Amidst that gathering Thetis sable-stoled Set down her prizes, and she summoned forth Achaea's champions: at her best they came.
But first amidst them all rose Neleus' son, Not as desiring in the strife of fists To toil, nor strain of wrestling; for his arms And all his sinews were with grievous eld Outworn, but still his heart and brain were strong.
Of all the Achaeans none could match himself Against him in the folkmote's war of words;
Yea, even Laertes' glorious son to him Ever gave place when men for speech were met;
Nor he alone, but even the kingliest Of Argives, Agamemnon, lord of spears.
Now in their midst he sang the gracious Queen Of Nereids, sang how she in willsomeness Of beauty was of all the Sea-maids chief.
Well-pleased she hearkened. Yet again he sang, Singing of Peleus' Bridal of Delight, Which all the blest Immortals brought to pass By Pelion's crests; sang of the ambrosial feast When the swift Hours brought in immortal hands Meats not of earth, and heaped in golden maunds;
Sang how the silver tables were set forth In haste by Themis blithely laughing; sang How breathed Hephaestus purest flame of fire;
Sang how the Nymphs in golden chalices Mingled ambrosia; sang the ravishing dance Twined by the Graces' feet; sang of the chant The Muses raised, and how its spell enthralled All mountains, rivers, all the forest brood;
How raptured was the infinite firmament, Cheiron's fair caverns, yea, the very Gods.
Such noble strain did Neleus' son pour out Into the Argives' eager ears; and they Hearkened with ravished souls. Then in their midst He sang once more the imperishable deeds Of princely Achilles. All the mighty throng Acclaimed him with delight. From that beginning With fitly chosen words did he extol The glorious hero; how he voyaged and smote Twelve cities; how he marched o'er leagues on leagues Of land, and spoiled eleven; how he slew Telephus and Eetion's might renowned In Thebe; how his spear laid Cyenus low, Poseidon's son, and godlike Polydorus, Troilus the goodly, princely Asteropaeus;
And how he dyed with blood the river-streams Of Xanthus, and with countless corpses choked His murmuring flow, when from the limbs he tore Lycaon's life beside the sounding river;
And how he smote down Hector; how he slew Penthesileia, and the godlike son Of splendour-throned Dawn; -- all this he sang To Argives which already knew the tale;
Sang of his giant mould, how no man's strength In fight could stand against him, nor in games Where strong men strive for mastery, where the swift Contend with flying feet or hurrying wheels Of chariots, nor in combat panoplied;
And how in goodlihead he far outshone All Danaans, and how his bodily might Was measureless in the stormy clash of war.
Last, he prayed Heaven that he might see a son Like that great sire from sea-washed Scyros come.
That noble song acclaiming Argives praised;
Yea, silver-looted Thetis smiled, and gave The singer fleetfoot horses, given of old Beside Caicus' mouth by Telephus To Achilles, when he healed the torturing wound With that same spear wherewith himself had pierced Telephus' thigh, and thrust the point clear through.
These Nestor Neleus' son to his comrades gave, And, glorying in their godlike lord, they led The steeds unto his ships. Then Thetis set Amidst the athlete-ring ten kine, to be Her prizes for the footrace, and by each Ran a fair suckling calf. These the bold might Of Peleus' tireless son had driven down From slopes of Ida, prizes of his spear.
To strive for these rose up two victory-fain, Teucer the first, the son of Telamon, And Aias, of the Locrian archers chief.
These twain with swift hands girded them about With loin-cloths, reverencing the Goddess-bride Of Peleus, and the Sea-maids, who with her Came to behold the Argives' athlete-sport.
And Atreus' son, lord of all Argive men, Showed them the turning-goal of that swift course.
Then these the Queen of Rivalry spurred on, As from the starting-line like falcons swift They sped away. Long doubtful was the race:
Now, as the Argives gazed, would Aias' friends Shout, now rang out the answering cheer from friends Of Teucer. But when in their eager speed Close on the end they were, then Teucer's feet Were trammelled by unearthly powers: some god Or demon dashed his foot against the stock Of a deep-rooted tamarisk. Sorely wrenched Was his left ankle: round the joint upswelled The veins high-ridged. A great shout rang from all That watched the contest. Aias darted past Exultant: ran his Locrian folk to hail Their lord, with sudden joy in all their souls.
Then to his ships they drave the kine, and cast Fodder before them. Eager-helpful friends Led Teucer halting thence. The leeches drew Blood from his foot: then over it they laid Soft-shredded linen ointment-smeared, and swathed With smooth bands round, and charmed away the pain.
Then swiftly rose two mighty-hearted ones Eager to match their strength in wrestling strain, The son of Tydeus and the giant Aias.
Into the midst they strode, and marvelling gazed The Argives on men shapen like to gods.
Then grappled they, like lions famine-stung Fighting amidst the mountains o'er a stag, Whose strength is even-balanced; no whit less Is one than other in their deadly rage;
So these long time in might were even-matched, Till Aias locked his strong hands round the son Of Tydeus, straining hard to break his back;
But he, with wrestling-craft and strength combined, Shifted his hip 'neath Telamon's son, and heaved The giant up; with a side-twist wrenched free From Aias' ankle-lock his thigh, and so With one huge shoulder-heave to earth he threw That mighty champion, and himself came down Astride him: then a mighty shout went up.
But battle-stormer Aias, chafed in mind, Sprang up, hot-eager to essay again That grim encounter. From his terrible hands He dashed the dust, and challenged furiously With a great voice Tydeides: not a whit That other quailed, but rushed to close with him.
Rolled up the dust in clouds from 'neath their feet:
