—
For not our greatest flourisher can equall him in powre
Of foote-strife but Æacides.’ Thus sooth'd he Thetis' sonne,
Who thus accepted it: ‘Well, youth, your praises shall not runne
With unrewarded feete on mine. Your halfe a talent's prise
I'le make a whole one: take you, sir.’ He tooke, and joy'd. Then flies
Another game forth. Thetis' sonne set in the lists a lance,
A shield and helmet, being th' armes Sarpedon did advance
Against Patroclus, and he prisde. And thus he nam'd th' addresse:
‘Stand forth, two the most excellent, arm'd; and before all these
Give mutuall onset to the touch and wound of either's flesh;
Who first shall wound through other's armes, his blood appearing fresh,
Shall win this sword, silverd and hatcht; the blade is right of Thrace;
Asteropæus yeelded it. These armes shall part their grace
With either's valour, and the men I'le liberally feast
At my pavilion.’ To this game the first man that addrest
Was Ajax Telamonius; to him, king Diomed.
Both, in opposde parts of the preasse, full arm'd; both entered
The lists amids the multitude, put lookes on so austere,
And joyn'd so roughly, that amaze surprisde the Greeks in feare
Of either's mischiefe. Thrice they threw their fierce darts, and closde thrice.
Then Ajax strooke through Diomed's shield but did no prejudice;
His curets saft him. Diomed's dart still over shoulders flew,
Still mounting with the spirit it bore. And now rough Ajax grew
So violent that the Greeks cried: ‘Hold; no more; let them no more—
Give equall prise to either.’ Yet the sword, proposde before
For him did best, Achilles gave to Diomed. Then a stone,
(In fashion of a sphere) he show'd, of no invention,
But naturall, onely melted through with iron. Twas the boule
That king Eetion usde to hurle; but he, bereft of soule
By great Achilles, to the fleete with store of other prise
He brought it, and proposde it now, both for the exercise
And prise it selfe. He stood, and said: ‘Rise, you that will approve
Your arme's strengths now in this brave strife. His vigor that can move
This furthest needs no game but this; for, reach he nere so farre
With large fields of his owne in Greece (and so needs for his Carre,
His Plow or other tooles of thrift much iron) I'le able this
For five revolved yeares; no need shall use his messages
To any towne to furnish him; this onely boule shall yeeld
Iron enough for all affaires.’ This said, to trie this field
First Polypœtes issued; next Leonteus; third
Great Ajax; huge Epeus fourth. Yet he was first that stird
That myne of iron. Up it went, and up he tost it so
That laughter tooke up all the field. The next man that did throw
Was Leonteus; Ajax third, who gave it such a hand
That farre past both their markes it flew. But now twas to be mann'd
By Polypœtes: and as farre as at an Oxe that strayes
A herdsman can swing out his goade, so farre did he outraise
The stone past all men; all the field rose in a shout to see't.
About him flockt his friends, and bore the royall game to fleete.
For Archerie he then set forth ten axes, edg'd two waies,
And ten of one edge. On the shore, farre off, he causd to raise
A ship-mast, to whose top they tied a fearfull Dove by th' foote,
At which all shot—the game put thus: He that the Dove could shoote,
Nor touch the string that fastn'd her, the two-edg'd tooles should beare
All to the fleete. Who toucht the string and mist the Dove should share
The one-edg'd axes. This proposde, king Teucer's force arose,
And with him rose Meriones; and now lots must dispose
Their shooting first. Both which let fall into a helme of brasse,
First Teucer's came, and first he shot; and his crosse fortune was
To shoote the string, the Dove untoucht. Apollo did envie
His skill, since not to him he vow'd (being god of archerie)
A first-falne Lambe. The bitter shaft yet cut in two the cord,
That downe fell, and the Dove aloft up to the Welkin soar'd.
The Greeks gave shouts. Meriones first made a heartie vow
To sacrifice a first-falne Lambe to him that rules the Bow,
And then fell to his aime, his shaft being ready nockt before.
He spide her in the clouds, that here, there, every where did soare,
Yet at her height he reacht her side, strooke her quite through, and downe
The shaft fell at his feete; the Dove the mast againe did crowne.
There hung the head, and all her plumes were ruffl'd, she starke dead;
And there (farre off from him) she fell. The people wondered
And stood astonisht, th' Archer pleasd. Æacides then shewes
A long lance and a caldron, new, engrail'd with twentie hewes,
Prisde at an Oxe. These games were shew'd for men at darts. And then
Up rose the Generall of all, up rose the king of men,
Up rose late-crown'd Meriones. Achilles (seeing the king
Do him this grace), prevents more deed, his royall offering
Thus interrupting: ‘King of men, we well conceive how farre
Thy worth superiour is to all, how much most singular
Thy powre is, and thy skill in darts. Accept then this poore prise
Without contention, and (your will pleasde with what I advise)
Affoord Meriones the lance.’ The king was nothing slow
To that fit grace; Achilles then the brasse lance did bestow
On good Meriones. The king his present would not save,
But to renowm'd Talthybius the goodly Caldron gave.