So far advanced makes competition vain. 510
But reach the son of Atreus, fly to reach
His steeds, incontinent; ah, be not shamed
For ever, foil’d by AEthe, by a mare! 
Why fall ye thus behind, my noblest steeds? 
I tell you both, and ye shall prove me true, 515
No favor shall ye find at Nestor’s hands,
My valiant sire, but he will thrust his spear
Right through you, should we lose, for sloth of yours,
Or by your negligence, the nobler prize. 
Haste then—­pursue him—­reach the royal Chief—­ 520
And how to pass him in yon narrow way
Shall be my care, and not my care in vain. 
He ended; they, awhile, awed by his voice,
With more exertion ran, and Nestor’s son
Now saw the hollow strait mark’d by his sire. 525
It was a chasm abrupt, where winter-floods,
Wearing the soil, had gullied deep the way. 
Thither Atrides, anxious to avoid
A clash of chariots drove, and thither drove
Also, but somewhat devious from his track, 530
Antilochus.  Then Menelaus fear’d,
And with loud voice the son of Nestor hail’d. 
Antilochus, at what a madman’s rate
Drivest thou! stop—­check thy steeds—­the way is here
Too strait, but widening soon, will give thee scope 535
To pass me by; beware, lest chariot close
To chariot driven, thou maim thyself and me. 
He said; but still more rapid and the scourge
Plying continual, as he had not heard,
Antilochus came on.  Far as the quoit 540
By some broad-shoulder’d youth for trial hurl’d
Of manhood flies, so far Antilochus
Shot forward; but the coursers fell behind
Of Atreus’ son, who now abated much
By choice his driving, lest the steeds of both 545
Jostling, should overturn with sudden shock
Both chariots, and themselves in dust be roll’d,
Through hot ambition of the foremost prize. 
Him then the hero golden-hair’d reproved. 
Antilochus! the man lives not on earth 550
Like thee for love of mischief.  Go, extoll’d
For wisdom falsely by the sons of Greece. 
Yet, trust me, not without an oath, the prize
Thus foully sought shall even now be thine. 
He said, and to his coursers call’d aloud. 555
Ah be not tardy; stand not sorrow-check’d;
Their feet will fail them sooner far than yours,
For years have pass’d since they had youth to boast. 
So he; and springing at his voice, his steeds
Regain’d apace the vantage lost.  Meantime 560
The Grecians, in full circus seated, mark’d
The steeds; they flying, fill’d with dust the air. 
Then, ere the rest, Idomeneus discern’d
The foremost pair; for, on a rising ground
Exalted, he without the circus sat, 565
And hearing, though remote, the driver’s voice