Poseidon, rider of the wild sea-drift,Tamed them, men say, and gave them for his giftTo Peleus.—None the less, since I have stirredHopes, 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 fineThan all in Troy.—Grudge me not that; there beGuerdons 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,A greatness, to be wooed of kings.If God but hearken to the right,Thou drinkest to the full this nightThe 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 findAt home some body-shelter to my mind;Then, forward to the ships of Argolis!LEADER.What other raiment wilt thou need than this?