Page:Homer - Iliad, translation Pope, 1909.djvu/421

704—752 The fifth reward, the double bowl, remained.

Achilles this to reverend Nestor bears,

And thus the purpose of his gift declares:

"Accept thou this, O sacred sire," he said,

"In dear memorial of Patroclus dead;

Dead, and for ever lost, Patroclus lies,

For ever snatched from our desiring eyes!

Take thou this token of a grateful heart:

Though 'tis not thine to hurl the distant dart,

The quoit to toss, the ponderous 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 proved

A senior honoured and a friend beloved!

Too true it is, deserted of my strength,

These withered arms and limbs have failed at length.

Oh! had I now that force I felt of yore,

Known through Buprasium and the Pylian shore!

Victorious then in every solemn game,

Ordained to Amarynces' mighty name;

The brave Epeians gave my glory way,

Ætolians, Pylians, all resigned the day.

I quelled Clytomedes in fights of hand, And backward hurled Ancseus on the sand, Surpassed Iphiclus in the swift career, Phyleus and Polydorus, with the spear: The sons of Actor won the prize of horse, But won by numbers, nor by art or force: For the famed twins, impatient to survey Prize after prize by Nestor borne away, Sprung to their car; and with united pains One lashed the coursers, while one ruled the reins. Such once I was! Now to these tasks succeeds A younger race, that emulate our deeds: I yield—alas! to age who must not yield?— Though once the foremost hero of the field. Go thou, my son! by generous friendship led, With martial honours decorate the dead; While pleased I take the gift thy hands present, Pledge of benevolence, and kind intent; Rejoiced, of all the numerous Greeks, to see Not one but honours sacred age and me: Those due distinctions thou so well canst pay May the just gods return another day. Proud of the gift, thus spake the Full of Days: Achilles heard him, prouder of the praise.