mark the racers, and to judge the race. At once the coursers from the barrier bound; The lifted scourges all at once resound; Their heart, their eyes, their voice, they send before; And up the champaign thunder from the shore: Thick, where they drive, the dusty clouds arise, And the lost courser in the whirlwind flies; Loose on their shoulders the long manes reclined, Float in their speed, and dance upon the wind: The smoking chariots, rapid as they bound, Now seem to touch the sky, and now the ground. While hot for fame, and conquest all their care, (Each o'er his flying courser hung in air,) Erect with ardour, poised upon the rein, They pant, they stretch, they shout along the plain. Now (the last compass fetch'd around the goal) At the near prize each gathers all his soul, Each burns with double hope, with double pain, Tears up the shore, and thunders toward the main. First flew Eumelus on Pheretian steeds; With those of Tros bold Diomed succeeds: Close on Eumelus' back they puff the wind, And seem just mounting on his car behind; Full on his neck he feels the sultry breeze, And, hovering o'er, their stretching shadows sees. Then had he lost, or left a doubtful prize; But angry Phoebus to Tydides flies, Strikes from his hand the scourge, and renders vain His matchless horses' labour on the plain. Rage fills his eye with anguish, to survey Snatch'd from his hope the glories of the day. The fraud celestial Pallas sees with pain, Springs to her knight, and gives the scourge again, And fills his steeds with vigour. At a stroke She breaks his rival's chariot from the yoke: No more their way the startled horses held; The car reversed came rattling on the field; Shot headlong from his seat, beside the wheel, Prone on the dust the unhappy master fell; His batter'd face and elbows strike the ground; Nose, mouth, and front, one undistinguish'd wound: Grief stops his voice, a torrent drowns h