Still edging near, and bears him toward the steep. Atrides, trembling, casts his eye below, And wonders at the rashness of his foe. "Hold, stay your steeds--What madness thus to ride This narrow way! take larger field (he cried), Or both must fall."--Atrides cried in vain; He flies more fast, and throws up all the rein. Far as an able arm the disk can send, When youthful rivals their full force extend, So far, Antilochus! thy chariot flew Before the king: he, cautious, backward drew His horse compell'd; foreboding in his fears The rattling ruin of the clashing cars, The floundering coursers rolling on the plain, And conquest lost through frantic haste to gain. But thus upbraids his rival as he flies: "Go, furious youth! ungenerous and unwise! Go, but expect not I'll the prize resign; Add perjury to fraud, and make it thine--" Then to his steeds with all his force he cries, "Be swift, be vigorous, and regain the prize! Your rivals, destitute of youthful force, With fainting knees shall labour in the course, And yield the glory yours."--The steeds obey; Already at their heels they wing their way, And seem already to retrieve the day. Meantime the Grecians in a ring beheld The coursers bounding o'er the dusty field. The first who mark'd them was the Cretan king; High on a rising ground, above the ring, The monarch sat: from whence with sure survey He well observed the chief who led the way, And heard from far his animating cries, And saw the foremost steed with sharpen'd eyes; On whose broad front a blaze of shining white, Like the full moon, stood obvious to the sight. He saw; and rising, to the Greeks begun: "Are yonder horse discern'd by me alone? Or can ye, all, another chief survey, And other steeds than lately led the way? Those, though the swiftest, by some god withheld, Lie sure disabled in the middle field: For, since the goal they doubled, round the plain I search to fin