by Virgil
And learning with his broken oars a little way to gain.
Then Gyas and Chimæra’s bulk he holdeth hard in chase,
Who, from her lack of helmsman lost, must presently give place.
And now at very end of all Cloanthus is the last
With whom to deal: his most he strives, and presseth on him fast.
Then verily shout thrusts on shout, and all with all goodwill
Cry on the chase; their echoing noise the very lift doth fill.
These, thinking shame of letting fall their hardly-gotten gain
Of glory’s meed, to buy the praise with very life are fain;
Those, fed on good-hap, all things may, because they deem they may:
The twain, perchance, head laid to head, had won the prize that day,
But if Cloanthus both his palms had stretched to seaward there,
And called upon the Gods to aid and poured forth eager prayer:
“O Gods, whose lordship is the sea, whose waters I run o’er,
Now glad will I, your debtor bound, by altars on the shore
Bring forth for you a snow-white bull, and cast amid the brine
His inner meat, and pour abroad a flowing of fair wine.”
He spake, and all the Nereids’ choir hearkened the words he said
Down ‘neath the waves, and Phorcus’ folk, and Panopea the maid;
Yea, and the sire Portunus thrust the keel with mighty hand
Upon its way, and arrow-swift it flew on toward the land,
Swift as the South, and there at rest in haven deep it lies.
But now Anchises’ seed, all men being summoned in due wise,
Proclaims Cloanthus victor there by loud-voiced herald’s shout,
And with green garland of the bay he does his brows about;
Then biddeth them to choose the gifts, for every ship three steers,
And wine, and every crew therewith great weight of silver bears.
And glorious gifts he adds withal to every duke of man:
A gold-wrought cloak the victor hath, about whose rim there ran
A plenteous double wavy stream of Meliboean shell,
And leafy Ida’s kingly boy thereon was pictured well.
A-following up the fleeing hart with spear and running fleet;
Eager he seemed as one who pants; then him with hookèd feet
Jove’s shield-bearer hath caught, and up with him from Ida flies,
And there the ancient masters stretch vain palms unto the skies,
While bark of staring hunting-hound beats fierce at upper air.
Then next for him who second place of might and valour bare
A mail-coat wove of polished rings with threefold wire of gold,
Which from Demoleos the King had stripped in days of old,
A conqueror then by Simoïs swift beneath high-builded Troy,
He giveth now that lord to have a safeguard and a joy;
Its many folds his serving-men, Phegeus and Sagaris,
Scarce bore on toiling shoulders joined, yet clad in nought but this
Swift ran Demoleos following on the Trojans disarrayed.
A third gift then he setteth forth, twin cauldrons brazen made,
And silver bowls with picturing fret and wrought with utter pain.
And now when all had gotten gifts, and glorying in their gain,
Were wending with the filleting of purple round the brow,
Lo, gotten from the cruel rock with craft and toil enow,
With missing oars, and all one board unhandy and foredone,
His ship inglorious and bemocked, Sergestus driveth on.
— As with an adder oft it haps caught on the highway’s crown,
Aslant by brazen tire of wheel, or heavy pebble thrown
By wayfarer, hath left him torn and nigh unto his end:
Who writhings wrought for helpless flight through all his length doth send,
And one half fierce with burning eyes uprears a hissing crest,
The other half, with wounds all halt, still holding back the rest;
He knitteth him in many a knot and on himself doth slip.
— E’en such the crawling of the oars that drave the tarrying ship.
But they hoist sail on her, and so the harbour-mouth make shift
To win: and there Æneas gives Sergestus promised gift,
Blithe at his saving of the ship, and fellows brought aback:
A maid he hath, who not a whit of Pallas’ art doth lack.
Of Crete she is, and Pholoë called, and twins at breast she bears.
Now all that strife being overpast, the good Æneas fares
To grassy meads girt all about by hollow wooded hills,
Where theatre-wise the racing-course the midmost valley fills.
Thereto the hero, very heart of many a thousand men,
Now wendeth, and on seat high-piled he sits him down again.
There whosoever may have will to strive in speedy race
He hearteneth on with hope of gift, and shows the prize and grace.
So from all sides Sicilians throng, and Trojan fellowship.
Euryalus and Nisus first.
Euryalus for goodliness and youth’s first blossom famed,
Nisus for fair love of the youth; then after these are named
Diores, of the blood of kings from Priam’s glorious race;
Salius and Patron next; the one of Acarnanian place,
The other from Arcadian blood of Tegeæa outsprung:
Then two Trinacrians, Helymus and Panopes the young,
In woodcraft skilled, who ever went by old Acestes’ side;
And many others else there were whom rumour dimmed doth hide.
And now amidmost of all these suchwise Æneas spake:
“Now hearken; let your merry hearts heed of my saying take:
No man of all the tale of you shall henceforth giftless go;
Two Gnosian spears to each I give with polished steel aglow,
An axe to carry in the war with silver wrought therein.
This honour is for one and all: the three first prize shall win,
And round about their heads shall do the olive dusky-grey.
A noble horse with trappings dight the first shall bear away;
A quiver of the Amazons with Thracian arrows stored
The second hath; about it goes a gold belt broidered broad,
With gem-wrought buckle delicate to clasp it at the end.
But gladdened with this Argive helm content the third shall wend.”
All said, they take their places due, and when the sign they hear,
Forthwith they leave the bar behind and o’er the course they bear,
Like drift of storm-cloud; on the goal all set their eager eyes:
But far before all shapes of man shows Nisus, and outflies
The very whistling of the winds or lightning on the wing.
Then, though the space be long betwixt, comes Salius following;
And after Salius again another space is left,
And then Euryalus is third;
And after him is Helymus: but lo, how hard on heel
Diores scuds! foot on his foot doth Helymus nigh feel,
Shoulder on shoulder: yea, and if the course held longer out,
He would slip by him and be first, or leave the thing in doubt.
Now, spent, unto the utmost reach and very end of all
They came, when in the slippery blood doth luckless Nisus fall,
E’en where the ground was all a-slop with bullocks slain that day,
And all the topmost of the grass be-puddled with it lay:
There, as he went the victor now, exulting, failed his feet
From off the earth, and forth he fell face foremost down to meet
The midst of all the filthy slime blent with the holy gore:
Yet for Euryalus his love forgat he none the more,
For rising from the slippery place in Saliu
s’ way he thrust,
Who, rolling over, lay along amid the thickened dust.
Forth flies Euryalus, and flies to fame and foremost place,
His own friend’s gift, mid beat of hands and shouts that bear him grace.
Next came in Helymus, and next the palm Diores bore.
But over all the concourse set in hollow dale, and o’er
The heads of those first father-lords goes Salius’ clamouring speech,
Who for his glory reft away by guile doth still beseech.
But safe goodwill and goodly tears Euryalus do bear,
And lovelier seemeth valour set in body wrought so fair.
Him too Diores backeth now, and crieth out on high,
Whose palm of praise and third-won place shall fail and pass him by,
If the first glory once again at Salius’ bidding shift.
Then sayeth Father Æneas: “O fellows, every gift
Shall bide unmoved: the palm of praise shall no man now displace.
Yet for my sackless friend’s mishap give me some pity’s grace.”
He spake, and unto Salius gave a mighty lion’s hide,
Getulian born, with weight of hair and golden claws beside:
Then Nisus spake: “If such great gifts are toward for beaten men,
And thou must pity those that fall, what gift is worthy then
Of Nisus? I, who should have gained the very victory’s crown,
If me, as Salius, Fate my foe had never overthrown.”
And even as he speaks the word he showeth face and limb
Foul with the mud. The kindest lord, the Father, laughed on him,
And bade them bring a buckler forth, wrought of Didymaon,
Spoil of the Greeks, from Neptune’s house and holy doors undone;
And there unto the noble youth he gives that noble thing.
But now, the race all overpassed and all the gift-giving,
Quoth he: “If any valour hath, or heart that may withstand,
Let him come forth to raise his arm with hide-begirded hand.”
So saying, for the fight to come he sets forth glories twain;
A steer gilt-horned and garlanded the conquering man should gain,
A sword and noble helm should stay the vanquished in his woe.
No tarrying was there: Dares straight his face to all doth show,
And riseth in his mighty strength amidst the murmur great:
He who alone of all men erst with Paris held debate,
And he who at the mound wherein that mightiest Hector lay,
Had smitten Butes’ body huge, the winner of the day,
Who called him come of Amycus and that Bebrycian land:
But Dares stretched him dying there upon the yellow sand.
Such was the Dares that upreared his head against the fight,
And showed his shoulders’ breadth and drave his fists to left and right,
With arms cast forth, as heavy strokes he laid upon the air.
But when they sought a man for him, midst all the concourse there
Was none durst meet him: not a hand the fighting-glove would don:
Wherefore, high-hearted, deeming now the prize from all was won,
He stood before Æneas’ feet nor longer tarrièd,
But with his left hand took the steer about the horn and said:
“O Goddess-born, if no man dares to trust him in the play,
What end shall be of standing here; must I abide all day?
Bid them bring forth the gifts.”
Therewith they cried out one and all,
The Dardan folk, to give the gifts that due to him did fall.
But with hard words Acestes now Entellus falls to chide,
As on the bank of grassy green they sat there side by side,
“Entellus, bravest hero once of all men, and for nought,
If thou wilt let them bear away without a battle fought
Such gifts as these. And where is he, thy master then, that God,
That Eryx, told of oft in vain? where is thy fame sown broad
Through all Trinacria, where the spoils hung up beneath thy roof?”
“Nay,” said he, “neither love of fame nor glory holds aloof
Beaten by fear, but cold I grow with eld that holdeth back.
My blood is dull, my might gone dry with all my body’s lack.
Ah, had I that which once I had, that which the rascal there
Trusts in with idle triumphing, the days of youth the dear,
Then had I come into the fight by no gift-giving led,
No goodly steer: nought heed I gifts.”
And with the last word said,
His fighting gloves of fearful weight amidst of them he cast,
Wherewith the eager Eryx’ hands amid the play had passed
Full oft; with hardened hide of them his arms he used to bind.
Men’s hearts were mazed; such seven bull-hides each other in them lined,
So stiff they were with lead sewn in and iron laid thereby;
And chief of all was Dares mazed, and drew back utterly.
But the great-souled Anchises’ seed that weight of gauntlets weighed,
And here and there he turned about their mighty folds o’erlaid.
Then drew the elder from his breast words that were like to these:
“Ah, had ye seen the gloves that armed the very Hercules,
And that sad battle foughten out upon this country shore!
For these are arms indeed that erst thy kinsmen Eryx bore:
Lo, ye may see them even now flecked with the blood and brain.
With these Alcides he withstood; with these I too was fain
Of war, while mightier blood gave might, nor envious eld as yet
On either temple of my head the hoary hairs had set.
But if this Dares out of Troy refuse our weapons still,
And good Æneas doom it so, and so Acestes will,
My fight-lord; make the weapons like: these gloves of Eryx here
I take aback: be not afraid, but doff thy Trojan gear.”
He spake, and from his back he cast his twifold cloak adown,
And naked his most mighty limbs and shoulders huge were shown,
And on the midmost of the sand a giant there he stood.
Wherewith Anchises’ seed brought forth gloves even-matched and good,
And so at last with gear alike the arms of each he bound,
Then straightway each one stretched aloft on tip-toe from the ground:
They cast their mighty arms abroad, nor any fear they know,
The while their lofty heads they draw abackward from the blow:
And so they mingle hands with hands and fall to wake the fight.
The one a-trusting in his youth and nimbler feet and light;
The other’s bulk of all avail, but, trembling, ever shrank
His heavy knees, and breathing short for ever shook his flank.
Full many a stroke those mighty men cast each at each in vain;
Thick fall they on the hollow sides; the breasts ring out again
With mighty sound; and eager-swift the hands full often stray
Round ears and temples; crack the jaws beneath that heavy play:
In one set strain, not moving aught, heavy Entellus stands,
By body’s sway and watchful eye shunning the dart of hands:
But Dares is as one who brings the gin ‘gainst high-built town,
Or round about some mountain-hold the leaguer setteth down:
Now here now there he falleth on, and putteth art to pain
At every place, and holds them strait with onset all in vain.
Entellus, rising to the work, his right hand now doth show
Upreared; but he, the nimble one, foresaw the falling blow
Above him, and his body swift writhed skew-wise from the fall.
Entellus spends his stroke on air, and, overborne withal,
A heavy
thing, falls heavily to earth, a mighty weight:
As whiles a hollow-eaten pine on Erymanthus great,
Or mighty Ida, rooted up, to earthward toppling goes.
Then Teucrian and Trinacrian folk with wondrous longing rose,
And shouts went skyward: thither first the King Acestes ran,
And pitying his like-aged friend raised up the fallen man;
Who neither slackened by his fall, nor smit by any fear,
Gets back the eagerer to the fight, for anger strength doth stir,
And shame and conscious valour lights his ancient power again.
In headlong flight his fiery wrath drives Dares o’er the plain,
And whiles his right hand showereth strokes, his left hand raineth whiles.
No tarrying and no rest there is; as hail-storm on the tiles
Rattleth, so swift with either hand the eager hero now
Beats on and batters Dares down, and blow is laid on blow.
But now the Father Æneas no longer might abide
Entellus’ bitter rage of soul or lengthening anger’s tide,
But laid an end upon the fight therewith, and caught away
Dares foredone, and soothing words in such wise did he say:
“Unhappy man, what madness then hath hold upon thine heart?
Feel’st not another might than man’s, and Heaven upon his part?
Yield to the Gods!”
So ‘neath his word the battle sank to peace.
But Dares his true fellows took, trailing his feeble knees,
Lolling his head from side to side, the while his sick mouth sent
The clotted blood from out of it wherewith the teeth were blent.
They lead him to the ships; then, called, they take the helm and sword,
But leave Entellus’ bull and palm, the victory’s due reward;
Who, high of heart, proud in the beast his conquering hand did earn,
“O Goddess-born,” he said, “and ye, O Teucrians, look, and learn
What might was in my body once, ere youth it had to lack,
And what the death whence Dares saved e’en now ye draw aback.”
He spake, and at the great bull’s head straightway he took his stand,
As there it bode the prize of fight, and drawing back his hand
Rose to the blow, and ‘twixt the horns sent forth the hardened glove,
And back upon his very brain the shattered skull he drove.
Down fell the beast and on the earth lay quivering, outstretched, dead,
While over him from his inmost breast such words Entellus said:
“Eryx, this soul, a better thing, for Dares doomed to die,
