Read Ebook: The Fall of Troy by Quintus Smyrnaeus Active Th Century Way Arthur S Arthur Sanders Translator

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BOOK

BOOK I:

How died for Troy the Queen of the Amazons, Penthesileia.

When godlike Hector by Peleides slain Passed, and the pyre had ravined up his flesh, And earth had veiled his bones, the Trojans then Tarried in Priam's city, sore afraid Before the might of stout-heart Aeacus' son: As kine they were, that midst the copses shrink From faring forth to meet a lion grim, But in dense thickets terror-huddled cower; So in their fortress shivered these to see That mighty man. Of those already dead They thought of all whose lives he reft away As by Scamander's outfall on he rushed, And all that in mid-flight to that high wall He slew, how he quelled Hector, how he haled His corse round Troy;--yea, and of all beside Laid low by him since that first day whereon O'er restless seas he brought the Trojans doom. Ay, all these they remembered, while they stayed Thus in their town, and o'er them anguished grief Hovered dark-winged, as though that very day All Troy with shrieks were crumbling down in fire.

Then from Thermodon, from broad-sweeping streams, Came, clothed upon with beauty of Goddesses, Penthesileia--came athirst indeed For groan-resounding battle, but yet more Fleeing abhorred reproach and evil fame, Lest they of her own folk should rail on her Because of her own sister's death, for whom Ever her sorrows waxed, Hippolyte, Whom she had struck dead with her mighty spear, Not of her will--'twas at a stag she hurled. So came she to the far-famed land of Troy. Yea, and her warrior spirit pricked her on, Of murder's dread pollution thus to cleanse Her soul, and with such sacrifice to appease The Awful Ones, the Erinnyes, who in wrath For her slain sister straightway haunted her Unseen: for ever round the sinner's steps They hover; none may 'scape those Goddesses. And with her followed twelve beside, each one A princess, hot for war and battle grim, Far-famous each, yet handmaids unto her: Penthesileia far outshone them all. As when in the broad sky amidst the stars The moon rides over all pre-eminent, When through the thunderclouds the cleaving heavens Open, when sleep the fury-breathing winds; So peerless was she mid that charging host. Clonie was there, Polemusa, Derinoe, Evandre, and Antandre, and Bremusa, Hippothoe, dark-eyed Harmothoe, Alcibie, Derimacheia, Antibrote, And Thermodosa glorying with the spear. All these to battle fared with warrior-souled Penthesileia: even as when descends Dawn from Olympus' crest of adamant, Dawn, heart-exultant in her radiant steeds Amidst the bright-haired Hours; and o'er them all, How flawless-fair soever these may be, Her splendour of beauty glows pre-eminent; So peerless amid all the Amazons Unto Troy-town Penthesileia came. To right, to left, from all sides hurrying thronged The Trojans, greatly marvelling, when they saw The tireless War-god's child, the mailed maid, Like to the Blessed Gods; for in her face Glowed beauty glorious and terrible. Her smile was ravishing: beneath her brows Her love-enkindling eyes shone like to stars, And with the crimson rose of shamefastness Bright were her cheeks, and mantled over them Unearthly grace with battle-prowess clad.

Then joyed Troy's folk, despite past agonies, As when, far-gazing from a height, the hinds Behold a rainbow spanning the wide sea, When they be yearning for the heaven-sent shower, When the parched fields be craving for the rain; Then the great sky at last is overgloomed, And men see that fair sign of coming wind And imminent rain, and seeing, they are glad, Who for their corn-fields' plight sore sighed before; Even so the sons of Troy when they beheld There in their land Penthesileia dread Afire for battle, were exceeding glad; For when the heart is thrilled with hope of good, All smart of evils past is wiped away: So, after all his sighing and his pain, Gladdened a little while was Priam's soul. As when a man who hath suffered many a pang From blinded eyes, sore longing to behold The light, and, if he may not, fain would die, Then at the last, by a cunning leech's skill, Or by a God's grace, sees the dawn-rose flush, Sees the mist rolled back from before his eyes,-- Yea, though clear vision come not as of old, Yet, after all his anguish, joys to have Some small relief, albeit the stings of pain Prick sharply yet beneath his eyelids;--so Joyed the old king to see that terrible queen-- The shadowy joy of one in anguish whelmed For slain sons. Into his halls he led the Maid, And with glad welcome honoured her, as one Who greets a daughter to her home returned From a far country in the twentieth year; And set a feast before her, sumptuous As battle-glorious kings, who have brought low Nations of foes, array in splendour of pomp, With hearts in pride of victory triumphing. And gifts he gave her costly and fair to see, And pledged him to give many more, so she Would save the Trojans from the imminent doom. And she such deeds she promised as no man Had hoped for, even to lay Achilles low, To smite the wide host of the Argive men, And cast the brands red-flaming on the ships. Ah fool!--but little knew she him, the lord Of ashen spears, how far Achilles' might In warrior-wasting strife o'erpassed her own!

But when Andromache, the stately child Of king Eetion, heard the wild queen's vaunt, Low to her own soul bitterly murmured she: "Ah hapless! why with arrogant heart dost thou Speak such great swelling words? No strength is thine To grapple in fight with Peleus' aweless son. Nay, doom and swift death shall he deal to thee. Alas for thee! What madness thrills thy soul? Fate and the end of death stand hard by thee! Hector was mightier far to wield the spear Than thou, yet was for all his prowess slain, Slain for the bitter grief of Troy, whose folk The city through looked on him as a God. My glory and his noble parents' glory Was he while yet he lived--O that the earth Over my dead face had been mounded high, Or ever through his throat the breath of life Followed the cleaving spear! But now have I Looked--woe is me!--on grief unutterable, When round the city those fleet-footed steeds Haled him, steeds of Achilles, who had made Me widowed of mine hero-husband, made My portion bitterness through all my days."

So spake Eetion's lovely-ankled child Low to her own soul, thinking on her lord. So evermore the faithful-hearted wife Nurseth for her lost love undying grief.

Then in swift revolution sweeping round Into the Ocean's deep stream sank the sun, And daylight died. So when the banqueters Ceased from the wine-cup and the goodly feast, Then did the handmaids spread in Priam's halls For Penthesileia dauntless-souled the couch Heart-cheering, and she laid her down to rest; And slumber mist-like overveiled her eyes Shouted, a threat that could not be fulfilled: "Who shot at me a stealthy-smiting shaft? Let him but dare to meet me face to face! So shall his blood and all his bowels gush out About my spear, and he be hellward sped! I know that none can meet me man to man And quell in fight--of earth-born heroes none, Though such an one should bear within his breast A heart unquailing, and have thews of brass. But dastards still in stealthy ambush lurk For lives of heroes. Let him face me then!-- Ay! though he be a God whose anger burns Against the Danaans! Yea, mine heart forebodes That this my smiter was Apollo, cloaked In deadly darkness. So in days gone by My mother told me how that by his shafts I was to die before the Scaean Gates A piteous death. Her words were not vain words."

Then with unflinching hands from out the wound Incurable he drew the deadly shaft In agonized pain. Forth gushed the blood; his heart Waxed faint beneath the shadow of coming doom. Then in indignant wrath he hurled from him The arrow: a sudden gust of wind swept by, And caught it up, and, even as he trod Zeus' threshold, to Apollo gave it back; For it beseemed not that a shaft divine, Sped forth by an Immortal, should be lost. He unto high Olympus swiftly came, To the great gathering of immortal Gods, Where all assembled watched the war of men, These longing for the Trojans' triumph, those For Danaan victory; so with diverse wills Watched they the strife, the slayers and the slain.

So Hera spake, in bitterness of soul Upbraiding, but he answered her not a word, Of reverence for his mighty Father's bride; Nor could he lift his eyes to meet her eyes, But sat abashed, aloof from all the Gods Eternal, while in unforgiving wrath Scowled on him all the Immortals who maintained The Danaans' cause; but such as fain would bring Triumph to Troy, these with exultant hearts Extolled him, hiding it from Hera's eyes, Before whose wrath all Heaven-abiders shrank.

But Peleus' son the while forgat not yet War's fury: still in his invincible limbs The hot blood throbbed, and still he longed for fight. Was none of all the Trojans dared draw nigh The stricken hero, but at distance stood, As round a wounded lion hunters stand Mid forest-brakes afraid, and, though the shaft Stands in his heart, yet faileth not in him His royal courage, but with terrible glare Roll his fierce eyes, and roar his grimly jaws; So wrath and anguish of his deadly hurt To fury stung Peleides' soul; but aye His strength ebbed through the god-envenomed wound. Yet leapt he up, and rushed upon the foe, And flashed the lightning of his lance; it slew The goodly Orythaon, comrade stout Of Hector, through his temples crashing clear: His helm stayed not the long lance fury-sped Which leapt therethrough, and won within the bones The heart of the brain, and spilt his lusty life. Then stabbed he 'neath the brow Hipponous Even to the eye-roots, that the eyeball fell To earth: his soul to Hades flitted forth. Then through the jaw he pierced Alcathous, And shore away his tongue: in dust he fell Gasping his life out, and the spear-head shot Out through his ear. These, as they rushed on him, That hero slew; but many a fleer's life He spilt, for in his heart still leapt the blood.

But when his limbs grew chill, and ebbed away His spirit, leaning on his spear he stood, While still the Trojans fled in huddled rout Of panic, and he shouted unto them: "Trojan and Dardan cravens, ye shall not Even in my death, escape my merciless spear, But unto mine Avenging Spirits ye Shall pay--ay, one and all--destruction's debt!"

He spake; they heard and quailed: as mid the hills Fawns tremble at a lion's deep-mouthed roar, And terror-stricken flee the monster, so The ranks of Trojan chariot-lords, the lines Of battle-helpers drawn from alien lands, Quailed at the last shout of Achilles, deemed That he was woundless yet. But 'neath the weight Of doom his aweless heart, his mighty limbs, At last were overborne. Down midst the dead He fell, as fails a beetling mountain-cliff. Earth rang beneath him: clanged with a thundercrash His arms, as Peleus' son the princely fell. And still his foes with most exceeding dread Stared at him, even as, when some murderous beast Lies slain by shepherds, tremble still the sheep Eyeing him, as beside the fold he lies, And shrinking, as they pass him, far aloof And, even as he were living, fear him dead; So feared they him, Achilles now no more.

So hurled he forth a vain word, knowing not How far in might above him was the man Whom his spear threatened. Battle-bider Aias Darkly and scornfully glaring on him, said "Thou craven wretch, and knowest thou not this, How much was Hector mightier than thou In war-craft? yet before my might, my spear, He shrank. Ay, with his valour was there blent Discretion. Thou thy thoughts are deathward set, Who dar'st defy me to the battle, me, A mightier far than thou! Thou canst not say That friendship of our fathers thee shall screen; Nor me thy gifts shall wile to let thee pass Scatheless from war, as once did Tydeus' son. Though thou didst 'scape his fury, will not I Suffer thee to return alive from war. Ha, in thy many helpers dost thou trust Who with thee, like so many worthless flies, Flit round the noble Achilles' corpse? To these Death and black doom shall my swift onset deal."

Ceaselessly wailed the Myrmidons Achilles, A ring of mourners round the kingly dead, That kind heart, friend alike to each and all, To no man arrogant nor hard of mood, But ever tempering strength with courtesy.

So he in grief lamented Peleus' son. Then ancient Phoenix made heart-stricken moan, Clasping the noble form of Aeacus' seed, And in wild anguish wailed the wise of heart: "Thou art reft from me, dear child, and cureless pain Hast left to me! Oh that upon my face The veiling earth had fallen, ere I saw Thy bitter doom! No pang more terrible Hath ever stabbed mine heart no, not that hour Of exile, when I fled from fatherland And noble parents, fleeing Hellas through, Till Peleus welcomed me with gifts, and lord Of his Dolopians made me. In his arms Thee through his halls one day he bare, and set Upon my knees, and bade me foster thee, His babe, with all love, as mine own dear child: I hearkened to him: blithely didst thou cling About mine heart, and, babbling wordless speech, Didst call me `father' oft, and didst bedew My breast and tunic with thy baby lips. Ofttimes with soul that laughed for glee I held Thee in mine arms; for mine heart whispered me `This fosterling through life shall care for thee, Staff of thine age shall be.' And that mine hope Was for a little while fulfilled; but now Thou hast vanished into darkness, and to me Is left long heart-ache wild with all regret. Ah, might my sorrow slay me, ere the tale To noble Peleus come! When on his ears Falleth the heavy tidings, he shall weep And wail without surcease. Most piteous grief We twain for thy sake shall inherit aye, Thy sire and I, who, ere our day of doom, Mourning shall go down to the grave for thee-- Ay, better this than life unholpen of thee!"

So moaned his ever-swelling tide of grief. And Atreus' son beside him mourned and wept With heart on fire with inly smouldering pain: "Thou hast perished, chiefest of the Danaan men, Hast perished, and hast left the Achaean host Fenceless! Now thou art fallen, are they left An easier prey to foes. Thou hast given joy To Trojans by thy fall, who dreaded thee As sheep a lion. These with eager hearts Even to the ships will bring the battle now. Zeus, Father, thou too with deceitful words Beguilest mortals! Thou didst promise me That Priam's burg should be destroyed; but now That promise given dost thou not fulfil, But thou didst cheat mine heart: I shall not win The war's goal, now Achilles is no more."

And on their mourning soon black night had come, But spake unto Atreides Neleus' son, Nestor, whose own heart bare its load of grief Remembering his own son Antilochus: "O mighty Agamemnon, sceptre-lord Of Argives, from wide-shrilling lamentation Refrain we for this day. None shall withhold Hereafter these from all their heart's desire Of weeping and lamenting many days. But now go to, from aweless Aeacus' son Wash we the foul blood-gouts, and lay we him Upon a couch: unseemly it is to shame The dead by leaving them untended long."

So counselled Neleus' son, the passing-wise. Then hasted he his men, and bade them set Caldrons of cold spring-water o'er the flames, And wash the corse, and clothe in vesture fair, Sea-purple, which his mother gave her son At his first sailing against Troy. With speed They did their lord's command: with loving care, All service meetly rendered, on a couch Laid they the mighty fallen, Peleus' son.

The Trito-born, the passing-wise, beheld And pitied him, and showered upon his head Ambrosia, which hath virtue aye to keep Taintless, men say, the flesh of warriors slain. Like softly-breathing sleeper dewy-fresh She made him: over that dead face she drew A stern frown, even as when he lay, with wrath Darkening his grim face, clasping his slain friend Patroclus; and she made his frame to be More massive, like a war-god to behold. And wonder seized the Argives, as they thronged And saw the image of a living man, Where all the stately length of Peleus' son Lay on the couch, and seemed as though he slept.

Around him all the woeful captive-maids, Whom he had taken for a prey, what time He had ravaged hallowed Lemnos, and had scaled The towered crags of Thebes, Eetion's town, Wailed, as they stood and rent their fair young flesh, And smote their breasts, and from their hearts bemoaned That lord of gentleness and courtesy, Who honoured even the daughters of his foes. And stricken most of all with heart-sick pain Briseis, hero Achilles' couchmate, bowed Over the dead, and tore her fair young flesh With ruthless fingers, shrieking: her soft breast Was ridged with gory weals, so cruelly She smote it thou hadst said that crimson blood Had dripped on milk. Yet, in her griefs despite, Her winsome loveliness shone out, and grace Hung like a veil about her, as she wailed: "Woe for this grief passing all griefs beside! Never on me came anguish like to this Not when my brethren died, my fatherland Was wasted--like this anguish for thy death! Thou wast my day, my sunlight, my sweet life, Mine hope of good, my strong defence from harm, Dearer than all my beauty--yea, more dear Than my lost parents! Thou wast all in all To me, thou only, captive though I be. Thou tookest from me every bondmaid's task And like a wife didst hold me. Ah, but now Me shall some new Achaean master bear To fertile Sparta, or to thirsty Argos. The bitter cup of thraldom shall I drain, Severed, ah me, from thee! Oh that the earth Had veiled my dead face ere I saw thy doom!"

So for slain Peleus' son did she lament With woeful handmaids and heart-anguished Greeks, Mourning a king, a husband. Never dried Her tears were: ever to the earth they streamed Like sunless water trickling from a rock While rime and snow yet mantle o'er the earth Above it; yet the frost melts down before The east-wind and the flame-shafts of the sun.

Now came the sound of that upringing wail To Nereus' Daughters, dwellers in the depths Unfathomed. With sore anguish all their hearts Were smitten: piteously they moaned: their cry Shivered along the waves of Hellespont. Then with dark mantles overpalled they sped Swiftly to where the Argive men were thronged. As rushed their troop up silver paths of sea, The flood disported round them as they came. With one wild cry they floated up; it rang, A sound as when fleet-flying cranes forebode A great storm. Moaned the monsters of the deep Plaintively round that train of mourners. Fast On sped they to their goal, with awesome cry Wailing the while their sister's mighty son. Swiftly from Helicon the Muses came Heart-burdened with undying grief, for love And honour to the Nereid starry-eyed.

Then Zeus with courage filled the Argive men, That-eyes of flesh might undismayed behold That glorious gathering of Goddesses. Then those Divine Ones round Achilles' corse Pealed forth with one voice from immortal lips A lamentation. Rang again the shores Of Hellespont. As rain upon the earth Their tears fell round the dead man, Aeacus' son; For out of depths of sorrow rose their moan. And all the armour, yea, the tents, the ships Of that great sorrowing multitude were wet With tears from ever-welling springs of grief. His mother cast her on him, clasping him, And kissed her son's lips, crying through her tears: "Now let the rosy-vestured Dawn in heaven Exult! Now let broad-flowing Axius Exult, and for Asteropaeus dead Put by his wrath! Let Priam's seed be glad But I unto Olympus will ascend, And at the feet of everlasting Zeus Will cast me, bitterly planning that he gave Me, an unwilling bride, unto a man-- A man whom joyless eld soon overtook, To whom the Fates are near, with death for gift. Yet not so much for his lot do I grieve As for Achilles; for Zeus promised me To make him glorious in the Aeacid halls, In recompense for the bridal I so loathed That into wild wind now I changed me, now To water, now in fashion as a bird I was, now as the blast of flame; nor might A mortal win me for his bride, who seemed All shapes in turn that earth and heaven contain, Until the Olympian pledged him to bestow A godlike son on me, a lord of war. Yea, in a manner this did he fulfil Faithfully; for my son was mightiest Of men. But Zeus made brief his span of life Unto my sorrow. Therefore up to heaven Will I: to Zeus's mansion will I go And wail my son, and will put Zeus in mind Of all my travail for him and his sons In their sore stress, and sting his soul with shame."

So in her wisdom spake Calliope. Then plunged the sun down into Ocean's stream, And sable-vestured Night came floating up O'er the wide firmament, and brought her boon Of sleep to sorrowing mortals. On the sands There slept they, all the Achaean host, with heads Bowed 'neath the burden of calamity. But upon Thetis sleep laid not his hand: Still with the deathless Nereids by the sea She sate; on either side the Muses spake One after other comfortable words To make that sorrowing heart forget its pain.

Then, when all things were set in readiness About the pyre, all, footmen, charioteers, Compassed that woeful bale, clashing their arms, While, from the viewless heights Olympian, Zeus Rained down ambrosia on dead Aeacus' son. For honour to the Goddess, Nereus' child, He sent to Aeolus Hermes, bidding him Summon the sacred might of his swift winds, For that the corpse of Aeacus' son must now Be burned. With speed he went, and Aeolus Refused not: the tempestuous North in haste He summoned, and the wild blast of the West; And to Troy sped they on their whirlwind wings. Fast in mad onrush, fast across the deep They darted; roared beneath them as they flew The sea, the land; above crashed thunder-voiced Clouds headlong hurtling through the firmament. Then by decree of Zeus down on the pyre Of slain Achilles, like a charging host Swooped they; upleapt the Fire-god's madding breath: Uprose a long wail from the Myrmidons. Then, though with whirlwind rushes toiled the winds, All day, all night, they needs must fan the flames Ere that death-pyre burned out. Up to the heavens Vast-volumed rolled the smoke. The huge tree-trunks Groaned, writhing, bursting, in the heat, and dropped The dark-grey ash all round. So when the winds Had tirelessly fulfilled their mighty task, Back to their cave they rode cloud-charioted.

Then, when the fire had last of all consumed That hero-king, when all the steeds, the men Slain round the pyre had first been ravined up, With all the costly offerings laid around The mighty dead by Achaia's weeping sons, The glowing embers did the Myrmidons quench With wine. Then clear to be discerned were seen His bones; for nowise like the rest were they, But like an ancient Giant's; none beside With these were blent; for bulls and steeds, and sons Of Troy, with all that mingled hecatomb, Lay in a wide ring round his corse, and he Amidst them, flame-devoured, lay there alone. So his companions groaning gathered up His bones, and in a silver casket laid Massy and deep, and banded and bestarred With flashing gold; and Nereus' daughters shed Ambrosia over them, and precious nards For honour to Achilles: fat of kine And amber honey poured they over all. A golden vase his mother gave, the gift In old time of the Wine-god, glorious work Of the craft-master Fire-god, in the which They laid the casket that enclosed the bones Of mighty-souled Achilles. All around The Argives heaped a barrow, a giant sign, Upon a foreland's uttermost end, beside The Hellespont's deep waters, wailing loud Farewells unto the Myrmidons' hero-king.

Then from the surge of heavy-plunging seas Rose the Earth-shaker. No man saw his feet Pace up the strand, but suddenly he stood Beside the Nereid Goddesses, and spake To Thetis, yet for Achilles bowed with grief: "Refrain from endless mourning for thy son. Not with the dead shall he abide, but dwell With Gods, as doth the might of Herakles, And Dionysus ever fair. Not him Dread doom shall prison in darkness evermore, Nor Hades keep him. To the light of Zeus Soon shall he rise; and I will give to him A holy island for my gift: it lies Within the Euxine Sea: there evermore A God thy son shall be. The tribes that dwell Around shall as mine own self honour him With incense and with steam of sacrifice. Hush thy laments, vex not thine heart with grief."

Then like a wind-breath had he passed away Over the sea, when that consoling word Was spoken; and a little in her breast Revived the spirit of Thetis: and the God Brought this to pass thereafter. All the host Moved moaning thence, and came unto the ships That brought them o'er from Hellas. Then returned To Helicon the Muses: 'neath the sea, Wailing the dear dead, Nereus' Daughters sank,

BOOK IV

How in the Funeral Games of Achilles heroes contended.

Nor did the hapless Trojans leave unwept The warrior-king Hippolochus' hero-son, But laid, in front of the Dardanian gate, Upon the pyre that captain war-renowned. But him Apollo's self caught swiftly up Out of the blazing fire, and to the winds Gave him, to bear away to Lycia-land; And fast and far they bare him, 'neath the glens Of high Telandrus, to a lovely glade; And for a monument above his grave Upheaved a granite rock. The Nymphs therefrom Made gush the hallowed water of a stream For ever flowing, which the tribes of men Still call fair-fleeting Glaucus. This the gods Wrought for an honour to the Lycian king.

But for Achilles still the Argives mourned Beside the swift ships: heart-sick were they all With dolorous pain and grief. Each yearned for him As for a son; no eye in that wide host Was tearless. But the Trojans with great joy Exulted, seeing their sorrow from afar, And the great fire that spake their foe consumed. And thus a vaunting voice amidst them cried: "Now hath Cronion from his heaven vouchsafed A joy past hope unto our longing eyes, To see Achilles fallen before Troy. Now he is smitten down, the glorious hosts Of Troy, I trow, shall win a breathing-space From blood of death and from the murderous fray. Ever his heart devised the Trojans' bane; In his hands maddened aye the spear of doom With gore besprent, and none of us that faced Him in the fight beheld another dawn. But now, I wot, Achaea's valorous sons Shall flee unto their galleys shapely-prowed, Since slain Achilles lies. Ah that the might Of Hector still were here, that he might slay The Argives one and all amidst their tents!"

So in unbridled joy a Trojan cried; But one more wise and prudent answered him: "Thou deemest that yon murderous Danaan host Will straightway get them to the ships, to flee Over the misty sea. Nay, still their lust Is hot for fight: us will they nowise fear, Still are there left strong battle-eager men, As Aias, as Tydeides, Atreus' sons: Though dead Achilles be, I still fear these. Oh that Apollo Silverbow would end them! Then in that day were given to our prayers A breathing-space from war and ghastly death."

In heaven was dole among the Immortal Ones, Even all that helped the stalwart Danaans' cause. In clouds like mountains piled they veiled their heads For grief of soul. But glad those others were Who fain would speed Troy to a happy goal. Then unto Cronos' Son great Hera spake: "Zeus, Lightning-father, wherefore helpest thou Troy, all forgetful of the fair-haired bride Whom once to Peleus thou didst give to wife Midst Pelion's glens? Thyself didst bring to pass Those spousals of a Goddess: on that day All we Immortals feasted there, and gave Gifts passing-fair. All this dost thou forget, And hast devised for Hellas heaviest woe."

So spake she; but Zeus answered not a word; For pondering there he sat with burdened breast, Thinking how soon the Argives should destroy The city of Priam, thinking how himself Would visit on the victors ruin dread In war and on the great sea thunder-voiced. Such thoughts were his, ere long to be fulfilled.

Now sank the sun to Ocean's fathomless flood: O'er the dim land the infinite darkness stole, Wherein men gain a little rest from toil. Then by the ships, despite their sorrow, supped The Argives, for ye cannot thrust aside Hunger's importunate craving, when it comes Upon the breast, but straightway heavy and faint Lithe limbs become; nor is there remedy Until one satisfy this clamorous guest Therefore these ate the meat of eventide In grief for Achilles' hard necessity Constrained them all. And, when they had broken bread, Sweet sleep came on them, loosening from their frames Care's heavy chain, and quickening strength anew

But when the starry Bears had eastward turned Their heads, expectant of the uprushing light Of Helios, and when woke the Queen of Dawn, Then rose from sleep the stalwart Argive men Purposing for the Trojans death and doom. Stirred were they like the roughly-ridging sea Icarian, or as sudden-rippling corn In harvest field, what time the rushing wings Of the cloud-gathering West sweep over it; So upon Hellespont's strand the folk were stirred. And to those eager hearts cried Tydeus' son: "If we be battle-biders, friends, indeed, More fiercely fight we now the hated foe, Lest they take heart because Achilles lives No longer. Come, with armour, car, and steed Let us beset them. Glory waits our toil?"

But battle-eager Aias answering spake "Brave be thy words, and nowise idle talk, Kindling the dauntless Argive men, whose hearts Before were battle-eager, to the fight Against the Trojan men, O Tydeus' son. But we must needs abide amidst the ships Till Goddess Thetis come forth of the sea; For that her heart is purposed to set here Fair athlete-prizes for the funeral-games. This yesterday she told me, ere she plunged Into sea-depths, yea, spake to me apart From other Danaans; and, I trow, by this Her haste hath brought her nigh. Yon Trojan men, Though Peleus' son hath died, shall have small heart For battle, while myself am yet alive, And thou, and noble Atreus' son, the king."

So spake the battle-eager Tydeus' son. And lo, the Bride of Peleus gliding came Forth of the sea, like the still breath of dawn, And suddenly was with the Argive throng Where eager-faced they waited, some, that looked Soon to contend in that great athlete-strife, And some, to joy in seeing the mighty strive. Amidst that gathering Thetis sable-stoled Set down her prizes, and she summoned forth Achaea's champions: at her best they came.

Such noble strain did Neleus' son pour out Into the Argives' eager ears; and they Hearkened with ravished souls. Then in their midst He sang once more the imperishable deeds Of princely Achilles. All the mighty throng Acclaimed him with delight. From that beginning With fitly chosen words did he extol The glorious hero; how he voyaged and smote Twelve cities; how he marched o'er leagues on leagues Of land, and spoiled eleven; how he slew Telephus and Eetion's might renowned In Thebe; how his spear laid Cyenus low, Poseidon's son, and godlike Polydorus, Troilus the goodly, princely Asteropaeus; And how he dyed with blood the river-streams Of Xanthus, and with countless corpses choked His murmuring flow, when from the limbs he tore Lycaon's life beside the sounding river; And how he smote down Hector; how he slew Penthesileia, and the godlike son Of splendour-throned Dawn;--all this he sang To Argives which already knew the tale; Sang of his giant mould, how no man's strength In fight could stand against him, nor in games Where strong men strive for mastery, where the swift Contend with flying feet or hurrying wheels Of chariots, nor in combat panoplied; And how in goodlihead he far outshone All Danaans, and how his bodily might Was measureless in the stormy clash of war. Last, he prayed Heaven that he might see a son Like that great sire from sea-washed Scyros come.

That noble song acclaiming Argives praised; Yea, silver-looted Thetis smiled, and gave The singer fleetfoot horses, given of old Beside Caicus' mouth by Telephus To Achilles, when he healed the torturing wound With that same spear wherewith himself had pierced Telephus' thigh, and thrust the point clear through. These Nestor Neleus' son to his comrades gave, And, glorying in their godlike lord, they led The steeds unto his ships. Then Thetis set Amidst the athlete-ring ten kine, to be Her prizes for the footrace, and by each Ran a fair suckling calf. These the bold might Of Peleus' tireless son had driven down From slopes of Ida, prizes of his spear.

To strive for these rose up two victory-fain, Teucer the first, the son of Telamon, And Aias, of the Locrian archers chief. These twain with swift hands girded them about With loin-cloths, reverencing the Goddess-bride Of Peleus, and the Sea-maids, who with her Came to behold the Argives' athlete-sport. And Atreus' son, lord of all Argive men, Showed them the turning-goal of that swift course. Then these the Queen of Rivalry spurred on, As from the starting-line like falcons swift They sped away. Long doubtful was the race: Now, as the Argives gazed, would Aias' friends Shout, now rang out the answering cheer from friends Of Teucer. But when in their eager speed Close on the end they were, then Teucer's feet Were trammelled by unearthly powers: some god Or demon dashed his foot against the stock Of a deep-rooted tamarisk. Sorely wrenched Was his left ankle: round the joint upswelled The veins high-ridged. A great shout rang from all That watched the contest. Aias darted past Exultant: ran his Locrian folk to hail Their lord, with sudden joy in all their souls. Then to his ships they drave the kine, and cast Fodder before them. Eager-helpful friends Led Teucer halting thence. The leeches drew Blood from his foot: then over it they laid Soft-shredded linen ointment-smeared, and swathed With smooth bands round, and charmed away the pain.

Then swiftly rose two mighty-hearted ones Eager to match their strength in wrestling strain, The son of Tydeus and the giant Aias. Into the midst they strode, and marvelling gazed The Argives on men shapen like to gods. Then grappled they, like lions famine-stung Fighting amidst the mountains o'er a stag, Whose strength is even-balanced; no whit less Is one than other in their deadly rage; So these long time in might were even-matched, Till Aias locked his strong hands round the son Of Tydeus, straining hard to break his back; But he, with wrestling-craft and strength combined, Shifted his hip 'neath Telamon's son, and heaved The giant up; with a side-twist wrenched free From Aias' ankle-lock his thigh, and so With one huge shoulder-heave to earth he threw That mighty champion, and himself came down Astride him: then a mighty shout went up. But battle-stormer Aias, chafed in mind, Sprang up, hot-eager to essay again That grim encounter. From his terrible hands He dashed the dust, and challenged furiously With a great voice Tydeides: not a whit That other quailed, but rushed to close with him. Rolled up the dust in clouds from 'neath their feet: Hurtling they met like battling mountain-bulls That clash to prove their dauntless strength, and spurn The dust, while with their roaring all the hills Re-echo: in their desperate fury these Dash their strong heads together, straining long Against each other with their massive strength, Hard-panting in the fierce rage of their strife, While from their mouths drip foam-flakes to the ground; So strained they twain with grapple of brawny hands. 'Neath that hard grip their backs and sinewy necks Cracked, even as when in mountain-glades the trees Dash storm-tormented boughs together. Oft Tydeides clutched at Aias' brawny thighs, But could not stir his steadfast-rooted feet. Oft Aias hurled his whole weight on him, bowed His shoulders backward, strove to press him down; And to new grips their hands were shifting aye. All round the gazing people shouted, some Cheering on glorious Tydeus' son, and some The might of Aias. Then the giant swung The shoulders of his foe to right, to left; Then gripped him 'neath the waist; with one fierce heave And giant effort hurled him like a stone To earth. The floor of Troyland rang again As fell Tydeides: shouted all the folk. Yet leapt he up all eager to contend With giant Aias for the third last fall: But Nestor rose and spake unto the twain: "From grapple of wrestling, noble sons, forbear; For all we know that ye be mightiest Of Argives since the great Achilles died."

Then these from toil refrained, and from their brows Wiped with their hands the plenteous-streaming sweat: They kissed each other, and forgat their strife. Then Thetis, queen of Goddesses, gave to them Four handmaids; and those strong and aweless ones Marvelled beholding them, for these surpassed All captive-maids in beauty and household-skill, Save only lovely-tressed Briseis. These Achilles captive brought from Lesbos' Isle, And in their service joyed. The first was made Stewardess of the feast and lady of meats; The second to the feasters poured the wine; The third shed water on their hands thereafter; The fourth bare all away, the banquet done. These Tydeus' son and giant Aias shared, And, parted two and two, unto their ships Sent they those fair and serviceable ones.

Next, for the play of fists Idomeneus rose, For cunning was he in all athlete-lore; But none came forth to meet him, yielding all To him, the elder-born, with reverent awe. So in their midst gave Thetis unto him A chariot and fleet steeds, which theretofore Mighty Patroclus from the ranks of Troy Drave, when he slew Sarpedon, seed of Zeus, These to his henchmen gave Idomeneus To drive unto the ships: himself remained Still sitting in the glorious athlete-ring. Then Phoenix to the stalwart Argives cried: "Now to Idomeneus the Gods have given A fair prize uncontested, free of toil Of mighty arms and shoulders, honouring The elder-born with bloodless victory. But lo, ye younger men, another prize Awaiteth the swift play of cunning hands. Step forth then: gladden great Peleides' soul."

Then for the archery-test Oileus' son Stood forth with Teucer, they which in the race Erewhile contended. Far away from these Agamemnon, lord of spears, set up a helm Crested with plumes, and spake: "The master-shot Is that which shears the hair-crest clean away." Then straightway Aias shot his arrow first, And smote the helm-ridge: sharply rang the brass. Then Teucer second with most earnest heed Shot: the swift shaft hath shorn the plume away. Loud shouted all the people as they gazed, And praised him without stint, for still his foot Halted in pain, yet nowise marred his aim When with his hands he sped the flying shaft. Then Peleus' bride gave unto him the arms Of godlike Troilus, the goodliest Of all fair sons whom Hecuba had borne In hallowed Troy; yet of his goodlihead No joy she had; the prowess and the spear Of fell Achilles reft his life from him. As when a gardener with new-whetted scythe Mows down, ere it may seed, a blade of corn Or poppy, in a garden dewy-fresh And blossom-flushed, which by a water-course Crowdeth its blooms--mows it ere it may reach Its goal of bringing offspring to the birth, And with his scythe-sweep makes its life-work vain And barren of all issue, nevermore Now to be fostered by the dews of spring; So did Peleides cut down Priam's son The god-like beautiful, the beardless yet And virgin of a bride, almost a child! Yet the Destroyer Fate had lured him on To war, upon the threshold of glad youth, When youth is bold, and the heart feels no void.

Forthwith a bar of iron massy and long From the swift-speeding hand did many essay To hurl; but not an Argive could prevail To cast that ponderous mass. Aias alone Sped it from his strong hand, as in the time Of harvest might a reaper fling from him A dry oak-bough, when all the fields are parched. And all men marvelled to behold how far Flew from his hand the bronze which scarce two men Hard-straining had uplifted from the ground. Even this Antaeus' might was wont to hurl Erstwhile, ere the strong hands of Hercules O'ermastered him. This, with much spoil beside, Hercules took, and kept it to make sport For his invincible hand; but afterward Gave it to valiant Peleus, who with him Had smitten fair-towered Ilium's burg renowned; And he to Achilles gave it, whose swift ships Bare it to Troy, to put him aye in mind Of his own father, as with eager will He fought with stalwart Trojans, and to be A worthy test wherewith to prove his strength. Even this did Aias from his brawny hand Fling far. So then the Nereid gave to him The glorious arms from godlike Memnon stripped. Marvelling the Argives gazed on them: they were A giant's war-gear. Laughing a glad laugh That man renowned received them: he alone Could wear them on his brawny limbs; they seemed As they had even been moulded to his frame. The great bar thence he bore withal, to be His joy when he was fain of athlete-toil.

Still sped the contests on; and many rose Now for the leaping. Far beyond the marks Of all the rest brave Agapenor sprang: Loud shouted all for that victorious leap; And Thetis gave him the fair battle-gear Of mighty Cycnus, who had smitten first Protesilaus, then had reft the life From many more, till Peleus' son slew him First of the chiefs of grief-enshrouded Troy.

Then fiery-hearted Aias eagerly Rose, challenging to strife of hands and feet The mightiest hero there; but marvelling They marked his mighty thews, and no man dared Confront him. Chilling dread had palsied all Their courage: from their hearts they feared him, lest His hands invincible should all to-break His adversary's face, and naught but pain Be that man's meed. But at the last all men Made signs to battle-bider Euryalus, For well they knew him skilled in fighting-craft; But he too feared that giant, and he cried: "Friends, any other Achaean, whom ye will, Blithe will I face; but mighty Alas--no! Far doth he overmatch me. He will rend Mine heart, if in the onset anger rise Within him: from his hands invincible, I trow, I should not win to the ships alive."

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