There Proreus, Nautes, Eratreus appear, When clad in wrath he withers hosts of foes: 120 Or equall'd by Laodamas alone. 135 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 th' illustrious labours of the field: I deem him brave; then grant the brave man's claim, Invite the hero to his share of fame. 145 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: 150 Dire is the ocean, dread in all its forms! Well hast thou spoke (Euryalus replies), Vouchsafes the rev'rend 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. 160 To fame arise! for what more fame can yield To whom with sighs Ulysses gave reply: 176 Wide wanders, Laodam, thy erring tongue, The sports of glory to the brave belong (Retorts Euryalus): he boasts no claim Among the great, unlike the sons of fame. A wand'ring inerchant he frequents the main, Some mean sea-farer in pursuit of gain; Studious of freight, in naval trade well skill'd, But dreads th' athletic labours of the field. Incens'd Ulysses with a frown replies : forward to proclaim thy soul unwise! 180 184 With partial hands the gods their gifts dispense; 201 205 A post of honour with the sons of fame: "Such was my boast while vigour crown'd my days, Now care surrounds me, and my force decays; Inur'd a melancholy part to bear, In scenes of death, by tempest and by war. Yet thus by woes impair'd, no more I wave To prove the hero.-Slander stings the brave. Then striding forward with a furious bound, He wrench'd a rocky fragment from the ground. By far more pond'rous, and more huge by far, 211 Than what Phæacia's sons discharg'd in air. Fierce from his arm th' enormous load he flings; Sonorous through the shaded air it sings: Couch'd to the earth, tempestuous as it flies, 215 The crowd gaze upward while it cleaves the skies. Beyond all marks, with many a giddy round Down rushing, it up-turns a hill of ground. That instant Pallas, bursting from a cloud, Fix'd a distinguish'd mark, and cried aloud: 220 E'en he who sightless wants his visual ray, May by his touch alone award the day : Thy signal throw transcends the utmost bound Of ev'ry champion by a length of ground: Securely bid the strongest of the train Arise to throw: the strongest throws in vain. She spoke; and momentary mounts the sky: The friendly voice Ulysses hears with joy; Then thus aloud (elate with decent pride): Rise, ye Phæacians, try your force, he cried; 230 If with this throw the strongest caster vie, Still, further still, I bid the discus fly. 225 |