'Fore God, I am thy rival, if thy love
Lies there. Undying was the breed thereof,
And these shall never die, who bear to war
Great Peleus' son, swift gleaming like a star.
Poseidon, rider of the wild sea-drift,
Tamed them, men say, and gave them for his gift
To Peleus.—None the less, since I have stirred
Hopes, I will baulk them not. I pledge my word,
Achilles' steeds, a rare prize, shall be thine.
Dolon.
I thank thee.—'Tis indeed a prize more fine
Than all in Troy.—Grudge me not that; there be
Guerdons abundant for a Prince like thee.
[Exit Hector.
Chorus. [Antistr.
O peril strange, O fearful prize!
Yet win it and thy life hath wings:
A deed of glory in men's eyes,
And greatness, to be wooed of kings.
If God but hearken to the right,
Thou drinkest to the full this night
The cup of man's imaginings.
Dolon.
[He stands waiting a moment looking out into the dark.
There lies the way.—But first I must go find
At home some body-shelter to my mind;
Then, forward to the ships of Argolis!