Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/415

410—458 While thy strict hand his fellow's head restrains,

And turns him short; till, doubling as they roll,

The wheel's round naves appear to brush the goal;

Yet, not to break the car, or lame the horse,

Clear of the stony heap direct the course;

Lest, through incaution failing, thou mayest be

A joy to others, a reproach to me.

So shalt thou pass the goal, secure of mind,

And leave unskilful swiftness far behind,

Though thy fierce rival drove the matchless steed

Which bore Adrastus, of celestial breed;

Or the famed race through all the regions known,

That whirled the car of proud Laomedon."

Thus, nought unsaid, the much-advising sage

Concludes; then sat, stiff with unwieldy age.

Next bold Meriones was seen to rise,

The last, but not least ardent for the prize.

They mount their seats; the lots their place dispose;

Rolled in his helmet, these Achilles throws;

Young Nestor leads the race; Eumelus then;

And next, the brother of the king of men:

Thy lot, Meriones, the fourth was cast;

And, far the bravest, Diomed, was last.

They stand in order, an impatient train,

Pelides points the barrier on the plain,

And sends before old Phoenix to the place,

To mark the racers, and to judge the race.

At once the coursers from the barrier bound;

The lifted scourges all at once resound;

Their heart, their eyes, their voice, they send before;

And up the champaign thunder from the shore:

Thick, where they drive, the dusty clouds arise,

And the lost courser in the whirlwind flies;

Loose on their shoulders the long manes reclined,

Float in their speed, and dance upon the wind:

The smoking chariots, rapid as they bound,

Now seem to touch the sky, and now the ground;

While hot for fame, and conquest all their care,

Each o'er his flying courser hung in air,

Erect with ardour, poised upon the rein,

They pant, they stretch, they shout along the plain.

Now, the last compass fetched around the goal,

At the near prize each gathers all his soul,

Each burns with double hope, with double pain

Tears up the shore, and thunders toward the main.

First flew Eumelus on Pheretian steeds;

With those of Tros, bold Diomed succeeds:

Close on Eumelus' back they puff the wind,

And seem just mounting on his car behind;