‘‘What is the reason heaven serves our cause,
after so long, so suddenly? Do you
return, divinities, to crumbling Argos?
Is it misfortune that provokes our courage,
the remnants of our ancient blood, the seeds
of bravery that endure in su√ering souls?
Noble young men, I o√er you my praise.
I am enjoying your delicious mutiny,
but this encounter is deceitful, hidden,
BOOK ∞≠ ≤π≥
done under cover, and unsuitable
for many men, since fraud needs secrecy.
Conserve your spirit. Take your vengeance on
the enemy when day comes, when we all
will arm ourselves, when all will enter battle!’’
The courage of the men was bridled, calmed,
just as when father Aeolus maintains
control of the commotion in his cavern.
He sternly orders every exit closed
and blocks the entry with another stone
to shutter winds that seek to rouse the seas.
Agylleus, who’s the son of Hercules,
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and Actor are included by the seer.
Actor is apt to lead and issue orders;
the other has not lost his father’s strength.
Each of the three has ten in his command,
and they would frighten the Aonians
even if they should meet them in the open.
Because Thiodamas had not before
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engaged in the deceptiveness of war,
he laid aside the wreathe that he adored,
the emblem of Apollo, and allowed
Adrastus to receive what graced his brow.
A hauberk and his helm were welcome gifts
from Polynices, and he put them on.
Actor received a sword from Capaneus,
who would not go himself because he scorned
all frauds, nor did he countenance the gods.
Agylleus and rough Nomus traded weapons:
what could a bow or Herculean arrows
do with deceptive shadows in this skirmish?
The soldiers scrambled up and leaped steep walls
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to minimize the groans of bronze-hinged portals.
Not far away they found their sleeping prey
stretched on the ground as if already slain—
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work for their swords. ‘‘O comrades, go, I pray,
and fill whatever need you have for slaughter.
The gods have favored us. We have their plenty!’’
Then, in a strident voice, the priest continued:
‘‘Do you observe the drunkenness, the shame,
that blemishes these unprotected cohorts?
Did such as these dare circle Argive gates
or keep guard over us?’’ He spoke and drew
his bright sword; he proceeded through the ranks.
His hand moved quickly: who could count the dead,
who has the power to list these troops by name?
He stabbed their backs and chests in random order
and left their moans enclosed inside their helmets.
They poured their blood for ghosts to wander over.
One was a careless man sprawled on a couch;
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another tripped and could not hold his spear.
Others were lying heaped in wine and weapons,
while some reclined on shields. A final cloud
of darkness settled over those whom Sleep
had overcome and left to their misfortune.
Nor was a holy power absent. Juno,
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who wore her armor, waved a lunar torch
and cleared a path with her extended arm.
She showed the Argives bodies and inspired them.
Thiodamas could feel the goddess present,
but he said nothing. He concealed his pleasure.
But now his hand was weary, his sword weak,
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and his success had made him feel less malice.
Not otherwise a Caspian tiger grieves
that he has lost his hunger when he sees
what he has done, the slaughter of a herd
whose ample blood has pacified his rage,
tired his jaws, and stained his spots with gore.
Just so, the weary prophet wove his way
through hundreds of Aonians; no wonder
he soon grew tired of executing shades
and wished that his opponents were awake.
BOOK ∞≠ ≤πΣ
Elsewhere the son of mighty Hercules
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slaughtered the unaroused Sidonians,
and Actor did the same. Their companies
followed on gruesome paths. Blood formed black lakes.
Its streams swayed tents. Earth smoked—as death and sleep
mixed in a single vapor—and not one
of those who slumbered lifted up his face.
Over those wretched men the winged god
cast a great shadow, and they raised their eyes
only when they were just about to die.
Singing Sidonian paeans, Ialmenus
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had seen the late stars setting as he played
his lute for fun, but would not see them rise.
The God of Sleep relaxed his languid neck;
his head lay leftward, on his instrument,
and when Agylleus stabbed him through the chest,
his practiced fingers struck the turtle shell
and his excited fingers plucked its strings.
The tables flowed with filth, as wine and blood
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trickled and intermingled, till the Bacchic
portion sought refuge back in cups and bowls.
Wild Actor murdered Thamyris, whose limbs
were mingled with his brother’s. Tagus stabbed
Echechlus, a crowned monarch, in the back,
and Danaus cut away the head of Hebrus,
who never knew what happened, so his life
went to the land of shadows still in bliss,
saved from the sadness that harsh death inflicts.
On the cold ground Calpetus lay outstretched
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beneath his trusty yoke pole and his wheels.
His horses were Aonian, and they
grazed gently in the grass, despite his snores,
which frightened them. His wet mouth drooled. His sleep
grew heated from the warmness of his wine.
Now the Inachian prophet slit his throat,
and it emitted floods of must and gore,
≤πΠ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
a flow of blood that stopped his final snore.
He may have glimpsed his death as he was sleeping—
noticed Thiodamas, or seen black Thebes.
The fourth division of the sleeping night
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had come, the clouds had emptied, and the stars
no longer radiated equal light.
A faster wagon breathed on Ursa Major.
Their task was ending, when prophetic Actor
called to Thiodamas: ‘‘This should su≈ce;
an unexpected joy for us Pelasgians.
I think that hardly any have escaped
a brutal death, unless they hide like cowards
under this mass of dead to save their lives.
Let’s end while we are winning: even Thebes,
despite her known impieties, has gods;
our own, who look with favor, may recede.’’
Thiodamas complied and raised his palms,
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still dripping, to the stars. ‘‘Although my hands
are not yet washed with water, I must make
this sacrifice, Apollo! I bring o√erin
gs:
I, loyal priest and fierce guard of your tripods,
bring you the nighttime spoils that you foresaw.
If I have not dishonored your commands,
if I have borne your promptings, do not scorn
to visit me, to penetrate my mind.
For now your monuments are gruesome, gore
of men and broken limbs, but if your favor
grants us our homeland and our sought-for temples,
• demand rich gifts from us, o Lycian Paean!
Recall our promises and order bulls
be brought before your portals!’’ So he spoke,
then called his joyous comrades from their weapons.
–?–?–?–
• Among them came a Calydonian, Hopleus,
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• and a Maenalian, Dymas. Tydeus and
Parthenopaeus had been their companions
BOOK ∞≠ ≤ππ
and loved this fated pair, who mourned for them
and so scorned life, but Hopleus had a plan
and spoke with Dymas, the Arcadian.
‘‘Dear Dymas, do you care for our dead princes,
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whom birds and dogs from Thebes may now be eating?
What will Arcadians carry to your country
when his fierce mother will demand his body?
The thought of Tydeus tombless rends my heart,
although my friend was more mature than yours
and his years less lamentable to lose.
We have a chance to scrutinize the field,
go anywhere, even inside of Thebes.’’
Then Dymas spoke: ‘‘I swear by these quick stars
360
and by the wandering shadow of my prince—
to me a god—I too am moved by sorrow.
I have been seeking one to share my grief,
but now I’ll take the lead.’’ Before he started
he stared at heaven with a humble face
and he intoned this prayer: ‘‘O Cynthia,
queen of the secret mysteries of night,
if your divinity, as people say,
can take on threefold features and descend
into the forests as Diana, then
the boy for whom we search was your companion,
a glorious alumnus of your groves,
and you should favor us.’’
The goddess hears,
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and her declining chariot makes bright
the moon, whose horns illuminate his body.
The field appears, and Thebes, and high Cithaeron,
as when destructive Jupiter ignites
the night air with his thunder. Clouds divide
and stars reveal themselves in flashing light
and earth is suddenly open to their eyes.
The same light that gave Dymas his success
375
thrilled Hopleus when he suddenly saw Tydeus.
Through the dark distance he and Dymas signaled
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their mutual excitement, and each carried
the burden that he cared for on his shoulders
as if it had been brought to life again
and saved from savage death. They did not speak
or even dare to weep as they proceeded.
Impending signs of daylight threatened them
with danger, as they moved through mournful silence
with long steps and kept quiet, worried that
dim light would overcome exhausted shadows.
Fate envies pieties. Luck is a rare384
companion for the great deeds one may dare.
They saw their camp and felt their burdens lessen
385
as they drew nearer, when at once they listened
to sounds behind them. There were clouds of dust,
for fierce Amphion led a troop of horse
Eteocles had ordered to explore
the night, to keep a vigil on the camp.
Daylight had not yet melted every shadow
when he was first to note a doubtful sight,
not too far o√, across the pathless plains—
something uncertain, like bent bodies moving.
As soon as he discovered these two men,
he challenged them, ‘‘Whoever! Halt your steps!’’
but they proceeded, carrying their burdens.
Amphion threatened them and hurled his spear
a fighting distance at those frightened soldiers.
Nonetheless he pretended his hand slipped;
the spear flew harmlessly before the eyes
of Dymas, who by chance preceded Hopleus.
Aepytus, though, was not magnanimous
399
and did not want to waste his javelin.
His weapon pierced through Hopleus and went on
to nick the shoulder blade of hanging Tydeus.
Hopleus collapsed, although he never dropped
his celebrated prince. He died as he
maintained his grip, but he was fortunate:
he never knew the body had been lost
and, ignorant, descended to the shades.
BOOK ∞≠ ≤πΩ
Dymas had turned and witnessed this. He felt
405
soldiers converging, and he was uncertain
whether to stand and fight or to submit
and try persuasion. Anger said to fight,
but Fortune said use prayer, do not be daring.
He had no confidence in either choice,
yet rage would not permit him to entreat.
He lay the mournful corpse before his feet
and wrapped a heavy tiger skin that he
by chance was wearing draped across his back
over his left arm, and he took his stance.
He held his sword extended, braced to meet
all of their weapons, and to live or die,
just as a lioness defends her young
whom she has lately borne when she confronts
Numidian hunters in her savage lair:
she is uncertain—as she roars with rage
and misery and stands before her cubs—
whether to bite their spears and scatter them
or let love overcome her savage heart
and glare with anger from among her young.
But now, although Amphion had forbidden
420
brutality, they severed his left hand.
They dragged Parthenopaeus by the hair
and Dymas prayed too late for his young friend.
He dropped his sword and begged them, ‘‘By the cradle
of Bacchus, born of lightning; by the flight
of Ino; by the youth of your Palaemon,
carry the body gently; hear my prayer!
I beg you, if by any chance you know
the joys of children, if there is a father
The Thebaid Page 43