The Thebaid

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by Publius Papinius Statius


  BOOK Σ ∞≤Ω

  trembled as they leaped o√ their ship’s high stern,

  eminent, elegant, nobly born—and now

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  that fear and rage did not disfigure them,

  their faces shone, and their demeanor spoke.

  ‘‘They say the gods emerge through secret doors

  • to visit Aethiopia’s Red Sea shores,

  the houses where they feast at minor banquets,

  and all the rivers and the mountains ease

  their passage and the lap of earth rejoices;

  there Atlas, who sustains the heavens, rests.

  ‘‘We saw proud Theseus, who had recently

  • freed Marathon. We saw the North Wind’s children,

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  • brothers from Thrace, whose temples sang with feathers

  • like red wings, and we saw Admetus, one

  whom Phoebus granted precedence, and then

  Orpheus, mild, unlike the other Thracians.

  • We saw the son of Calydon, then Peleus,

  the son-in-law of Nereus. The twin

  • Oebalidae deceived our sight with their

  confusing ambiguity: both Castor

  and Pollux wore a purple cloak and carried

  javelins, and they each exposed their shoulders;

  their cheeks were shaved; their hair shone like twin stars.

  • Young Hylas tried to match the mighty stride

  of Hercules, whose bulk made him move slowly.

  He managed with some di≈culty, bearing

  Lernaean weapons, proud he could perspire

  under the burden of a massive quiver.

  ‘‘Venus, as a result, returned, and Cupid

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  with silent flames aroused love in

  the hard hearts of the women left on Lemnos.

  Juno allowed our minds to dwell on thoughts

  of noble arms and manly dress, the signs

  of breeding and distinction. We competed

  to open up our doorways to these strangers.

  We lit our altars and forgot the crimes

  that for so long preoccupied our minds.

  We feasted and slept well through quiet nights.

  ∞≥≠ STATIUS, THE THEBAID

  ‘‘We women told what happened, and the gods

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  protected us, I think. O gentlemen,

  perhaps my destiny would interest you!

  My error was excusable. I swear

  upon the ashes and the Furies of my family,

  I did not light a stranger’s marriage torch

  because of my desire or ill intent.

  The gods know it was Jason’s charming manner

  that bound another virgin in his chains.

  He broke the law in Phasis, spilling blood.

  • In Colchis, he discovered other love.

  ‘‘Soon frost had melted, and the stars were warmed

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  by longer days. The rapid year revolved.

  Women made vows in childbirth, and a new,

  unlooked-for generation cried in Lemnos.

  ‘‘Brought to the marriage bed by force, and made

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  a mother by a brutal foreigner,

  I bore twin sons, and I named one for his

  grandfather. What their fortune is, or if

  the Fates have let them live, who knows? Four times

  the span of sixty months has passed since I

  left them in Lemnos in Lycaste’s care.

  –?–?–?–

  ‘‘A milder, southern breeze allured the sails.

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  The spirit of the sea grew calm. The ship

  disparaged quiet haven and delay;

  she strained against the rock that held her chain.

  The Argonauts were set to leave, and that vile

  Jason assembled his adventurers.

  I wish that waves had borne him past our shores,

  for Jason never loved his children or

  respected promises. His fame in faro√

  nations is well known: he won the fleece,

  the one that Phrixus carried overseas.

  ‘‘On the appointed day, the sun set west;

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  Tiphys, the helmsman, sensed the coming breeze;

  BOOK Σ ∞≥∞

  Phoebus descended to his scarlet bed.

  Women lamented. It was night again.

  ‘‘The order for departure came from Jason,

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  on his high deck, when day had hardly broken.

  That leader was the first to lash the sea.

  ‘‘From cli√s and from the highest mountain summits

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  we watched them cleave the foaming main’s expanse

  till light deceived our eyes and heaven seemed

  to merge into the margin of the surface;

  it blended in the distance with the ocean.

  ‘‘There was a rumor running in the port

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  that said my father Thoas crossed the seas

  • to Chios, to his brother, where he ruled;

  that I had spared my parent; that the bier

  I burned was empty. Driven crazy by

  their sense of guilt, the common women called

  for punishment and shamelessly complained.

  The rabble’s secret whisperings increased:

  ‘Why must we mourn our dead while she alone

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  kept faith and saved her family? Were not

  these things commanded by the gods and fate?

  Why should that wicked woman rule our city?’

  ‘‘Terrified by their murmurings—my royalty

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  useless against impending retribution—

  I left the bloody walls and, unaccompanied,

  wandered along the pathless shores in secret—

  the route that I had followed with my father.

  No Bacchus met me this time. I was seized—

  I did not scream—by pirates on the beach,

  who brought me to your shores to be a slave.’’

  –?–?–?–

  These words, addressed to those Lernaean leaders,

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  allowed the Lemnian exile to assuage

  her grief, but she forgot her absent baby.

  The fault lay in the stars! Weary from playing,

  ∞≥≤ STATIUS, THE THEBAID

  he lay his heavy eyes and languid face

  along the ground and fell asleep, while grasping,

  within his little hand, a clump of grass.

  • Meanwhile, a dragon born of earth, the sacred

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  curse of Achaean groves, appeared. He moved

  with tract indented on the ground. He drew

  his bulk first forward, then behind his torso.

  Blue flames burned in his eyes, his jaws foamed green

  with venom, three tongues flickered from curved teeth

  arranged in triple rows, and from his brow

  of burnished gold a gruesome crest protruded.

  Along the Inachus the farmers say

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  he’s sacred to the Thunderer, whom they

  worship at woodland shrines in their small way,

  and he protects them. Now the serpent slid

  and looped around the temples of the gods;

  his loose folds ravaged forests, crushing oaks,

  huge ash trees, and his serpentine, coiled length

  lay over rivers, bank to bank, which once

  bubbled beneath his scales as he cut trenches.

  But now, as Bacchus had commanded, all

  the land was panting and the nymphs of streams

  lay hidden in the dust. The serpent twisted

  his convoluted curves on crumbling ground

  and burned up with the heat of drying venom.

  He wound and wande
red where old swamps had been,

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  on burning lakes and buried springs, through valleys

  empty of rivers. Now he raised his head,

  uncertain, and he licked the liquid air.

  The serpent scraped through groaning fields; he slid

  along his belly on the ground in search

  of fresh grass, and whichever way he turned

  his scalding breath, fields died and pastures withered.

  • His size recalled the dragon that divides

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  the Great Bear from the northern pole of heaven

  and reaches to the other world’s south winds,

  BOOK Σ ∞≥≥

  or him whose coils contained the sacred horns

  of Mount Parnassus, until you, Apollo,

  pierced him a hundred times with wooden arrows.

  Why has God given you, o little one,534

  by accident, the weight of such misfortune?

  Were you, who had just reached the gates of life,

  doomed by your enemy? Is this why you

  for centuries were sacred to the Grecians

  and why you earned so great a funeral?

  The serpent did not know, but its long tail538

  struck you and killed you, child! At once

  sleep left your limbs; you opened up your eyes,

  only to die, but first your frightened cries

  were carried through the air, and when they ceased,

  your voice fell silent, as occurs in dreams.

  Hypsipyle was listening; she breathed

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  softly, too sick to run; her knees grew weak.

  Convinced that something awful, some ill omen,

  had happened, she looked everywhere; she crossed

  the fields repeating words the infant knew

  but found no sign of him. The child was gone.

  Meanwhile, her sluggish enemy, the dragon,

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  stretched over several acres in a circle

  of venom, with his neck back on his belly,

  unmoving, unafraid, despite the screams

  of awful fear resounding through the forest.

  The Argives’ ears, however, heard her wails

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  of misery, and the Arcadian,

  Parthenopaeus, at his leader’s urging,

  took o√ at once, then brought back his report.

  And now the dragon turned his scaly neck

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  toward flashing weapons and the sounds of men.

  With great strength, huge Hippomedon uplifted

  a boundary marker stone and hurtled it

  ∞≥∂ STATIUS, THE THEBAID

  through empty air, just as a catapult

  casts balanced boulders at a city’s doors

  in wartime. But the hero’s strength was useless.

  The dragon drew its head back. It avoided

  the blow, which tore a pathway through the forest

  of tangled branches till it struck the earth.

  ‘‘Even if giants join you and assault me,

  you won’t avoid myblows,’’ cried Capaneus,

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  who held his ash spear out and faced the serpent,

  ‘‘wherever you inhabit fearful groves

  or entertain the gods—oh, yes, those gods!’’

  His quivering weapon took advantage of

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  the monster’s open jaws; it flew inside

  and slit the sinews of its triple tongues;

  it exited his brilliant head and crest,

  draining black blood and brains, and pierced the earth.

  The pain had scarcely reached its total length,

  when it threw rapid coils around the spear,

  extracted it, and took it to its cave,

  the temple of the god, where all was dark.

  There its great bulk collapsed; the creature sighed,

  lay down before its master’s shrine, and died.

  Lerna’s swamps (kindred spirits) mourned the serpent,

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  as did the Nemean fields where it had crawled

  and Nymphs whose vernal flowers covered it.

  O woodland Fauns, you groaned and dashed your pipes!

  Jupiter—even he, in his high heaven—

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  gathered the clouds of winter, called for weapons,

  but then dismissed his anger. Capaneus

  must be preserved for greater punishment.

  One lightning bolt, however, cut the air

  and blew aside his towering helmet crest.

  Already the unhappy Lemnian

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  had wandered over many fields in which

  the serpent once had dwelled; then she beheld,

  not far away, a grass knoll stained with blood.

  BOOK Σ ∞≥Σ

  Carried away by grief, her face grown pale,

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  she hurried there, and when she recognized

  the tragedy, she tumbled, thunderstruck,

  on the o√ending earth, incapable

  of weeping or of speaking, only seeking

  life in the baby’s limbs, still warm. She leaned

  over him, giving kiss on kiss, although his skin

  was rent, and she could not distinguish his

  face or his chest. She viewed his tender bones—

  his fresh blood dripped in beads along his tendons—

  as when a bird returns to her holm oak

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  within whose shady leaves a tedious snake

  has ravaged her young brood and torn her nest;

  she marvels at the quiet of her home;

  she hovers, in confusion; then, dismayed

  and horrified, she drops the food her beak

  has carried; she sees blood around her tree

  and floating feathers drape her captured nest.

  When she upheld his torn limbs to her breast

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  and veiled him with her tresses, she expressed

  her grief and let her groans form words. At last:

  ?’’Archemorus, sweet image of my sons!

  You were a solace for my loneliness,

  my country, all I’d lost. You were my one

  reward for servitude. What guilty gods

  have murdered you, my joy, whom I had left

  playing and crawling, worrying the grass?

  Where are your star-bright eyes? those words you half

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  pronounced? your laughter and your murmurings

  only I understood? How many times

  did I discourse of Lemnos and the Argo

  and sing you lulling songs so you would sleep?

  You were my consolation, little one!

  I nursed you at my breast. Now you are gone;

  my milk comes down in vain; it trickles on

  your injuries like melancholy rain!

  ‘‘I recognize the workings of the gods.

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  My dreams have been portentous, fearful nightmares.

 

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