Thy coursers are, whence evil may ensue. 
But though their steeds be swifter, I account 395
Thee wise, at least, as they.  Now is the time
For counsel, furnish now thy mind with all
Precaution, that the prize escape thee not. 
The feller of huge trees by skill prevails
More than by strength; by skill the pilot guides 400
His flying bark rock’d by tempestuous winds,
And more by skill than speed the race is won. 
But he who in his chariot and his steeds
Trusts only, wanders here and wanders there
Unsteady, while his coursers loosely rein’d 405
Roam wide the field; not so the charioteer
Of sound intelligence; he though he drive
Inferior steeds, looks ever to the goal
Which close he clips, not ignorant to check
His coursers at the first but with tight rein 410
Ruling his own, and watching those before. 
Now mark; I will describe so plain the goal
That thou shalt know it surely.  A dry stump
Extant above the ground an ell in height
Stands yonder; either oak it is, or pine 415
More likely, which the weather least impairs. 
Two stones, both white, flank it on either hand. 
The way is narrow there, but smooth the course
On both sides.  It is either, as I think,
A monument of one long since deceased, 420
Or was, perchance, in ancient days design’d,
As now by Peleus’ mighty son, a goal. 
That mark in view, thy steeds and chariot push
Near to it as thou may’st; then, in thy seat
Inclining gently to the left, prick smart 425
Thy right-hand horse challenging him aloud,
And give him rein; but let thy left-hand horse
Bear on the goal so closely, that the nave
And felly[13] of thy wheel may seem to meet. 
Yet fear to strike the stone, lest foul disgrace 430
Of broken chariot and of crippled steeds
Ensue, and thou become the public jest. 
My boy beloved! use caution; for if once
Thou turn the goal at speed, no man thenceforth
Shall reach, or if he reach, shall pass thee by, 435
Although Arion in thy rear he drove
Adrastus’ rapid horse of race divine,
Or those, Troy’s boast, bred by Laomedon. 
So Nestor spake, inculcating with care
On his son’s mind these lessons in the art, 440
And to his place retiring, sat again. 
Meriones his coursers glossy-maned
Made ready last.  Then to his chariot-seat
Each mounted, and the lots were thrown; himself
Achilles shook them.  First, forth leap’d the lot 445
Of Nestor’s son Antilochus, after whom
The King Eumelus took his destined place. 
The third was Menelaus spear-renown’d;
Meriones the fourth; and last of all,
Bravest of all, heroic Diomede 450
The son of Tydeus took his lot to drive.