But when they turned their course, and swiftly ran Back to the hoary deep to close the course, Well did the skill of every chief appear. They put their horses to the utmost speed, And then did the quick-footed steeds that drew Eumelus bear him on beyond the rest. But with his Trojan coursers Diomed Came next, so near it seemed that they would mount The car before them, and upon the back. And ample shoulders of Eumelus smote Their steaming breath; for as they ran their heads Leaned over him. And then would Diomed Have passed him by, or would at least have made The victory doubtful, had not Phoebus struck, In his displeasure, from the hero’s hand The shining scourge. It fell, and to his eyes Started indignant tears; for now he saw The others gaining on him, while the speed Of his own steeds, which feared the lash no more, Was slackened. Yet Apollo’s stratagem Was not unseen by Pallas, who o’ertook The shepherd of the people, and restored The scourge he dropped, and put into his steeds New spirit. In her anger she approached Eumelus, snapped his yoke, and caused his mares To start asunder from the track; the pole Was dashed into the ground, and from the seat The chief was flung beside the wheel, his mouth, Elbows, and nostrils torn, his forehead bruised. Grief filled his eyes with tears and choked his voice, While Diomed drave by his firm-paced steeds, Outstripping all the rest; for Pallas nerved Their limbs with vigor, and bestowed on him Abundant glory. After him the son Of Atreus, fair-haired Menelaus, came, While Nestor’s son cheered on his father’s steeds:⁠—

“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.”