Fierce without pause they fought, and never flagged Epeius, but threw all his stormy strength Into his onrush. Yet did Theseus' son Never lose heart, but baffled the straight blows Of those strong hands, and by his fighting-craft Flinging them right and left, leapt in, brought home A blow to his eyebrow, cutting to the bone.
Even then with counter-stroke Epeius reached Acamas' temple, and hurled him to the ground.
Swift he sprang up, and on his stalwart foe Rushed, smote his head: as he rushed in again, The other, slightly swerving, sent his left Clean to his brow; his right, with all his might Behind it, to his nose. Yet Acamas still Warded and struck with all the manifold shifts Of fighting-craft. But now the Achaeans all Bade stop the fight, though eager still were both To strive for coveted victory. Then came Their henchmen, and the gory gauntlets loosed In haste from those strong hands. Now drew they breath From that great labour, as they bathed their brows With sponges myriad-pored. Comrades and friends With pleading words then drew them face to face, And prayed, "In friendship straight forget your wrath."
So to their comrades' suasion hearkened they;
For wise men ever bear a placable mind.
They kissed each other, and their hearts forgat That bitter strife. Then Thetis sable-stoled Gave to their glad hands two great silver bowls The which Euneus, Jason's warrior son In sea-washed Lemnos to Achilles gave To ransom strong Lycaon from his hands.
These had Hephaestus fashioned for his gift To glorious Dionysus, when he brought His bride divine to Olympus, Minos' child Far-famous, whom in sea-washed Dia's isle Theseus unwitting left. The Wine-god brimmed With nectar these, and gave them to his son;
And Thoas at his death to Hypsipyle With great possessions left them. She bequeathed The bowls to her godlike son, who gave them up Unto Achilles for Lycaon's life.
The one the son of lordly Theseus took, And goodly Epeius sent to his ship with joy The other. Then their bruises and their scars Did Podaleirius tend with loving care.
First pressed he out black humours, then his hands Deftly knit up the gashes: salves he laid Thereover, given him by his sire of old, Such as had virtue in one day to heal The deadliest hurts, yea, seeming-cureless wounds.
Straight was the smart assuaged, and healed the scars Upon their brows and 'neath their clustering hair Then for the archery-test Oileus' son Stood forth with Teucer, they which in the race Erewhile contended. Far away from these Agamemnon, lord of spears, set up a helm Crested with plumes, and spake: "The master-shot Is that which shears the hair-crest clean away."
Then straightway Aias shot his arrow first, And smote the helm-ridge: sharply rang the brass.
Then Teucer second with most earnest heed Shot: the swift shaft hath shorn the plume away.
Loud shouted all the people as they gazed, And praised him without stint, for still his foot Halted in pain, yet nowise marred his aim When with his hands he sped the flying shaft.
Then Peleus' bride gave unto him the arms Of godlike Troilus, the goodliest Of all fair sons whom Hecuba had borne In hallowed Troy; yet of his goodlihead No joy she had; the prowess and the spear Of fell Achilles reft his life from him.
As when a gardener with new-whetted scythe Mows down, ere it may seed, a blade of corn Or poppy, in a garden dewy-fresh And blossom-flushed, which by a water-course Crowdeth its blooms -- mows it ere it may reach Its goal of bringing offspring to the birth, And with his scythe-sweep makes its life-work vain And barren of all issue, nevermore Now to be fostered by the dews of spring;
So did Peleides cut down Priam's son The god-like beautiful, the beardless yet And virgin of a bride, almost a child!
Yet the Destroyer Fate had lured him on To war, upon the threshold of glad youth, When youth is bold, and the heart feels no void.
Forthwith a bar of iron massy and long From the swift-speeding hand did many essay To hurl; but not an Argive could prevail To cast that ponderous mass. Aias alone Sped it from his strong hand, as in the time Of harvest might a reaper fling from him A dry oak-bough, when all the fields are parched.
And all men marvelled to behold how far Flew from his hand the bronze which scarce two men Hard-straining had uplifted from the ground.
Even this Antaeus' might was wont to hurl Erstwhile, ere the strong hands of Hercules O'ermastered him. This, with much spoil beside, Hercules took, and kept it to make sport For his invincible hand; but afterward Gave it to valiant Peleus, who with him Had smitten fair-towered Ilium's burg renowned;
And he to Achilles gave it, whose swift ships Bare it to Troy, to put him aye in mind Of his own father, as with eager will He fought with stalwart Trojans, and to be A worthy test wherewith to prove his strength.
Even this did Aias from his brawny hand Fling far. So then the Nereid gave to him The glorious arms from godlike Memnon stripped.
Marvelling the Argives gazed on them: they were A giant's war-gear. Laughing a glad laugh That man renowned received them: he alone Could wear them on his brawny limbs; they seemed As they had even been moulded to his frame.
The great bar thence he bore withal, to be His joy when he was fain of athlete-toil.
Still sped the contests on; and many rose Now for the leaping. Far beyond the marks Of all the rest brave Agapenor sprang:
Loud shouted all for that victorious leap;
And Thetis gave him the fair battle-gear Of mighty Cycnus, who had smitten first Protesilaus, then had reft the life From many more, till Peleus' son slew him First of the chiefs of grief-enshrouded Troy.
Next, in the javelin-cast Euryalus Hurled far beyond all rivals, while the folk Shouted aloud: no archer, so they deemed, Could speed a winged shaft farther than his cast;
