Thus as he spoke, loud laugh’d the merry Greeks. Antilochus the sole remaining prize Receiv’d, and, laughing, thus the Greeks address’d: “I tell you, friends, but what yourselves do know, How of the elder men th’ immortal Gods Take special care; for Ajax’ years not much Exceed mine own; but here we see a man, One of a former age, and race of men; A hale old man we call him; but for speed Not one can match him, save Achilles’ self.” Thus he, with praise implied of Peleus’ son; To whom in answer thus Achilles spoke: “Antilochus, not unobserv’d of me Nor unrewarded shall thy praise remain: To thy half talent add this second half.” Thus saying, in his hand he plac’d the gold; Antilochus with joy the gift receiv’d. Next, in the ring the son of Peleus laid A pond’rous spear, a helmet, and a shield, The spoil Patroclus from Sarpedon won; Then rose, and loudly to the Greeks proclaim’d: “For these we call upon two champions brave To don their arms, their sharp-edg’d weapons grasp, And public trial of their prowess make; And he who first his rival’s flesh shall reach, And, through his armour piercing, first draw blood, He shall this silver-studded sword receive, My trophy from Asteropaeus won, Well-wrought, of Thracian metal; but the arms In common property they both shall hold, And in my tent a noble banquet share.” He said; uprose great Ajax Telamon, And Tydeus’ son, the valiant Diomed. First, from the crowd apart, they donn’d their arms; Then, eager for the fight, with haughty stare Stood in the midst; the Greeks admiring gaz’d. When, each approaching other, near they came, Thrice rush’d they on, and thrice in combat clos’d. Then through the buckler round of Diomed Great Ajax drove his spear; nor reach’d the point Tydides’ body, by the breastplate stay’d: While, aim’d above the mighty shield’s defence, His glitt’ring weapon flash’d at Ajax’ throat. For Ajax fearing, shouted then the Greeks To cease the fight, and share alike the prize; But from Achilles’ hand the mighty sword, With belt and scabbard, Diomed receiv’d. Next in the ring the son of Peleus plac’d A pond’rous mass of iron, as a quoit Once wielded by Eetion’s giant strength, But to the ships with other trophies borne, When by Achilles’ hand Eetion fell. Then rose, and loudly to the Greeks proclaim’d: “Stand forth, whoe’er this contest will essay. This prize who wins, though widely may extend His fertile fields, for five revolving years It will his wants supply; nor to the town For lack of iron, with this mass in store, Need he his shepherd or his ploughman send.”