A miserable race! But cease to mourn!
For not by you shall Priam’s son be borne
High on the splendid car; one glorious prize
He rashly boasts; the rest our will denies.
Ourself will swiftness to your nerves impart,
Ourself with rising spirits swell your heart.
Automedon your rapid flight shall bear
Safe to the navy through the storm of war.…”
He said; and, breathing in th’ immortal horse
Excessive spirit, urged them to the course;