Antilochus, the son of Nestor, known As swiftest of the youths. In due array They stood; Achilles showed the goal. At once Forward they sprang. Oilean Ajax soon Gained on the rest, but close behind him ran The great Ulysses. As a shapely maid Flinging the shuttle draws with careful hand The thread that fills the warp, and so brings near The shuttle to her bosom, just so near To Ajax ran Ulysses, in the prints Made by his rival’s feet, before the dust Fell back upon them. As he ran, his breath Smote on the head of Ajax. All the Greeks Shouted applause to him, encouraging His ardor for the victory; but when now They neared the goal, Ulysses silently Prayed thus to Pallas: “Goddess, hear my prayer, And help these feet to win.” The goddess heard, And lightened all his limbs, his feet, his hands; And just as they were rushing on the prize, Ajax, in running, slipped and fell⁠—the work Of Pallas⁠—where in heaps the refuse lay From entrails of the bellowing oxen slain In honor of Patroclus by the hand