Of whom few were what Caesar's wife should be.
The athletes' prizes all were rich and rare,
Some costly emblem of their several arts.
The archers' prizes all were bows; the first
Made from the horns of a great mountain-goat
That long had ranged the Himalayan heights,
Till some bold hunter climbed his giddy cliffs
And brought his unsuspecting victim down.
His lofty horns the bowsmith root to root
Had firmly joined, and polished, bright,
And tipped with finest gold, and made a bow
Worthy of Sinhahamu's[1] mighty arm.
The other prizes, bows of lesser strength
But better suited to their weaker arms.
A chariot, the charioteers' first prize,[2]
Its slender hubs made strong with brazen bands,
The spokes of whitest ivory polished bright,
The fellies ebony, with tires of bronze,
Each axle's end a brazen tiger's head,
The body woven of slender bamboo shoots
Intwined with silver wire and decked with gold.
A mare and colt of the victorious breed
The second prize, more worth in Timour's eyes.
Than forty chariots, though each were made
Of ebony or ivory or gold,
And all the laurel India ever grew.
The third, a tunic of soft Cashmere wool,
On which, by skillful needles deftly wrought,
The race itself as if in life stood forth.
The fourth, a belt to gird the laggard's loins