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Translated by R. Jebb.
71 Pages
Page 30
Seeing this, the wary charioteer from Athens drew aside and paused,
allowing the billow of chariots, surging in mid course, to go by.
Orestes was driving last, keeping his horses behind,- for his trust
was in the end; but when he saw that the Athenian was alone left in,
he sent a shrill cry ringing through the ears of his swift colts,
and gave chase. Team was brought level with team, and so they raced,-first
one man, then the other. showing his head in front of the chariots.
Hitherto the ill-fated Orestes had passed safely through every round,
steadfast in his steadfast car; at last, slackening his left rein
while the horse was turning, unawares he struck the edge of the pillar;
he broke the axle-box in twain; he was thrown over the chariot-rail;
he was caught in the shapely reins; and, as he fell on the ground,
his colts were scattered into the middle of the course.
But when the people saw him fallen from the car, a cry of pity went
up for the youth, who had done such deeds and was meeting such a doom,-
now dashed to earth, now tossed feet uppermost to the sky,- till the
charioteers, with difficulty checking the career of his horses, loosed
him, so covered with blood that no friend who saw it would have known
the hapless corpse. Straightway they burned it on a pyre; and chosen
men of Phocis are bringing in a small urn of bronze the sad dust of
that mighty form, to find due burial in his fatherland.
Such is my story,- grievous to hear, if words can grieve; but for
us, who beheld, the greatest of sorrows that these eyes have seen.
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