“The ablest horseman brings his steeds the last, But let us, as is just, confer on him The second prize; Tydides takes the first.”
He spake, and all approved his words; and now The mare, to please the Greeks, had been bestowed Upon Eumelus, if Antilochus, Son of magnanimous Nestor, had not risen To plead for justice with Achilles thus:—
“Achilles, I shall deem it grave offence If thou fulfil thy word; for thou wilt take My prize, because thou seest that this man’s car And his fleet steeds have suffered injury, Though he be skilful. Yet he should have prayed To the good gods; then had he not been seen Bringing his steeds the last. But if thou feel Compassion for him, and if so thou please, Large store of brass and gold is in thy tent, And thine are cattle, and handmaidens thine, And firm-paced steeds; hereafter give of these A nobler largess, or bestow it now, And hear the Greeks applaud thee. But this prize I yield not; let the warrior who may claim To take it try with me his strength of arm.”
He ceased: the noble son of Peleus smiled, And, pleased to see Antilochus succeed— For he was a beloved friend—he spake These wingèd words: “Since, then, Antilochus, Thou wilt that I bestow some recompense Upon Eumelus from my store, I give The brazen corselet which my arm in war Took from Asteropaeus, edged around With shining tin—a gift of no mean price.”
He ceased, and sent his friend Automedon To bring it from the tent. He went and brought The corselet, and Eumelus joyfully Received it from Achilles. Then arose, Among them Menelaus, ill at ease, And angry with Antilochus. He took The sceptre from a herald’s hand, who hushed The crowd to silence, and the hero spake:—
“Antilochus, who wert till now discreet, What hast thou done? Thou hast disgraced my skill And wronged my steeds by thrusting in thine