Classic Poem

THE CONTEST WITH THE BOW .

Thence Æneas invites all comers to feats of the bow;
Places the prizes in view; with his own strong hand from below
Lifts from the ship of Serestus a mast. On its summit in air
Hangs, as a mark for the archers, a dove made fast in a snare.
Yonder the concourse gathers. The lots in a helmet are flung;
First from the brass amid shouts thy name, Hippocoon, sprung;
Mnestheus second — in race of the vessels victor but now —
Still with the garland green of an olive bound on his brow;
Third Eurytion; brother of thine, bright archer of Troy,
Pandarus, chosen of old by a goddess the truce to destroy,
First upon Danaan ranks that day thine arrow to cast.
Buried deep in the helmet Acestes lay to the last,
Ready to vie with the youths, though a veteran. Each one strings
Cord to the bow, from the quiver himself the artillery brings.
First from the twanging thong Hippocoon's arrow impelled
Cleaves as a lash the divided skies, then strikes and is held
Fast in the timber; the stricken mast-tree shakes, and the bird
Flutters with fear: all round them her pinions flapping are heard.
Next keen Mnestheus placed him, his bowstring drawn to the breast,
Levelled his eye and his weapon, his keen glance upward addrest:
Failed in an evil hour to the dove herself to attain,
Broke with his shaft but her fetters, the hempen cords of the chain,
Where by her captive feet from the masthead lofty she hung.
Into the breezes she flew, to the dark clouds rapidly sprung.
Now with his bow to the bolt-head drawn and his arrow displayed,
Swift as a thought to his brother a prayer Eurytion prayed;
Eyed her in clear sky sailing, with joy escaping the dart,
Under a dark cloud flapping her wings — then pierced to her heart.
Breathless she fell, amid heaven's bright stars left life, and restored
Home, as she downwards floated, the fatal bolt to its lord.
Only Acestes now was remaining, hope of a prize
Gone, yet his arrow he still sent forth to the heavenly skies,
Proudly displaying an old man's art and his resonant bow.
Sudden a sign was revealed them, as later chronicles show,
Full of an awful omen; a great woe pointed the tale;
Prophets of doom long after proclaimed its meaning of bale.
Lo! as it rose through cloudlets of glory, the reed took fire,
Printing in flames its flight, then, vanishing, seemed to expire
Lost on the viewless winds, as the stars unfixt from the sky
Shoot full often across it, and bright hair trails as they fly.
Awed the Sicilians stood at the sign, and the warriors of Troy,
Praying the Gods immortal; the great Æneas with joy
Hails it as omen fair, then folds in a loving embrace
Happy Acestes, and loads him with gifts excelling in grace.
" Take them, " he cries, " O father, for by this marvellous sign
Heaven's high monarch decrees that especial honours be thine.
Take what once was bestowed on Anchises aged and gray —
This great bowl, all graven with figures, which in his day
Thracian Cisseus gave him, a royal gift and a sure,
Token and pledge of the love that he bare him, long to endure. "
Then he encircled his brows with the bay-tree green, and addrest
Royal Acestes as victor beyond all others confest.
Naught Eurytion gentle of him who is chosen complains,
Though 't was his own good arrow the dove from the skies that had cast.
Second in order of honour the brave who sundered her chains.
He who spitted the pole with his feathered reed is the last.