The Thebaid

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by Publius Papinius Statius


  and enemies to help him end his life.

  He slew the sons of Abas, long-haired Argus,

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  and Cydon, whose sad sister was his lover.

  An oblique arrow transfixed Cydon’s temples:

  the point emerged; the rapid feathers stuck;

  both wounds poured blood. His bitter arrows o√ered

  pardon from death to no one: not to Lamus

  for looks, or Lygdus for prophetic ribbons,

  nor was Aeolus saved by adolescence.

  Parthenopaeus shot the face of Lamus,

  pierced Lygdus through the groin, and you, Aeolus,

  groaned when his arrow punctured your white forehead.

  Euboea, on its mountain rocks, bore one;

  and Thisbae, white with pigeons, mourned the second;

  the third will not return to green Amyclae.

  Parthenopaeus never came up empty.

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  None of his missiles lacked divinity.

  His right hand never rested; his shafts flew

  before preceding arrows struck their mark.

  Who would believe one person shot so many

  or that a single hand could do such damage?

  BOOK Ω ≤ΣΩ

  Sometimes he aimed; sometimes he changed his hands;

  sometimes he chased; sometimes he feigned and ran.

  –?–?–?–

  By now the sons of Labdacus had turned

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  and reassembled, both amazed and scornful.

  The first among them was Amphion, he

  of Jove’s own famous blood, who up till now

  was unaware of what the boy had done,

  the bodies in the field. ‘‘How long can you

  enjoy this respite from your fate, o son?

  Your death will greatly grieve deserving parents!

  Although you feed your pride and swell your mind,

  nobody stoops to such a minor duel! The fight

  is worth too little; it’s beneath contempt!

  Go back to Arcady and mix with equals,

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  play battle games at home, while angry Mars

  rages in dust for real. . . . But if you want

  the mournful fame that comes from valiant death,

  I am prepared to kill you like a man!’’

  The fearsome son of Atalanta and

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  the soldiers were engaged in trading insults.

  Before Amphion finished, he responded:

  ‘‘Is this Thebes’ army? Then I must be late!

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  What boy would keep himself from such a war?

  The one you see before you is no Theban.

  My race is savage: I’m Arcadian!

  No Thyiad mother bore me while a slave

  to Echionian Lyaeus. I

  • have never wielded spears of infamy

  or worn an odious turban on my head!

  Early on I was taught to crawl along

  tight rivers, enter great beasts’ frightening caves,

  and—why should I say more?—my mother gave

  me swords and bows: your fathers pounded drums!’’

  Amphion could not tolerate his words

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  and threw his mighty ash spear at his head.

  ≤Π≠ STATIUS, THE THEBAID

  The deadly flash of iron spooked his horse,

  which circled with its rider, turned aside,

  and knocked the looming javelin o√ course.

  This made Amphion angrier. He charged

  Parthenopaeus with his outdrawn sword,

  just as Latona hurried to the field

  and stood before their eyes so they could see her.

  There was a youth named Dorceus, a Maenalian,

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  whom Atalanta had enlisted for

  her son to calm her fears and keep a watch.

  He too was young and daring. This friend clung

  beside the boy he loved with due regard.

  Diana counterfeited him and said,

  ‘‘Parthenopeaus, you have done enough

  to these Ogygian armies—done enough!

  Take care for your sad mother and the gods,

  whomever they protect!’’

  But he was fearless:

  ‘‘Just let me kill this one who copies me,

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  whose weapon imitates my own, whose dress

  is similar, whose bridle sounds with bells!

  O loyal Dorceus, I ask nothing else!

  I will assume his reins and hang his armor

  over Diana’s door and please my mother

  by capturing his quiver just for her!’’

  Latona heard. Her smile was mixed with tears.

  –?–?–?–

  For some time Venus had been watching her

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  from heaven, far away, while she embraced

  Gradivus and reminded him of Thebes,

  for which she worried, and the dear descendants

  of Cadmus and Harmonia. She hid

  her sorrow in her silent heart but seized

  a proper opportunity to speak:

  ‘‘Isn’t that woman impudent, Gradivus,

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  to interfere in battles fought by men,

  BOOK Ω ≤Π∞

  arranging lines, disposing martial signs?

  She chooses who will die and who will live,

  even among our people! Who is she

  to show such prowess, such insanity?

  You will be left impaling country deer!’’

  The god of war was moved by her complaints

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  to leap into the battle. As he dropped

  down through the empty skies, his only aide

  was Anger, for the other Furies were

  sweating already on the battlefield.

  At once he landed next to Leto’s daughter

  and sternly warned her: ‘‘You have not been granted

  this battle by the father of the gods!

  Get o√ this field of men who carry arms,

  you shameless woman! Do it now, or you

  will learn not even Pallas matches me!’’

  What could she do against him? First, the spear

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  of Mars was pressing her. Next, Parthenopaeus,

  your thread of life had filled its fatal dista√.

  Finally, the face of Jupiter was threatening.

  The goddess left at last; she had been shamed.

  –?–?–?–

  But father Mars observed Ogygian lines

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  and moved horrendous Dryas, he whose race

  inherited a hatred of Diana

  from dark Orion, their progenitor.

  So Dryas raged, and the Arcadians

  panicked as he pursued them with his sword

  and overcame their leader. Then long lines

  of people from Cyllene were destroyed,

  inhabitants of shadowy Tegea,

  Aepytis’s leaders, and Telphusian soldiers.

  Although his arm grew heavy, he saved strength,

  for he was certain he could slay their leader

  Parthenopaeus, who arranged his troops

  and felt his own fatigue: a thousand portents

  and darkling clouds of death presaged his end.

  ≤Π≤ STATIUS, THE THEBAID

  And then he saw the real, the human Dorceus,

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  and worried that he had so few companions;

  he sensed his failing strength, and noticed that

  his empty quiver weighed less on his shoulder.

  His anger drove him less and less. He seemed

  only a boy, as fearful Dryas turned

  the gleam of his fierce shield in his direction.

  His jaws shook suddenly; his stomach tensed,

  and the Arcadian felt like a swan

  who sees an eagle ju
st about to strike

  and wishing Strymon’s banks would open wide

  tries to take shelter under trembling feathers.

  Anger no longer gripped Parthenopaeus

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  once he had seen the bulk of fearsome Dryas;

  instead, he felt a chill presaging death.

  In vain he called Diana and the gods,

  resumed his weapons (even as he paled),

  and rushed to draw his unresponsive bow.

  His body was oblique, about to shoot—

  the arrow touched the horn, the string his chest—

  when the Aonian chieftain hurled his spear

  with swift and whirling motion at such speed

  it cut the angled cords that tuned his string.

  His hands released the shaft; the bow relaxed;

  his weapons fell as his drawn string went slack.

  Stung by the pain and wounded in his shoulder

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  where his thin skin was cut beneath his armor,

  he slipped his reins and let his weapons drop.

  After the first, a second javelin

  severed the hamstrings of his horse, which stopped . . .

  then Dryas fell—a miracle! He never

  knew who had struck, but time will tell, hereafter.

  The boy was borne across the field by comrades—

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  so young, so simple. Even as he died,

  he mourned his fallen horse. Unhelmeted,

  the young man’s head hung limp, but dying grace

  breathed from his trembling face. Men seized his hair

  three or four times to lift his neck, but failed.

  BOOK Ω ≤Π≥

  The sight would be unspeakably bereaving,

  even in Thebes, for red blood overflowed

  his white skin, and he said, as he was choking:

  ‘‘I’m dying, Dorceus! Go console my mother

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  in her aΔiction. She, indeed—if worrying

  can make one prophesy what’s real—has seen

  this sad truth in a vision or a dream.

  But use a pious fraud to ease her fears;

  beguile her; do not suddenly appear

  or come upon her when she holds a spear.

  Then, when she has invited you to speak,

  say ‘Mother, I deserve the punishment

  you never meant to give. When I was young,

  I took your weapons, and despite your e√orts,

  I never stopped, nor did I ever spare

  your feelings; you were worried by my warfare.

  Now you may live in peace and rest your fears;

  no longer will my boldness be your care.

  You will hear no more sounds or see the dust

  my troops raise; I lie naked on the earth

  where you may find me close to Mount Lycaeus.

  You are not near enough to hold my head

  or feel my final breath. So here, sad mother’—

  he cut some strands of hair and held them out—

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  ‘accept this lock! In place of my whole body

  accept the tresses that you brushed in vain,

  despite my indignation. Bury them,

  and as you make my obsequies, remember,

  let only someone with experience

  handle my armaments, and my best hounds

  never again should hunt inside a cavern.

  Let these unlucky weapons, from my first

  campaign, be burned, or hang them as a sign

  to say I was not favored by Diana.’ ‘‘

  –?–?–?–

  BOOK 10 Sacrifices

  Eteocles directs the city’s guards. In Argos the women pray. The House of Sleep. Thebans slaughtered. Hopleus and Dymas die retrieving the bodies of Tydeus and Parthenopaeus. Thebes assaulted. Tiresias calls for a sacrifice. Descent of Virtue. Suicide of Menoeceus, Creon’s son. His mother’s despair and madness. Capaneus challenges the gods. Jove’s thunderbolt.

  A wet night, moved by Jupiter’s behest,

  dimmed Phoebus in Hesperia—the west—

  not out of pity for the Tyrians

  or Argives but to save the innocents

  who, unaligned, did not deserve to perish.

  Enormous carnage marred the open field—

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  weapons and horses ridden by proud warriors

  who now left scattered limbs and unburned corpses.

  Inglorious platoons with tattered standards

  abandoned that sick army, and the gates

  that seemed so narrow when men went to war

  were broad enough to handle their retreat.

  Both sides knew sorrow, but the Tyrians

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  found consolation in the fact that four

  Danaan armies wandered with no leaders

  just as, her helmsman lost, a ship is driven

  by tempests, gods, and chance through swollen seas.

  So they were unconcerned to guard their city

  but sought to stem their enemies from flight

  lest they, in full retreat, should reach Mycenae.

  A password went by tablet to the watch;

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  positions were assigned; and by the lot

  Meges received command and also Lycus,

  who joined him in these movements through the dark.

  They had their orders issued, were equipped

  BOOK ∞≠ ≤ΠΣ

  with weapons, food, and torches, when their king,

  Eteocles, addressed them at their parting:

  ‘‘Tomorrow’s light is not far o√. These shadows

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  will not protect those cowards any longer,

  and you will have defeated the Danaans.

  Gather your courage and take heart. The gods

  favor us. You have overthrown the pride

  of Lerna and her foremost armies. Tydeus

  has gone to Tartarus for punishment;

  the augur’s living ghost amazes Death;

  the remnants of Hippomedon upswell

  Ismenos in his pride. (It would be shameful

  to count, among the conquered, the Arcadian.)

  We hold our destiny in our own hands.

  Never again will seven generals

  with their tall crests appear above those armies,

  although, of course, Adrastus has his years,

  my brother youth, and Capaneus madness—

  a man to fear in war. Go forward, then,

  circle their camp with your unsleeping flames!

  Fear not the enemy. Be vigilant,

  and their supplies and treasure will be yours!’’

  Thus he harangued the fierce Labdacians,

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  who turned around, prepared to do again

  what had exhausted them, still covered in

  dust, sweat, and blood. They had no patience for

  good-byes or conversations; they ignored

 

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