Orestes
the last, but high in hope
Foremost to reach the goal: but when he saw
One only left his rival for the prize,
With sharper voice he cheer'd his flying mares,
And follow'd close. Now side by side they drove,
Now one, the other now, his coursers' heads-
Push'd forward. All his other courses safe
Now pass'd, firm in his car, its wheels erect,
Orestes on the left relax'd the rein,
And, as his courser round the pillar wheel'd,
Dash'd unawares against it; in the nave
The axle broke, and roll'd him o'er the car
Entangled in the reins: his steeds uncheck'd
Break forth at large, and bound amidst the course.
But when th' assembly saw him from the car
Hurl'd headlong, they with cries deplored the youth,
His gallant actions, and his hapless fate,
As low his head was trail'd along the ground.
And now th' attendant train, his fiery steeds
Scarce check'd, unbound him so deform'd with gore
That not a friend could know the mangled corse.
The funeral pile was raised, the body burn'd,
And to some Phocians is the charge assign'd
With speed to his paternal land to bear
The poor cold ashes of the mighty man
Closed in a narrow urn, that this dear land,
Which gave him birth, may bear his honour'd tomb.
