A cauldron that had never felt the fire, Holding four measures, beautiful, and yet Untarnished. For the fourth, he offered gold, Two talents. For the fifth, and last, remained A double vessel never touched by fire. He rose and stood, and thus addressed the Greeks:⁠—

“Atrides, and ye other well-armed Greeks, These prizes lie within the chariot-course, And wait the charioteers. Were but these games In honor of another, then would I Contend, and win and carry to my tent The first among these prizes. For my steeds, Ye know, surpass the rest in speed, since they Are of immortal birth, by Neptune given To Peleus, and by him in turn bestowed On me his son. But I and they will keep Aloof; they miss their skilful charioteer, Who washed in limpid water from the fount Their manes, and moistened them with softening oil. And now they mourn their friend, and sadly stand With drooping heads and manes that touch the ground. Let such of you as trust in their swift steeds And their strong cars prepare to join the games.”