The Daily Odyssey: April 17
Ranged in a line the ready racers stand,
Start from the goal, and vanish o’er the strand:
Swift as on wings of winds, upborne they fly,
And drifts of rising dust involve the sky.
Before the rest, what space the hinds allow
Between the mule and ox, from plough to plough,
Clytonius sprung: he wing’d the rapid way,
And bore the unrivall’d honours of the day.
With fierce embrace the brawny wrestlers join;
The conquest, great Euryalus, is thine.
Amphialus sprung forward with a bound,
Superior in the leap, a length of ground.
From Elatreus’ strong arm the discus flies,
And sings with unmatch’d force along the skies.
And Laodam whirls high, with dreadful sway,
The gloves of death, victorious in the fray.
While thus the peerage in the games contends,
In act to speak, Laodamas ascends.
“O friends (he cries), the stranger seems well skill’d
To try the illustrious labours of the field:
I deem him brave: then grant the brave man’s claim,
Invite the hero to his share of fame.
What nervous arms he boasts! how firm his tread!
His limbs how turn’d! how broad his shoulders spread!
By age unbroke!—but all-consuming care
Destroys perhaps the strength that time would spare:
Dire is the ocean, dread in all its forms!
Man must decay when man contends with storms.”
“Well hast thou spoke (Euryalus replies):
Thine is the guest, invite him thou to rise.”
Swift as the word, advancing from the crowd,
He made obeisance, and thus spoke aloud:
“Vouchsafes the reverend stranger to display
His manly worth, and share the glorious day?
Father, arise! for thee thy port proclaims
Expert to conquer in the solemn games.
To fame arise! for what more fame can yield
Than the swift race, or conflict of the field?
Steal from corroding care one transient day,
To glory give the space thou hast to stay;
Short is the time, and lo! e’en now the gales
Call thee aboard, and stretch the swelling sails.”