“On, on! Press onward with your utmost speed! Not that I bid you strive against the steeds Of warlike Diomed, for Pallas gives Swiftness to them and glory to the man Who holds the reins; but let us overtake The horses of Atrides, nor submit To be thus distanced, lest the victory Of the mare Aethè cover you with shame. Fleet as ye are, why linger? This at least I tell you, and my words will be fulfilled: Look not for kindly care at Nestor’s hands, That shepherd of the people, but for death With the sharp steel, if through your fault we take A meaner prize. Then onward and away, With all your strength, for this is my design⁠— To pass by Menelaus where the way Is narrow, and he cannot thwart my plan.”