He said, and rais’d Ulysses from the ground; Nor he his ancient craft remember’d not, But lock’d his leg around, and striking sharp Upon the hollow of the knee, the joint Gave way; the giant Ajax backwards fell, Ulysses on his breast; the people saw, And marvell’d. Then in turn Ulysses strove Ajax to lift; a little way he mov’d, But fail’d to lift him fairly from, the ground; Yet crook’d his knee, that both together fell, And side by side, defil’d with dust, they lay. And now a third encounter had they tried But rose Achilles, and the combat stay’d: “Forbear, nor waste your strength, in farther strife; Ye both are victors; both then bear away An equal meed of honour; and withdraw, That other Greeks may other contests wage.” Thus spoke Achilles: they his words obey’d, And brushing off the dust, their garments donn’d. The prizes of the runners, swift of foot, Achilles next set forth; a silver bowl, Six measures its content, for workmanship Unmatch’d on earth, of Sidon’s costliest art The product rare; thence o’er the misty sea Brought by Phoenicians, who, in port arriv’d, Gave it to Thoas; by Euneus last, The son of Jason, to Patroclus paid, In ransom of Lycaon, Priam’s son; Which now Achilles, on his friend’s behalf, Assign’d as his reward, whoe’er should prove The lightest foot, and speediest in the race. A steer, well fatten’d, was the second prize, And half a talent, for the third, of gold. He rose, and to the Greeks proclaim’d aloud, “Stand forth, whoe’er this contest will essay.” He said: uprose Oileus’ active son; Uprose Ulysses, skill’d in ev’ry wile, And noble Nestor’s son, Antilochus, Who all the youth in speed of foot surpass’d. They stood in line: Achilles pointed out The limits of the course; as from the goal They stretch’d them to the race, Oileus’ son First shot ahead; Ulysses following close; Nor farther than the shuttle from the breast Of some fair woman, when her outstretch’d arm Has thrown the woof athwart the warp, and back Withdraws it tow’rd her breast; so close behind Ulysses press’d on Ajax, and his feet Trod in his steps, ere settled yet the dust. His breath was on his shoulders, as the plain He lightly skimm’d; the Greeks with eager shouts Still cheering, as he strain’d to win the prize. But as they near’d the goal, Ulysses thus To blue-ey’d Pallas made his mental pray’r: “Now hear me, Goddess, and my feet befriend.” Thus as he pray’d, his pray’r the Goddess heard, And all his limbs with active vigour fill’d; And, as they stretch’d their hands to seize the prize, Tripp’d up by Pallas, Ajax slipp’d and fell, Amid the offal of the lowing kine Which o’er Patroclus Peleus’ son had slain. His mouth and nostrils were with offal fill’d. First in the race, Ulysses bore away The silver bowl; the steer to Ajax fell; And as upon the horn he laid his hand, Sputt’ring the offal out, he call’d aloud: “Lo, how the Goddess has my steps bewray’d, Who guards Ulysses with a mother’s care.”