Far-travelling Rumour glides through the Danaan cities, 
	and tells that the Inachidae are ordaining sacred rites for the new tomb, 
	and games thereto, whereby their martial valour 
	may be kindled and have foretaste of the sweat of war. 
5	Customary among the Greeks is such a festival: first1 did the dutiful 
	Alcides contest this honour with Pelops in the fields of Pisa, 
	and brush the dust of combat from his hair with the wild-olive spray; 
	next is celebrated the freeing of Phocis from the 
	serpent’s coils, the battle of the boy Apollo’s quiver; 
10	then the dark cult of Palaemon is solemnized about the 
	gloomy altars, so oft as undaunted Leucothea renews 
	her grief, and in the time of festival comes to the 
	welcoming shores: from end to end Isthmos resounds 
	with lamentation and Echionian Thebes makes answering wail. 
15	And now the peerless princes whose rearing links Argos 
	with heaven, princes whose mighty names the 
	Aonian2 land and Tyrian mothers, utter with sighs, 
	meet in rivalry and arouse their naked vigour to the fray: 
	just as the two-banked galleys that must venture the unknown deep, 
20	whether they provoke the stormy Tyrrhenian or the calm 
	Aegean sea, first prove on a smooth lake their tackling and rudder 
	and nimble oars, and learn to face the real perils; 
	but when their crews are trained, then confidently do they push 
	further out into the main nor seek the vanished coast.
	
25	The bright consort of Tithonus had shown in heaven 
	her toil-bringing car, and Night and Sleep with empty horn3 
	were fleeing from the pale goddess’ wakeful reins; 
	already the ways are loud with wailing, and the palace with fearful 
	lamentation; from afar the wild forests catch the sounds, and scatter them 
30	in a thousand echoes. The father himself4 sits stripped 
	of the honour of the twined fillet, his unkempt head 
	and neglected beard sprinkled with dust of mourning. 
	More violent than he and passionate with more than a man’s grief, 
	the bereaved mother urges on her handmaidens by example and by speech, 
35	willing though they be, and yearns to cast herself upon the mangled remains 
	of her child, and as oft they tear her from them and bring her back. 
	Even the father too restrains her. Soon when the Inachian princes 
	with royal bearing entered the sorrowing portals, then, 
	as though the stroke were fresh and the babe but newly 
40	hurt, or the deadly serpent had burst into the palace, 
	they smite their breasts though wearied and raise clamour 
	upon clamour, and the doors re-echo with the new-kindled 
	wailing; the Pelasgians feel their ill-will 
	and plead their innocence with streaming tears.
	
45	Adrastus himself, whenso’er the tumult was quelled 
	and the distracted house fell silent, and opportunity was given, 
	addressed the sire unbidden with consoling words, reviewing now 
	the cruel destiny of mankind and the inexorable thread of doom, 
	now giving hope of other offspring and pledges that by heaven’s favour 
50	would endure. But he had not ended, when mourning broke forth anew. 
	Nor does the king more gently hear his friendly speech 
	than the madness of the fierce Ionian hears the sailors shouting prayers 
	upon the deep, or the wayward lightning heed the frail clouds.
	
	Meanwhile the flame-appointed pyre and the infant bier 
55	are intertwined with bloomy boughs and shoots of 
	cypress; lowest of all is laid the green produce o the country-side, 
	then a space is more laboriously wrought with grassy chaplets 
	and the mound is decked with flowers that soon must perish; 
	third in order rises a heap of Arabian spices and the rich 
60	profusion of the East, with lumps of hoary incense 
	and cinnamon that has come down from Belus of old.5 
	On the summit is set tinkling gold, and a soft coverlet of Tyrian purple 
	is raised high, gleaming everywhere with polished gems, 
	and within a border of acanthus is Linus woven and the hounds 
65	that caused his death6: hateful ever to his mother was 
	the marvellous work, and ever did she turn her yes from the omen. 
	Arms, too, and spoils of ancestors of old are cast about the pyre, 
	the pride and chequered glory of the afflicted house, 
	as though the funeral train bore thither the burden of some great 
70	warrior’s limbs; yet even empty and barren fame delights 
	the mourners, and the pomp magnifies the infant shade. 
	Wherefore tears are held in high reverence and afford a mournful joy, 
	and gifts greater than his years are brought to feed the flames. 
	For his father,7 in haste for the fulfilment of his prayers had set apart 
75	for him quivers and tiny javelins and innocent arrows, 
	and even already in his name was rearing proved horses 
	of his stable’s famous breed; loud-ringing belts8 too 
	are brought, and armour waiting for a mightier frame. 
	Insatiable hopes! what garments did she not make for him 
80	in eager haste, credulous woman, and robes of purple, 
	emblems of royalty, and childish sceptre? Yet all does the sire himself 
	ruthlessly condemn to the murky flames, and bid his own signs of rank 
	be borne withal, if by their loss he may sate his devouring grief.
	
	In another region the army hastens at the bidding of the 
85	wise augur to raise an airy pile, high as a mountain, 
	of tree-trunks and shattered forests, to dark 
	burnt-offering for the ill-omened war. 
	These labour to cut down Nemea and its shady glens and hurl them 
	to the ground, and to lay the forests open to the sunlight. 
90	Straightway a wood that axe has never shorn of its ancient 
	boughs is felled, a wood than which none more rich in abundant shade 
	between the vales of Argolis and Mount Lycaeus ever raised aloft 
	its head above the stars; in reverend sanctity of eld it stands, 
	and is said not only to reach back in years beyond the 
95	grandsires of men, but o have seen Nymphs pass9 and 
	flocking Fauns and yet be living. Upon the wood came pitiful 
	destruction: the beasts are fled, and the birds, terror-driven, 
	flutter forth from their warm nests; the towering beeches fall 
	and the Chaonian10 groves and the cypress that the winter harms not, 
100	spruces are flung prostrate that feed the funeral flames, 
	ash-trees and trunks of holm-oak and yews with poisonous sap. 
	And mountain ashes destined to drink the gore 
	of cursed battle,11 and oaks unconquerable by age. 
	Then the daring12 fir is cloven, and the pine with fragrant wound, 
105	alders that love the sea bow to the ground their unshorn summits, 
	and elms that give friendly shade to the vines. 
	The earth groans: not so are the woods of Ismarus swept away 
	uprooted, when Boreas breaks his prison cave and rears his head, 
	no swifter does the nightly flame tear through the forest before the 
110	south wind’s onset; hoar Pales and Silvanus,13 lord of the shady glen, 
	and the folk, half-god, half-animal, go forth weeping from the leisure haunts 
	they loved, and as they go the woodland groans in sympathy, 
	nor can the Nymphs loose the trees from their embrace.14 
	As when a leader gives over to the greedy conquerors the 
115	captured towers to plunder, scarce is the signal heard, 
	and the city is nowhere to be found; they drive and carry, take captive 
	and strike down in fury unrestrained: the din of battle was less loud.
	
	Two altars now of equal height had they with like toil erected, 
	one to the doleful shades, the other to the gods above, 
120	when the low braying of the pipe with curved horn gave signal 
	for lament, the pipe that by Phrygia’s mournful use was wont to escort 
	the youthful dead. They say that Pelops ordained 
	for infant shade this funeral rite and chant, 
	to which Niobe, undone by the quivers twain, and dressed 
125	in mourning garb, brought the twelve urns to Sipylus.15
	
	The Grecian leaders bear the funeral gifts and offerings 
	for the flame, each by his titles witnessing to his race’s 
	honourable renown; long after, high upon the necks of youths 
	chosen by the prince from all his host, amid wild clamour 
130	comes the bier. The Lernaean chieftains encircle 
	Lycurgus, a female company are gathered about the 
	queen, nor does Hypsipyle go unattended: the Inachidae,16 
	not unmindful, surround her close, her sons support her 
	bruised arms, and suffer their new-found mother to lament.
	
135	There, as soon as Eurydice came forth from her ill-starred 
	palace, she bared her breast and cried aloud, and with beating 
	of her bosom and prelude of long wailings thus began: 
	“I never thought, my son, to follow thee with this 
	encompassing train of Argive matrons, nor thus did I 
140	picture in my foolish prayers thy infant years, 
	nought cruel did I expect; whence at my life’s end should 
	I have fear for thee from a Theban war, whereof I knew not? 
	What god has taken delight in joining battle with our race? 
	Who vowed this crime against our arms? But thy house, 
145	O Cadmus, has not suffered yet, no infant do Tyrian crowds lament. 
	‘Tis I that have borne the first-fruits of grief and untimely death, 
	before even trumpets brayed or sword was drawn, while in indolent neglect 
	I put faith in his nurse’s bosom and entrusted to her my babe to suckle. 
	Why should I not? She told a tale of cunning rescue of her sire 
150	and her innocence. But look! this woman, who alone, 
	we must think, abjured the deadly deed she vowed, and alone of her race 
	was free from the Lemnian madness, this woman here – and ye believe her, 
	after her daring deed! – so strong in her devotion, cast away in desolate fields, 
	no king or lord, but , impious one! another's child, that is all! 
155	and left him on a path in an ill-famed wood, 
	where not merely poisonous snake – what need, alas, of so huge 
	a slayer? – but a strong tempest only, or a bough 
	broken by the wind, or groundless fright could have availed to cause 
	his death! Nor you would I accuse in my stricken grief; 
160	unalterable and sure came this curse upon the mother, 
	at his nurse’s hands. Yet her didst thou favour more, 
	my son, her only didst thou know and heard when she called thee; 
	me thou knewest not, no joy had thy mother of thee. 
	But she, the fiend! she heard thy cries and thy laughter mixt 
165	with tears, and caught the accents of thy earliest speech. 
	She was ever thy mother, while life remained to thee, 
	I only now. But woe is me! that I cannot punish her for 
	her crime! Why bring ye these gifts, ye chieftains, to the pyre, 
	why these empty rites? Herself, I beg – no more does his shade demand – 
170	herself, I pray you, offer, both to the dead and to the ruined 
	parent, I beseech you by this first bloodshed of the war, 
	for which I bore him; so may the Ogyian mothers have deaths to mourn 
	as sad as mine!” She tears her hair and repeats her supplication: 
	“Ay, give her up, nor call me cruel or greedy of blood; 
175	I will die likewise, so be it that, my eyes full-sated by 
	her just death, we fall upon the selfsame fire.”
	
	Thus loudly crying she beheld elsewhere afar Hypsipyle 
	lamenting – for she too spares nor hair nor bosom – 
	and ill brooking a partner in her woe: 
180	“This at least prevent, O princes, and thou for whom the child 
	of our own bed has been flung to ruin; remove that hated woman 
	from the funeral rites! Why does she offend his mother with her 
	accursed presence, and who herself thus in my ruin?
	Whom does she, embracing her own, mourn?” Thus 
185	spake she and fell silent, and her complainings ceased. 
	Even so when a wild beast has seized or shepherd borne away 
	to the cruel shrine a bullock cheated of its first milk, whose strength 
	is yet but frail and whose vigour is drawn but from the udder, 
	the despoiled mother stirs now the valley, now the stream, 
190	now the herds with her moanings, and questions the empty meads; 
	then it irks her to go home, and she leaves the desolate fields 
	the last of all, and turns unfed from the herbage spread before her.
	
	But the father hurls with his own hand upon the pyre his glorious sceptre 
	and the emblems of the Thunderer, and with the sword cuts short the hair 
195	that fell o’er back and breast, and with the shorn tresses covers 
	the frail features of the infant where he lies, and mingles with tender tears 
	such words as these: “Far otherwise, treacherous Jupiter, did I once 
	consecrate these locks to thee, and held me to my vow, 
	shouldst thou have granted me to offer therewith my son’s 
200	ripe manhood at thy shrine17; but the priest confirmed it not, 
	and my prayer was lost; let his shade, then, who is worthier receive them!” 
	Already the torch is set to the pyre, and the flame crackles in the 
	lowest branches; hard is it to restrain the frenzied parents. 
	Danaans are bidden stand and with barrier raised of 
205	weapons shut out afar from their vision the awful scene. 
	The fire is richly fed: never before was so sumptuous a blaze; 
	precious stones crack, huge streams of molten silver run, 
	and gold oozes from out the embroidered raiment; 
	the boughs are fattened with Assyrian juices, 
210	pale saffron drops hissing in the burning honey; 
	foaming bowls of wine are outpoured, and beakers 
	of black blood and pleasant milk yet warm from the udder.18
	
	Then squadrons seven in number – a hundred tall 
	knights in each – led by the Greek-born kings themselves 
215	with arms reversed, circling leftward in due manner purify 
	the pyre, and quell with their dust the shooting flames. 
	Thrice accomplished they their wheeling course, then with resounding 
	clash of arms on arms four times19 their weapons gave forth a terrible 
	din, four times the handmaids beat their breasts in womanly lament. 
220	The other fire receives half-dead animals and beasts 
	yet living; here the prophet bids them cease their wailing, 
	ominous of fresh disaster, although he knows the signs 
	are true; rightward they wheel and so return with quivering 
	spears, and each throws some offering snatched from his 
225	own armour, be it rein or belt he is pleased to plunge into 
	the flames, or javelin or helmet’s shady crest. 
	[Around, the countryside is filled with the hoarse cries 
	of wailing, and piercing trumpets rend the earth. 
	Loud shouts affright the groves; even so do the bugles tear 
230	the Martian standards from the ground, while eager still is cool, 
	and the sword unreddened with blood, and the first face of battle 
	is made fair and glorious: high on a cloud stands 
	Mavors, uncertain yet which host to favour.]
	
	The end was come, and weary Mulciber was sinking now 
235	to crumbling ash; they attack the flames and dowse the pyre 
	with plenteous water, till with the setting sun their toils were 
	finished; scarce did their labour yield to the late-coming shadows. 
	And now nine times had Lucifer chased the dewy stars 
	from heaven, and as often changed his steed and nightly 
240	heralded the lunar fires – yet he deceives not the conscious 
	stars, but is found the same in his alternate risings20; 
	‘tis marvellous how the work has sped! there stands a marble pile, 
	a mighty temple to the departed shade, where a row of sculptured 
	scenes tells all his story: here Hypsipyle shows the river 
245	to the weary Danai, here crawls the unhappy babe, 
	here lies he, while the scaly snake writhes angry coils around 
	the hillock’s end; one would think to hear the dying hisses of 
	his blood-stained mouth, so twines the serpent about the marble spear.
	
	And now Rumour is summoning a multitude eager to behold 
250	the unarmed battles; called forth from every field and city they 
	come; they also gather together, to whom the horror of war 
	is yet unknown, and they who through weary age or infant years 
	had stayed behind; never were such clamouring throngs 
	on the strand of Ephyre or in the circus of Oenomaus.21
	
255	Set in a green ring of curving hills and embraced 
	by woodland lies a vale; rough ridges stand about it, 
	and the twin summits of a mound make a barrier and forbid 
	issue from the plain, which running long and level rises 
	with gentle slope to grassy brows 
260	and winding heights soft with living turf. 
	There in dense crowds while the fields were still rosy in the dawn, 
	the warrior company took their seats; there the heroes delight to reckon 
	the number of the motley multitude, and scan the faces and the dress 
	of their fellows, and they fell the glad confidence of a mighty host. 
265	Thither they drag a hundred black bulls, the strength 
	of the herd, slow-paced and straining; as many cows of similar hue, 
	and bullocks with foreheads not yet crescent-crowned.22
	
	Then the ancient line of great-hearted sires is borne 
	along, in images marvellously fashioned to living likeness. 
270	First the Tirynthian crushes the gasping lion against the 
	strong pressure of his breast and breaks it upon his own bones; 
	him the Inachidae behold not without terror, though he be in bronze 
	and their own famous hero. Next in order is seen father 
	Inachus reclining leftward on the mound of a 
275	reedy bank and letting the streaming urn flow free. 
	Io, already prone23 and the sorrow of her sire, sees behind 
	her back Argus starred with eyes that know no setting. 
	But kindlier Jupiter had raised her erect in the Pharian fields, 
	and already was Aurora24 giving her gracious welcome. 
280	Then father Tantalus, not he who hangs above the 
	deceiving waters and snatches the empty wind of the elusive branch, 
	but the great Thunderer’s god-fearing guest is borne along. 
	Elsewhere triumphant in his car Pelops handles the 
	reins of Neptune,25 and Myrtilos the charioteer grasps at the 
285	bounding wheels, as the swift axle leaves him far and farther behind. 
	Grave Acrisius too and the dread likeness of Coroebeus 
	and Danaë’s guilty bosom, and Amymone26 in sadness by 
	the stream she found, and Alcmena proud of the infant 
	Hercules, a threefold moon27 about her hair. 
290	The sons of Belus28 join their discordant right hands in a 
	pledge of enmity, but Aegyptus with milder look stand near; 
	easy is it to mark on the feigned countenance of Danaus 
	the signs of a treacherous peace and of the coming night. 
	Then follow shapes innumerable. At length pleasure is sated, 
295	and prowess summons the foremost heroes to its own rewards.
	
	First came the sweat of steeds. Tell, O Phoebus, the drivers’ 
	famous names, tell of the steeds themselves; for never did nobler array 
	of wing-footed coursers meet in conflict: even as serried ranks 
	of birds compete in swift course or on a single 
300	shore Aeolus appoints a contest for the wild winds.
	
	Before the rest Arion, marked by his mane of fiery red, 
	is led forth. Neptune, if the fame of olden time be true, 
	was his sire; he first is said to have hurt his young mouth 
	with the bit and tamed him on the sand of the sea-shore, 
305	sparing the lash; for insatiable was his eagerness 
	to run, and he was capricious as a winter sea. 
	Oft was he wont to go in harness with the steeds 
	of ocean through the Libyan or Ionian deep, and bring his dark-blue 
	sire safe home to every shore; the storm-clouds marvelled to be 
310	outstripped, and East and South winds strive and are left behind. 
	Nor less swiftly on land had he borne Amphitryon’s son, 
	when he waged Eurystheus’ wars, in deep-pressed furrows 
	o’er the mead, fierce to him also and impatient of control. 
	Soon by the gods’ bounty he was deemed worthy to have 
315	Adrastus for his lord, and meanwhile had grown far gentler. 
	On that day the chieftain allows him to be driven by his son-in-law 
	Polynices, and much did he counsel him, what arts would soothe 
	the horse when enraged, not to use too fierce a hand, nor to let him 
	gallop free of the rein; “urge other steeds,” said he, “with voice and goad; 
320	but he will go, ay, faster than you wish.” Even so, when the Sun 
	granted the fiery reins and set his son upon the whirling chariot, 
	with tears did he warn the rejoicing youth of treacherous stars 
	and zones that would fain not be o’errun and the temperate 
	heat that lies midway between the poles; obedient was he 
325	and cautious, but the cruel Fates would not suffer him to learn. 
	
	Amphiaraus, next favourite for the prize, aloft in his chariot 
	drives Oebalian steeds; thy progeny, Cyllarus, stealthily begotten 
	while far away by the mouth of Scythian Pontus 
	Castor was exchanging for the oar the Amyclean rein. 
330	Snow-white his own raiment, snow-white are the coursers that lend their 
	necks to the yoke, his helm and fillet match the whiteness of his crested plume. 
	Admetus, too, the fortunate, from Thessalian shores, can scarce 
	restrain his barren mares, of Centaur’s seed, as they tell 
	(so scornful, methinks, are they of their sex, and their 
335	natural heat turns all to body’s vigour).29 White with 
	dark flecks, they resemble day and night: 
	so strongly marked was each colour, nor unfit were they to be 
	deemed of that stock30 which stood spellbound at the piping of the 
	Castalian reed, and scorned their pasture when they heard Apollo play.
	
340	Lo! the young sons of Jason, too, their mother Hypsipyle’s 
	new-found pride, took stand upon the chariots wherein each rode, 
	Thoas, bering the name of his grandsire, proper to his race, and Euneos,31 
	called from Argo’s omen. In everything were the twins alike, in looks, 
	in car and steeds, in raiment, and in the harmony of their wishes, 
345	either to win or to lose only at a brother’s hands. 
	Next ride Chromis and Hippodamus, the one born of mighty Hercules, 
	the other of Oenomaus: it were doubtful which drove more madly. 
	The one has horses bred by Getic Diomede, the other 
	a yoked pair of his Pisean sire, both chariots are decked 
350	with cruel spoils and drip with ghastly blood. 
	For turning-points there stood here a bare oak-trunk, 
	there a stone pillar, arbiter of husbandmen; betwixt either 
	bound there lay a space thou mightest reach with 
	four times a javelin’s cast, with thrice an arrow’s flight.32
	
355	Meanwhile Apollo was charming with his strains the Muses’ 
	glorious company, and, his finger placed upon the strings, 
	was gazing down to earth from the airy summit of Parnassus. 
	First he recounts the deeds of the gods – for oft in duty bound he had sung 
	of Jove and Phlegra and his own victory o’er the serpent and his brothers’ praises33 – 
360	and then reveals what spirit drives the thunderbolt or guides 
	the stars, whence comes the fury of the rivers, what feeds the winds, 
	what founts supply the unmeasured ocean, what pathway of the sun 
	hastens or draws out the course of night, whether earth be lowest 
	or in mid-heaven and encompassed by yet another world we view not. 
365	There he ended, and puts off the sisters, eager though they are to listen, 
	and while he fastens bay about his lyre and the woven brilliance 
	of his coronet, and ungirds his breast of the pictured girdle, 
	he hears a clamour, and beholds not far away Nemea famed 
	for Hercules, and there the mighty spectacle of a four-horsed 
370	chariot-race. He recognizes all, and by chance Admetus 
	and Amphiaraus had taken their stand in a field hard by. 
	Then to himself he spake: “What god has set those two 
	princes, Phoebus’ most loyal names, in mutual rivalry? 
	Both are devoted to me, and both are dear; nor could I say which 
375	holds first place. The one, when I served as thrall on Pelian ground – 
	such was Jove’s command, so the dark Sisters willed – 
	burnt incense to his slave, nor dared to deem me his inferior. 
	The other is the companion of the tripods and the devout pupil 
	of the wisdom of the air: and though the first has preference by his deserts, 
380	yet the other’s thread is near its distaff’s end. For Admetus is 
	old age ordained, and a late death; to thee no joys remain, 
	for Thebes awaits thee and the dark gulf. Thou knowest it, 
	unhappy one: long since have my own birds sung thy doom.” 
	He spoke, and tears bedewed the face that scarce any sorrow 
385	may profane; then straightway came he to Nemea, bounding radiant 
	through the air, swifter than his father’s fire and his own shafts. 
	Long had he reached the earth, yet still his tracks remain 
	in heaven, and still athwart the zephyrs his path gleams bright.
	
	And now Prothous had shaken the lots in a brazen helmet, 
390	and each had his place and order at the starting. The heroes, 
	each his country’s glorious boast, and the coursers, a match to them 
	in glory, all alike of blood divine, stand penned by the one barrier, 
	hopeful, daring yet fearful, anxious yet confident. All is confusion 
	in their hearts; they strive, yet are afraid, to be gone, and a thrill of courage 
395	mixt with dread runs through them to the extremities of their limbs. 
	The steeds are as ardent as their masters: their eyes dart flame, 
	they loudly champ the bits, and blood and foam corrode the iron; 
	scarce do the confining posts resist their pressure, 
	they smoke and pant in stifled rage. 
400	Such misery is it to stand still, a thousand steps are lost 
	ere they start, and, on the absent plain, their hooves ring loud.34 
	Around stand trusty friends, smoothing out the twisted 
	tangled manes, and speak heartening words and give much counsel. 
	The Tyrrhenian35 blast rang in their ears, and all leapt forward 
405	from their places. What canvas on the deep, what javelins in war, 
	what clouds so swiftly fly across the heavens? 
	less violent are winter streams, or fire; slower 
	fall stars or gather rains, more slowly flow 
	the torrents from the mountain-summits.
	
410	As they sped forth the Pelasgi saw and marked them; 
	now are they lost to view, now confused and hidden in one 
	cloud of blinding dust; they can see nothing for the press, 
	and scarce by shout of name can they recognize each other. 
	Then some draw clear of the throng, and each takes place according 
415	to his strength; the second lap blots out the former furrows, 
	and now stooping forward in their eagerness they touch the yoke, 
	now with straining knees they bend double, tugging at the reins.36 
	On the shaggy necks the muscles swell, and the breeze combs back 
	the erect manes, while the dusty ground drinks up the white rain of foam. 
420	The thunder of hooves and the gentler sound of running wheels 
	are blended. Never idle are their arms, the air hisses with 
	the oft-plied lash; no more densely spatters the hail from 
	the cold North, nor streams the rain from the Olenian horns.37
	
	By instinct38 had Arion guessed that another driver stood 
425	grasping the reins, and feared, innocent as he was, the dire 
	son of Oedipus; from the very start he rages more fiercely 
	than his wont, fretting angrily against his burden. 
	The sons of Inachus think him fired by praises, but it is 
	the charioteer that he is flying, the charioteer that he threatens 
430	in maddened fury, and he looks round for his lord on 
	all the plain. Amphiaraus follows him, yet far before the rest 
	and by a long space second, and level with him runs Thessalian 
	Admetus; the twins are together, now Euneos to the fore, 
	now Thoas, and in turn give ground and go ahead, nor ever does 
435	ambitious love of glory set at variance the devoted brothers. 
	Last of all fierce Chromis and fierce Hippodamus contend, 
	not lacking skill, but the weight of their coursers retards 
	them; Hippodamus, leading, feels the panting breath of the 
	following steeds, and their hot wind upon his shoulders. 
440	The seer of Phoebus hoped by drawing tight his rein 
	and turning close around the goal to gain first place; 
	and the Thessalian hero too feels hope glow 
	nearer, while Arion, defying control, dashes here 
	and there in circles and strays rightward from the course. 
445	Already Oeclides was in front and Admetus no longer 
	third, when the sea-born steed, at last brought back from 
	his wide circuit, overtakes and passes both, their triumph 
	but short-lived; a loud crash rises to the sky, and heaven trembles, 
	and all the seats flashed bare, as the crowd sprang to their feet. 
450	But the son of Labdacus39 in pale anxiety neither handles the rein 
	nor dares the lash: just as a steersman, his skill exhausted, rushes upon 
	waves and rocks alike, nor any more consults the stars, 
	but flings hi baffled art to the mercy of chance.
	
	Again at headlong speed they swerve right-handed from the track 
455	into the plain, and strive to keep their course, and again comes the shock 
	of axle on axle, wheel on wheel-spokes; no truce is there, nor keeping faith; 
	a lighter task, one would think, were war, savage war, and bloodshed, 
	such furious will to victory is theirs, such fear and threats of death; 
	and many a hoof is struck as it runs crosswise o’er the plain. 
460	Neither goads nor lashes now suffice, but with shout 
	of name does Admetus urge Iris and Pholoë 
	and steaming Thoë, and the Danaan augur chide fleet 
	Aschetos and Cygnus well so-called. 
	Strymon to hears Chromis, son of Hercules, and fiery Aethion 
465	Euneos; Hippodamus provokes slow Cydon, 
	Thoas entreats piebald Podarces to greater speed. 
	Only Echion’s son keeps gloomy silence in his erring car, 
	and fears to confess his plight by cries of alarm.
	
	Scarce was the real struggle of the steeds begun, and yet now they 
470	are entering the fourth dusty lap, and now steaming sweat is pouring 
	from their exhausted limbs, and fiery thirst leaves and gasps forth the 
	thick breath of the horn-footed steeds; and now their vigour 
	flags, and their flanks are racked with long-drawn pantings. 
	Then first does Fortune, long time doubtful, dare to step in 
475	make decision. Thoas, pressing madly on to pass Haemonian 
	Admetus, falls, nor does his brother aid him; 
	fain would he, but Martian Hippodamus forestalled 
	him and drove his team between them. 
	Next Chromis by Herculean vigour and all his father’s strength 
480	holds Hippodamus with axles interlocked, as he wheels inside him 
	past the goal; in vain the steeds struggle to get free, 
	and strain their sinewy necks and bridles. 
	As when the tide holds fast Sicilian craft and a strong South wind 
	impels them, the swelling sails stand motionless in mid-sea. 
485	Then Chromis hurls his rival from the shattered car, and had sped 
	on the foremost, but when the Thracian horses saw Hippodamus 
	lying on the ground, that awful hunger comes back upon them, and already 
	had they shared in their mad lust his trembling frame, had not the Tirynthian 
	hero, forgetful of victory, taken their bridles and dragged away 
490	the neighing steeds, and left the field vanquished but praised of all.
	
	But Phoebus hath long desired for thee, Amphiaraus, thy promised 
	honours. At last, deeming the moment fit to show thee favour, 
	he visits the grim spaces of the dusty course, when now the race 
	is nearing its end, and for the last time victory hovers doubtful; 
495	a snake-tressed monstrous phantom, of visage terrible to behold, 
	whether he wrought it in Erebus or for the cunning purpose 
	of the moment, certainly endowed with countless terrors – this horrid plague 
	he raises to the world above. The guardian of dusky Lethe could not 
	have beheld it unterrified, nor the Eumenides themselves without a deep 
500	thrill of fear, it would have overturned the horses of the sun in mid-career, 
	and the team of Mars. When golden Arion saw it, 
	his mane leapt up erect, and he halts with upreared shoulders 
	and holds high suspended his yoke-fellow and the steeds that shared 
	his toil on either side. Straightway the Aonian exile 
505	is flung backward head-over-heels: 
	he drops the reins, and the chariot, freed from restraint, 
	dashes far away. But past him as he lies on the crumbling earth 
	sweep the Taenarian car and the Thessalian axle and the 
	Lemnian hero,40 and just avoid him by swerving 
510	in their flight. His friends rush up, and at last he lifts 
	his dazed head and reeling limbs from the ground, 
	and returns, scarce hoped for by his father-in-law Adrastus.
	
	How timely then, O Theban, had been thy death, had not stern 
	Tisiphone forbidden! How grievous a war couldest thou have prevented! 
515	Thebe had bewailed thee and thy brother made show thereof, and Argos 
	too had mourned, and Nemea and Lerna and Larissa had in suppliant guise 
	shorn tresses for thee, thou hadst excelled Archemorus in funeral pomp.
	
	Then Oeclides, although the prize was now sure for him 
	as he followed, since masterless Arion held first place, 
520	yearned yet with keen desire to pass even the empty chariot. 
	The god lends strength and refreshment; swifter than the East wind 
	he flies, as though the barrier were but just fallen and he were 
	starting on the race, and calling aloud on nimble Caerus and snow-white 
	Cygnus, plies their necks with blows and shakes the reins upon their backs. 
525	Now at least, when nobody is in front, the fiery axle 
	devours the course, and the scattered sand is thrown afar. 
	The earth groans, and even then savagely threatens. 
	And perchance Arion too had owned defeat and Cygnus taken first place, 
	but his ocean-sire suffers him not to be defeated; thus by a just division 
530	the glory remained for the horse, but the prophet gained the victory. 
	His meed of triumph was a Herculean bowl, borne by 
	two youths; the Tirynthian on a time was wont to take 
	it in one hand, and with head flung back quaff it foaming, 
	whether victorious over a monster or in the field of Mars. 
535	Fierce Centaurs has it, cunningly wrought, and fearful shapes 
	in gold: here amid slaughter of Lapithae are stones and torches 
	flying, and again other bowls41; everywhere the furious anger 
	of dying men; he himself seizes the raging Hylaeus, 
	and grips him by the beard and wields his club. 
540	But for thee, Admetus, is brought for thy deserving 
	a cloak with a flowing border of Maeonian dye, stained many a time 
	with purple; here swims the youth contemptuous of Phrixean 
	waters,42 and gleams with sea-blue body through the pictured wave; 
	one sees the sideward sweep of his arm, and he seems about to make 
545	the alternate stroke, nor would one think to find his hair dry in the woven fabric. 
	Yonder high upon the tower sits anxiously watching, all in vain, 
	the Sestian maid; near her the conscious lamp droops and flickers. 
	These rich rewards Adrastus bids be given to the victors; 
	but his son-in-law he consoles with an Achaean handmaid.
	
550	Then he incites those heroes who are speediest of foot to strive 
	for ample rewards: a contest of agility where prowess is frailest,43 
	fit pursuit for peace, when sacred games invite, nor useless in war 
	as a refuge should power of arm fail. Before all the rest Idas leaps 
	to the front, whose temples were lately shaded by Olympian wreaths; 
555	the youth of Pisa and the bands of Elis hail him with 
	applause. Alcon of Sicyon follows, and Phaedimus, twice 
	acclaimed the victor of the sands of Isthmus, and Dymas, 
	who once outstripped the flight of wing-footed steeds, 
	but now they outran him by reason of retarding age. 
560	Many too, whom the ignorant multitude received in silence, came forward 
	from this side and from that. But for Parthenopaeus the Arcadian they call aloud, 
	and arouse murmurs that roam throughout the close-packed circus. 
	Well know is his parent for speed of foot; who cannot tell of the 
	peerless renown of Atalanta, and of those footprints that no suitor 
565	could o’ertake? The son bears all his mother’s glory, 
	and he himself, already known to fame, is said to catch on foot 
	the defenceless hinds in the open glades of Mount Lycaeus, 
	and, as he runs, to o’ertake the flung javelin. 
	Long expected, at last darts he forward, leaping lightly o’er the 
570	companies, and unfastens the twisted golden clasp of his cloak. 
	His limbs shine forth, and all his graceful frame is revealed, 
	his fine shoulders, and breast as smooth and comely 
	as his cheeks, and his face was lost in his body’s beauty. 
	But he scorns the praise of his fairness, and suffers not admirers 
575	to come near him. Then he cunningly sets to work with the 
	draughts of Pallas,44 and makes his skin tawny with rich oil. 
	Thus do Idas and Dymas and the rest shine sleek and glossy. 
	So when the starlight glitters on a tranquil sea, 
	and the spangled heaven is mirrored tremulous in the deep, 
580	brilliant is every star, but more brilliant than the rest does 
	Hesperus shoot his beams, and brightly as he flames in the high 
	heavens, so bright is his reflection in the dark-blue waves. 
	Idas is next in beauty, nor much slower in speed, 
	next older too in years; but for him already 
585	has the palaestra’s oil brought on the tender growth, 
	and the down is creeping o’er his cheeks, nor yet 
	confesses itself among the cloud of unshorn locks. Then they duly 
	try their speed and sharpen up their paces, and by various arts 
	and feigned excitement stir their languid limbs; 
590	now they sink down with bended knees, now smite 
	with loud claps their slippery breasts, now ply 
	their fiery feet in short sprint and sudden stop.
	
	As soon as the bar fell, and left the threshold level, 
	they nimbly dashed away and the naked forms gleamed 
595	upon the plain; more slowly seemed the swift coursers 
	to move of late on the same ground: one might deem them so many 
	arrows poured forth from Cydonian host or flying Parthians. 
	Not otherwise speed the stags over Hyrcanian wilds, 
	hearing, or fancying that they hear, a famished lion roar 
600	afar; blind fear drives them in crowding panic-stricken 
	flight, amid the ceaseless noise of clashing horns. 
	Then swifter than the rapid breeze the Maenalian boy outstrips 
	the sight, and hard behind him fierce Idas runs and breathes upon 
	his shoulder and presses close upon his rear with panting breath 
605	and over-shadowing form. After them Phaedimus and Dymas 
	strive in doubtful contest, near them fleet Alcon. 
	The yellow hair hung down from the Arcadian’s unshorn 
	head; this from his earliest years he cherished as a gift 
	to Trivia, and vainly boasting had vowed it to his country’s altars, 
610	when he should return in triumph from the Ogygian war. 
	At that time, freed from its band and streaming loose behind, 
	it flies backward as it meets the wind, at once hindering his own 
	speed, and spreading out in front of his rival Idas. 
	Thereat the youth bethought him of deceit and an opportunity 
615	for fraud; already close upon the goal, even while Parthenopaeus is 
	triumphantly crossing the threshold,45 he grasps his hair, and pulling him 
	back seizes his place, and is the first to breast the wide entrance of the goal.46
	
	The Arcadians cry “To arms!” and with arms they hasten to defend 
	their prince, if the lost prize and merited honour be not restored, 
620	and make ready to descend on all the course. 
	Others again were pleased by the ruse of Idas. Parthenopaeus himself 
	pours showers of earth upon his face and streaming eyes, 
	and the comeliness of tears is added to his beauty. 
	In his grief he rends with bloody nails now his breast, now his 
625	innocent cheeks and guilty hair, while all around discordant clamour 
	rages, and old Adrastus halts irresolute of counsel. 
	At last he speaks: “Cease quarrelling, youths! 
	your prowess must be tried again; but run not 
	in one track only; Idas has this side; keep thou apart 
630	yonder, and let there by no cheating in the race!”
	
	They heard, and abide by his command. Then the youth 
	of Tegea with silent prayer humbly entreats the gods: 
	“Goddess, queen of the woodlands, for to thee and to thine honour 
	these locks of mine are vowed, and from this vow comes my disgrace; 
635	if my mother or I myself have deserved well of thee 
	in hunting, suffer me not, I pray thee, to go ill-omened thus 
	to Thebes, or to have won such bitter shame for Arcadia.” 
	Clear proof was given that he was heard. The plain scarce 
	feels him as he goes, his feet treads tenuous air, 
640	and the rare footsteps hover and leave the dust unbroken. 
	With a shout he dashes to the goal, with a shout he runs back 
	to the chief, and seizing the palm appeased his grief. 
	The running was over, and prizes for their toils stand ready. 
	The Arcadian is given a horse, the shameless Idas bears away 
645	a shield, the rest go contented with Lycian quivers.
	
	Then he invites any who may wish to try the issue with the 
	hurled quoit,47 and display untiring vigour and proud strength. 
	At his command goes Peterelas, and with all his body bent 
	scarce lays down beside him the slippery weight of the bronze 
650	mass; in silence the sons of Inachus look on and estimate the toil. 
	Soon a number rush forward: two of Achaean race, 
	three sons of Ephyre, one Pisa-born, the seventh an 
	Acarnanian; and more was the love of glory urging on, had not 
	tall Hippomedon, incited by the crowd, come forward, 
655	and carrying another broad disk at his right side: 
	“Take this one rather, ye warriors, who are marching 
	to shatter walls with stones, and to overthrow the Tyrian towers, 
	take this one! As for that other, any hand can toss that 
	weight!” and with no effort he caught it up and threw it to 
660	one side. They fall back in amaze and confess themselves 
	undone; scarce Phlegyas alone and eager Menestheus, 
	compelled by sense of shame and noble ancestry, 
	vouchsafed to try their strength; the rest of their own accord 
	gave place, and returned inglorious, marvelling at the disk. 
665	Even so the shield of Mars on the Bistonian48 plain 
	reflects an evil light on Mount Pangaeus, and shining strikes 
	the sun with terror, and deeply clangs beneath the spear of the god.
	
	Phlegyas of Pisa begins the toil; straightway he drew all eyes 
	upon himself, when they beheld his frame, such promise of great deeds 
670	was there. And first with earth he roughens the quoit and his own hand, 
	then shaking off the dust turns it right skilfully to see which side 
	best suits his fingers, or fits more surely the middle of his arm. 
	This sport had he ever loved, not only when he 
	attended his country’s famous festival, but he was wont 
675	to reckon the space between Alpheos’ either bank, and, 
	where they are most widely distant, to clear 
	the river nor ever wet the disk. 
	At once, then, confident in his powers he measures, not the rough 
	acres of the plain, but the sky’s expanse with his right arm, and 
680	with either knee bent earthward49 he gathers up his strength 
	and whirls the disk above him and hides it in the clouds. 
	Swiftly it speeds aloft, and as though falling grows faster 
	as it mounts50; at last exhausted it returns to earth more slowly 
	from the height, and buries itself in the field. 
685	So falls, whenever she is torn from the astonished stars, 
	the darkened sister of the sun51; afar the peoples beat the bronze for succour, 
	and indulge their fruitless fears, but the Thessalian hag 
	triumphant laughs at the panting steeds who obey her spell. 
	The Danai shout applause, though amid thy frowns, 
690	Hippomedon, and he hopes for a mightier throw along the level.52
	
	But thereupon Fortune, whose pleasure it is to dash immoderate 
	hopes, assails him; what power has man against the 
	gods? Already he was preparing a mighty throw, 
	his head was turned and all his side was swinging back53: 
695	the weight slipped and fell before his feet and baffled his throw, 
	and his hand dropped empty and unavailing. 
	All groaned, while to a few the sight brought pleasure. 
	Menestheus then, more cautious, brings careful skill to 
	the attempt, and uttering many a prayer to thee, O son of Maia,54 
700	corrects with dust the slippery surface of the powerful mass. 
	With far better fortune it speeds from his huge hand, 
	nor falls till it has covered no mean extent of the course. 
	They applaud, and an arrows is fixed to mark the spot. 
	Third, Hippomedon with slow and ponderous step advances to 
705	the labours of the contest; for deep in his heart he takes warning 
	from the fate of Phlegyas and the good fortune of Menestheus. 
	He lifts the instrument of combat that his hand knew well, and holding it aloft 
	summons up the strength of his unyielding side and vigorous 
	arms, and flings it with a mighty whirl, springing forward after it 
710	himself. With a terrific bound the quoit flies through the empty air, 
	and even in its flight remembers the hand that flung it and keeps 
	to its due path, nor attains a doubtful or a neighbouring goal as it passes 
	the defeated Menestheus, but far beyond the rival sign it falls to earth, 
	and makes tremble the green buttresses and shady heights of the theatre, 
715	as though they were falling in vast and widespread ruin; 
	even so from smoke-emitting Aetna did Polyphemus hurl the rock, 
	though with hand untaught of vision, yet on the very track 
	of the ship he could but hear, and close to his enemy Ulixes. 
	Thus too the Aloidae, when rigid Ossa already trod Olympus 
720	under foot, bore icy Pelion also, 
	and hoped to join it the frightened heaven.
	
	Then the son of Talaus bids a tiger’s skin go as prize 
	to the victor: all glossy it shone with a yellow border, 
	and its sharp claws were tamed with gold. 
725	Menestheus receives a Gnosian bow and errant shafts. 
	“But to thee, Phlegyas,” he cries, “whom unlucky fortune foiled, 
	we give this sword, once the glory and aid of our 
	Pelasgus, nor will Hippomedon grudge it thee. 
	And now is courage needed; wield ye the terrible cestus in close 
730	conflict; valour here comes nighest to that of battle and the sword.”
	
	Argive Capaneus took his stand – awful in aspect, awful 
	the terror he inspires – and, binding on his arms the raw ox-hide 
	black with lumps of lead, himself no softer, 
	“Send me one,” says he, “from all those thousands of warriors; 
735	and would rather that my rival were of Aonian 
	stock, whom it were right to slay, and that 
	my valour were not stained55 with kindred blood.” 
	They stood aghast and terror made them silent. 
	At last Alcidamas, unexpected, leapt forth from the naked56 crowd 
740	of Laconians, while the Dorian princes marvel; 
	but his comrades knew he relied on his master Pollux, 
	and had grown up in the wrestling-school of a god. 
	Pollux himself guided his hands and moulded his arms – 
	love of the sport constrained him – and of the set him against 
745	himself, and admiring him as he stood up in like mood caught him up 
	exultant, and pressed his naked body to his breast. 
	Capaneus thinks scorn of him and mocks at his challenge, 
	as though in pity, and demands another foe; at last perforce 
	he faces him, and now his languid neck swells at anger’s prompting. 
750	With bodies poised at their full height they lift their hands, 
	deadly as thunderbolts; safe withdrawn are their faces on their 
	shoulders, ever watching, and closed is the approach to wounds. 
	The one is as great in broad expanse of every limb and terrible 
	in size of bone as though Tityos should rise up from the Stygian 
755	fields, did the fierce birds allow him; 
	the other was lately but a boy, yet his strength is riper than 
	his years, and his youthful vigour gives promise of a mighty manhood; 
	him would none wish to see defeated nor stained with cruel gore, 
	but each man fears the spectacle with eager prayers.57
	
760	Scanning each other with their gaze and each awaiting 
	the first opening, they fell not at once to angry blows, 
	but stayed awhile in mutual fear, and mingled caution 
	with their rage; they but incline their arms against each other 
	as they spar, and make trial of their gloves, dulling them with mere rubs.58 
765	The one, more skilfully trained, puts by his fury, and taking thought 
	for the future delays and husbands up his strength; but the other, prodigal 
	of harm and reckless of his powers, rushes with all his might and 
	in wild blows exhausts both arms, and attacks with fruitless gnashing 
	of teeth, and injures his own cause. But the Laconian, prudent and crafty, 
770	and with all his country’s vigilance, now parries, now avoids 
	the blow; sometimes by the throwing back or rapid bending of his 
	head he shuns all hurt, now with his hands he beats off the aimed 
	assault, and advances with his feet while keeping his head drawn back.59 
	Often again, as his foe engages him with superior power – 
775	such strength is in his cunning, such skill in his right hand – 
	with bold initiative he enters his guard and overshadows him, and towering high 
	assails him. Just as a mass of water hurls itself headlong on a 
	threatening rock, and falls back broken, so does he wheel round his angry foe, 
	breaking his defence; look! he lifts his hand and threatens a long time 
780	his face or side, and thus by fear of his hard weapons 
	diverts his guard and cunningly plants a sudden blow, 
	and marks the middle of his forehead with a wound; 
	blood flows, and the warm stream stains his temples. 
	Capaneus, yet ignorant, wonders at the sudden murmur of the crowd, 
785	but when, as he chanced to draw his weary hand across 
	his face, he saw the stains upon the cowhide, 
	no lion nor tiger feeling the javelin’s smart was e’er so 
	mad; hotly he drives the youth before him in headlong retreat 
	over the whole field, and is forcing him on to his back; 
790	terribly he grinds his teeth and whirls his fists in countless 
	repeated blows. The strokes are wasted on the winds, 
	some fall on the gloves of his foe; with active movement 
	and aid of nimble feet the Spartan eludes the thousand deaths 
	that shower about his temples, yet not unmindful of his art he flees 
795	still fighting, and though fleeing meets blows with blows.
	
	And now both are wearied with the toil and their exhausted panting; 
	slower the one pursues, nor is the other so swift to escape; 
	the knees of both fail them and alike they rest. 
	Thus when long wandering o’er the sea has wearied the mariners, the signal 
800	is given from the stern and they rest their arms awhile; but scarce 
	have they taken repose, when another cry summons them to the oars again. 
	Lo! a second time he makes a furious dash, but the other tricks him 
	and goes at him with a rush of his own and sinking into his shoulders; 
	forward he60 pitches on his head, and as he rises the merciless boy 
805	smote him another blow and himself grew pale at the success. 
	The Inachidae raise a shout louder than the noise of shore 
	or forest. But when Adrastus saw him struggling from the ground, 
	and lifting his hands, intent on hideous deeds; 
	“Haste, friends, I pray you, he is mad! hasten, prevent him! 
810	he is out of his mind – quick! bring the palm and the prizes! 
	He will not cease, I see well, till he pounds the brain 
	within the shattered skull. Rescue the doomed Laconian!” 
	At once Tydeus darts forth, and Hippomedon, obedient 
	to command; then scarce do the two with all their might 
815	master his two arms and bind them fast, and forcefully urge him: 
	“Leave the field, thou art victorious; ‘tis noble to spare the vanquished. 
	He too is one of us, and a comrade in the war.” But no whit is the hero’s 
	fury lessened; he thrusts away the proffered branch and the cuirass, 
	and shouts: “Let me free! Shall I not smash in gore 
820	and clotted dust those cheeks whereby that eunuch-boy 
	gained favour, and send his unsightly corpse to the tomb 
	and give cause for mourning to his Oebalian masters61?” 
	So says he, but his friends force him away, swelling with wrath 
	and protesting that he has not conquered, while the Laconians 
825	praise the nursling of famed Taygetus, and laugh loud at the other’s threats.
	
	Long time have the varied deeds of valour and his own conscious 
	worth provoked with urgent stings great-hearted Tydeus; 
	both at the quoit and in speed of foot did he excel, 
	nor less was he a champion of the boxing-glove, but before all other sports 
830	the anointed wrestling-match was dear. Thus had he been wont 
	to spend the leisure intervals of fighting and relax his martial ire, 
	and with mighty heroes on the banks of Achelous 
	did he strive, heaven-taught, in many a victorious bout. 
	Therefore when keen ambition called the youths to wrestle, 
835	the Aetolian puts off the terrible covering of native 
	boar-hide from his shoulders. Against him Agylleus, 
	who boasts of Cleonaean62 stock, raises his tall limbs, 
	no less in bulk than Hercules, so loftily he towers with 
	huge shoulders and monstrously surpasses human measure. 
840	But he lacks his father’s close-knit strength of body; 
	loose-limbed and overgrown is he, unsteady and soft 
	of muscle63; hence is Oenides64 boldly confident to overthrow 
	so mighty an antagonist. Though slight himself to look upon, 
	yet he is heavy of bone and hard and sinewy of arm: 
845	never did nature dare enclose so fiery a spirit 
	or so great force in so small a frame.
	
	When their skins had taken pleasure in the oil, both ran forward 
	to the middle of the plain and clad themselves in showers of sand; 
	then with the dust they dry their wet limbs in turn, 
850	and sink their necks into their shoulders and hold out their arms 
	wide-branching. At once Tydeus with cunning craft stoops his own body, 
	his knees near touching the sand, and so draws down the 
	tall Agylleus and makes him bend to his own level. 
	But just as the cypress, queen of the Alpine height, 
855	inclines her summit to the south wind’s pressure, 
	scarce holding by her root, and nears the ground, 
	yet soon springs up again into the air – 
	not otherwise does towering Agylleus of his own will force down 
	his huge limbs and groaning65 bend double over his little foe; 
860	and now, first one, then the other, their hands attack brow and shoulder 
	and side and neck and breast and legs that evade the clutch. 
	Sometimes they hang a long while locked in each other’s grip, 
	now savagely they seek to break the fingers’ clasp. 
	Less fiercely do two bulls, the leaders of the herd, 
865	make war; in the meadow stands the fair white heifer 
	and awaits the victor, while their breasts are torn in the mad 
	struggle, and love plies the goad and heals their wounds66; 
	so do boars fight with flashing tusks, so do ugly 
	bears grasp shaggy hides in hairy conflict.
	
870	So violent is Oenides; neither dust nor heat of sun makes 
	his limbs faint and weary, but his skin is close-knit and firm, 
	and schooled by toil to hard muscle. But the other, unsound in wind, 
	pants heavily, and breathes sickly gasps in his exhaustion, 
	and the caked sand runs off him in streams of sweat, 
875	while furtively he snatches support for his body from the ground. 
	On him Tydeus constantly presses, and feinting at his neck catches 
	at his legs, but his arms were baffled by their shortness 
	and failed in their design, while all the other’s towering height 
	came down upon him, and crushed and buried him under the huge 
880	falling mass. Just as when the Iberian67 miner burrows 
	beneath a hill and leaves far behind the living day, then, 
	if the suspended ground has rocked and the tunnelled earth 
	crashed down with sudden roar, overwhelmed by the fallen 
	mount he lies within, nor ever does his crushed and utterly broken 
885	corpse deliver up the indignant soul to its own skies. 
	More vigorous is Tydeus than his foe, and superior in spirited valour; 
	nor is it long before he has slipped from the other’s hold and unequal weight, and 
	encompassing him as he hesitates fastens suddenly on his back, then swiftly 
	enfolds sides and groin in a firm embrace and grips his knees between his thighs, 
890	and relentlessly, as he struggles in vain to escape 
	from the grasp and force his hand against his side – 
	a burden wonderful and terrible to see – raises him 
	aloft. So, fame tells, did Hercules hold fast in his arms 
	the sweating earth-born Libyan,68 when he found the trick 
895	and snatched him up on high, and left him no hope of falling, 
	nor suffered him to touch even with his foot’s extremity his mother earth.
	
	A shout arises and glad applause from the multitude. 
	Then, poising him aloft, suddenly of his own will he loosed him 
	and threw him sideways, and following him as he fell seized his neck 
900	with his right hand and his middle between his legs. 
	Thus beset, his spirit fails, and only shame drives him to struggle. 
	At last he lies extended, with breast and belly prone on the 
	ground, and a long time after sadly rises, 
	leaving the marks of his disgrace on the imprinted earth. 
905	But Tydeus, bearing the palm in his right hand and in his left the prize 
	of shining armour: “What if the plain of Dirce held not no small measure 
	of my blood – as well ye know – where of late these scars 
	made treaty with Thebes69?” So speaking he displays 
	the scars, and gives to his comrades the glorious rewards that 
910	he had won, while the spurned corselet follows Agylleus from the field.
	
	There are some, too, who advance to combat with the naked sword. 
	And already were they taking their stand, fully armed, Agreus from 
	Epidaurus, and the Dircaean exile, not yet doomed by fate. 
	But the chieftain, the son of Iasus, forbids them: “Great store of death remains, 
915	O youths, preserve your warlike temper and your mad desire for 
	a foeman’s blood. And thou, for whose sake we have laid bare our 
	ancestral acres and our beloved cities, given not, I pray thee, 
	such power to chance before the fight begins, nor – 
	may the gods forfend it! - to thy brother’s prayers.” 
920	Thus he speaks, and enriches them both with a golden helm. 
	Then lest his son-in-law lack praise, he bids his lofty temples 
	be garlanded, and himself proclaimed aloud victor of Thebes70: 
	the dire Fates echoed back the ominous sound.
	
	The monarch himself also do the princes urge to dignify with some exploit 
925	of his own the festal contests, and to confer this final honour on the tomb; 
	they bid him lest one victory be lacking to the number 
	of the leaders, to shoot Lyctian71 arrows from 
	his bow, or to cleave the clouds with the slender spear. 
	Gladly he accedes, and thronged about by the foremost warriors 
930	descends from the green mound to the level plain; his armour-bearer 
	at command bears after him his light quiver and his bow: 
	he prepares to shoot the circus’ mighty length, 
	and to plant wounds upon an appointed ash-tree.
	
	Who will deny that omens flow from the hidden causes of things to come? 
935	The fates lie open to mankind, but we choose not to take heed, 
	and the proof foreshown is wasted; thus turn we omens into chance, 
	and from hence Fortune draws her power of harm.
	
	The fateful arrow in a moment measured the plain and struck the tree, 
	and then – awful to behold! – came back through the air it but now 
940	had traversed and turning homeward from the goal kept 
	on its way, and fell by the mouth of its well-known quiver. 
	Much talk the princes interchange in error: some say the clouds 
	and the winds on high did meet and drive the shaft, others that the impact 
	of the wood repelled it. Deep hidden lies the mighty issue and the 
945	awful truth foretold: to its master only did the arrow 
	vouchsafe survival, and a sad returning from the war.