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Translated by E. Coleridge.
80 pages - You are on Page 9
Through the grove of-Artemis, rich with sacrifice, I sped my course,
the red blush mantling on my cheeks from maiden modesty, in my eagerness
to see the soldiers' camp, the tents of the mail-clad Danai, and their
gathered steeds. Two chieftains there I saw met together in council;
one was Aias, son of Oileus; the other Aias, son of Telamon, crown
of glory to the men of Salamis; and I saw Protesilaus and Palamedes,
sprung from the son of Poseidon, sitting there amusing themselves
with intricate figures at draughts; Diomedes too at his favourite
sport of hurling quoits; and Meriones, the War-god's son, a marvel
to mankind, stood at his side; likewise I beheld the offspring of
Laertes, who came from his island hills, and with him Nireus, handsomest
of all Achaeans; Achilles next, that nimble runner, swift on his feet
as the wind, whom Thetis bore and Chiron trained; him I saw upon the
beach, racing in full armour along the shingle and straining every
nerve to beat a team of four horses, as he sped round the track on
foot; and Eumelus, the grandson of Pheres, their driver, was shouting
when I saw him. goading on his goodly steeds, with their bits of chased
goldwork; whereof the centre pair, that bore the yoke, had dappled
coats picked out with white, while the trace-horses, on the outside,
facing the turning-post in the course, were bays with spotted fetlocks.
Close beside them Peleus' son leapt on his way, in all his harness,
keeping abreast the rail by the axle-box.
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