“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 Æthe, 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: