To other Grecians who shall next contend. 920
He spake; they glad complied, and wiping off
The dust, put on their tunics.  Then again
Achilles other prizes yet proposed,
The rapid runner’s meed.  First, he produced
A silver goblet of six measures; earth 925
Own’d not its like for elegance of form. 
Skilful Sidonian artists had around
Embellish’d it,[22] and o’er the sable deep
Phoenician merchants into Lemnos’ port
Had borne it, and the boon to Thoas[23] given; 930
But Jason’s son, Euneues, in exchange
For Priam’s son Lycaon, to the hand
Had pass’d it of Patroclus famed in arms. 
Achilles this, in honor of his friend,
Set forth, the swiftest runner’s recompense. 935
The second should a fatted ox receive
Of largest size, and he assign’d of gold
A just half-talent to the worst and last. 
He stood erect, and to the Greeks he cried. 
Now stand ye forth who shall this prize dispute. 940
He said, and at his word instant arose
Swift Ajax Oiliades; upsprang
The shrewd Ulysses next, and after him
Brave Nestor’s son Antilochus, with whom
None vied in speed of all the youths of Greece. 945
They stood prepared.  Achilles show’d the goal. 
At once all started.  Oiliades
Led swift the course, and closely at his heels
Ulysses ran.  Near as some cinctured maid
Industrious holds the distaff to her breast, 950
While to and fro with practised finger neat
She tends the flax drawing it to a thread,
So near Ulysses follow’d him, and press’d
His footsteps, ere the dust fill’d them again,
Pouring his breath into his neck behind, 955
And never slackening pace.  His ardent thirst
Of victory with universal shouts
All seconded, and, eager, bade him on. 
And now the contest shortening to a close,
Ulysses his request silent and brief 960
To azure-eyed Minerva thus preferr’d. 
Oh Goddess hear, prosper me in the race! 
Such was his prayer, with which Minerva pleased,
Freshen’d his limbs, and made him light to run. 
And now, when in one moment they should both 965
Have darted on the prize, then Ajax’ foot
Sliding, he fell; for where the dung of beeves
Slain by Achilles for his friend, had spread
The soil, there[24] Pallas tripp’d him.  Ordure foul
His mouth, and ordure foul his nostrils fill’d. 970
Then brave Ulysses, first arriving, seized
The cup, and Ajax took his prize, the ox. 
He grasp’d his horn, and sputtering as he stood
The ordure forth, the Argives thus bespake. 
Ah—­Pallas tripp’d my footsteps; she attends 975
Ulysses ever with a mother’s care. 
Loud laugh’d the Grecians.  Then, the remnant prize
Antilochus receiving, smiled and said.