Delphi Complete Works of Quintus Smyrnaeus

by Quintus Smyrnaeus

Upon a boar, the beast that flincheth not

  From fight with man or brute, whose charge is a flash

  Of lightning; so was his swift leap. His foe

  Antilochus caught a huge stone from the ground,

  Hurled, smote him; but unshaken abode his strength,

  For the strong helm-crest fenced his head from death; 330

  But rang the morion round his brows. His heart

  Kindled with terrible fury at the blow

  More than before against Antilochus.

  Like seething cauldron boiled his maddened might.

  He stabbed, for all his cunning of fence, the son

  Of Nestor above the breast; the crashing spear

  Plunged to the heart, the spot of speediest death.

  Then upon all the Danaans at his fall

  Came grief; but anguish-stricken was the heart

  Of Nestor most of all, to see his child 340

  Slain in his sight; for no more bitter pang

  Smiteth the heart of man than when a son

  Perishes, and his father sees him die.

  Therefore, albeit unused to melting mood,

  His soul was torn with agony for the son

  By black death slain. A wild cry hastily

  To Thrasymedes did he send afar:

  “Hither to me, Thrasymedes war-renowned!

  Help me to thrust back from thy brother’s corse,

  Yea, from mine hapless son, his murderer, 350

  That so ourselves may render to our dead

  All dues of mourning. If thou flinch for fear,

  No son of mine art thou, nor of the line

  Of Periclymenus, who dared withstand

  Hercules’ self. Come, to the battle-toil!

  For grim necessity oftentimes inspires

  The very coward with courage of despair.”

  Then at his cry that brother’s heart was stung

  With bitter grief. Swift for his help drew nigh

  Phereus, on whom for his great prince’s fall 360

  Came anguish. Charged these warriors twain to face

  Strong Memnon in the gory strife. As when

  Two hunters ‘mid a forest’s mountain-folds,

  Eager to take the prey, rush on to meet

  A wild boar or a bear, with hearts afire

  To slay him, but in furious mood he leaps

  On them, and holds at bay the might of men;

  So swelled the heart of Memnon. Nigh drew they,

  Yet vainly essayed to slay him, as they hurled

  The long spears, but the lances glanced aside 370

  Far from his flesh: the Dawn-queen turned them thence.

  Yet fell their spears not vainly to the ground:

  The lance of fiery-hearted Phereus, winged

  With eager speed, dealt death to Meges’ son,

  Polymnius: Laomedon was slain

  By the wrath of Nestor’s son for a brother dead,

  The dear one Memnon slew in battle-rout,

  And whom the slayer’s war-unwearied hands

  Now stripped of his all-brazen battle-gear,

  Nought recking, he, of Thrasymedes’ might, 380

  Nor of stout Phereus, who were unto him

  But weaklings. A great lion seemed he there

  Standing above a hart, as jackals they,

  That, howso hungry, dare not come too nigh.

  But hard thereby the father gazed thereon

  In agony, and cried the rescue-cry

  To other his war-comrades for their aid

  Against the foe. Himself too burned to fight

  From his war-car; for yearning for the dead

  Goaded him to the fray beyond his strength. 390

  Ay, and himself had been on his dear son

  Laid, numbered with the dead, had not the voice

  Of Memnon stayed him even in act to rush

  Upon him, for he reverenced in his heart

  The white hairs of an age-mate of his sire:

  “Ancient,” he cried, “it were my shame to fight.

  With one so much mine elder: I am not

  Blind unto honour. Verily I weened

  That this was some young warrior, when I saw

  Thee facing thus the foe. My bold heart hoped 400

  For contest worthy of mine hand and spear.

  Nay, draw thou back afar from battle-toil

  And bitter death. Go, lest, how loth soe’er,

  I smite thee of sore need. Nay, fall not thou

  Beside thy son, against a mightier man

  Fighting, lest men with folly thee should charge,

  For folly it is that braves o’ermastering might.”

  He spake, and answered him that warrior old:

  “Nay, Memnon, vain was that last word of thine.

  None would name fool the father who essayed, 410

  Battling with foes for his son’s sake, to thrust

  The ruthless slayer back from that dear corpse,

  But ah that yet my strength were whole in me,

  That thou might’st know my spear! Now canst thou vaunt

  Proudly enow: a young man’s heart is bold

  And light his wit. Uplifted is thy soul

  And vain thy speech. If in my strength of youth

  Thou hadst met me — ha, thy friends had not rejoiced,

  For all thy might! But me the grievous weight

  Of age bows down, like an old lion whom 420

  A cur may boldly drive back from the fold,

  For that he cannot, in his wrath’s despite,

  Maintain his own cause, being toothless now,

  And strengthless, and his strong heart tamed by time.

  So well the springs of olden strength no more

  Now in my breast. Yet am I stronger still

  Than many men; my grey hairs yield to few

  That have within them all the strength of youth.”

  So drew he back a little space, and left

  Lying in dust his son, since now no more 430

  Lived in the once lithe limbs the olden strength,

  For the years’ weight lay heavy on his head.

  Back leapt Thrasymedes likewise, spearman good,

  And battle-eager Phereus, and the rest

  Their comrades; for that slaughter-dealing man

  Pressed hard on them. As when from mountains high

  A shouting river with wide-echoing din

  Sweeps down its fathomless whirlpools through the gloom,

  When God with tumult of a mighty storm

  Hath palled the sky in cloud from verge to verge, 440

  When thunders crash all round, when thick and fast

  Gleam lightnings from the huddling clouds, when fields

  Are flooded as the hissing rain descends,

  And all the air is filled with awful roar

  Of torrents pouring down the hill-ravines;

  So Memnon toward the shores of Hellespont

  Before him hurled the Argives, following hard

  Behind them, slaughtering ever. Many a man

  Fell in the dust, and left his life in blood

  ‘Neath Aethiop hands. Stained was the earth with gore 450

  As Danaans died. Exulted Memnon’s soul

  As on the ranks of foemen ever he rushed,

  And heaped with dead was all the plain of Troy.

  And still from fight refrained he not; he hoped

  To be a light of safety unto Troy

  And bane to Danaans. But all the while

  Stood baleful Doom beside him, and spurred on

  To strife, with flattering smile. To right, to left

  His stalwart helpers wrought in battle-toil,

  Alcyoneus and Nychius, and the son 460

  Of Asius furious-souled; Meneclus’ spear,

  Clydon and Alexippus, yea, a host

  Eager to chase the foe, men who in fight

  Quit them like men, exulting in their king.

  Then, as Meneclus on the Da
naans charged,

  The son of Neleus slew him. Wroth for his friend,

  Whole throngs of foes fierce-hearted Memnon slew.

  As when a hunter midst the mountains drives

  Swift deer within the dark lines of his toils —

  The eager ring of beaters closing in 470

  Presses the huddled throng into the snares

  Of death: the dogs are wild with joy of the chase

  Ceaselessly giving tongue, the while his darts

  Leap winged with death on brocket and on hind;

  So Memnon slew and ever slew: his men

  Rejoiced, the while in panic stricken rout

  Before that glorious man the Argives fled.

  As when from a steep mountain’s precipice-brow

  Leaps a huge crag, which all-resistless Zeus

  By stroke of thunderbolt hath hurled from the crest; 480

  Crash oakwood copses, echo long ravines,

  Shudders the forest to its rattle and roar,

  And flocks therein and herds and wild things flee

  Scattering, as bounding, whirling, it descends

  With deadly pitiless onrush; so his foes

  Fled from the lightning-flash of Memnon’s spear.

  Then to the side of Aeacus’ mighty son

  Came Nestor. Anguished for his son he cried:

  “Achilles, thou great bulwark of the Greeks,

  Slain is my child! The armour of my dead 490

  Hath Memnon, and I fear me lest his corse

  Be cast a prey to dogs. Haste to his help!

  True friend is he who still remembereth

  A friend though slain, and grieves for one no more.”

  Achilles heard; his heart was thrilled with grief:

  He glanced across the rolling battle, saw

  Memnon, saw where in throngs the Argives fell

  Beneath his spear. Forthright he turned away

  From where the rifted ranks of Troy fell fast

  Before his hands, and, thirsting for the fight, 500

  Wroth for Antilochus and the others slain,

  Came face to face with Memnon. In his hands

  That godlike hero caught up from the ground

  A stone, a boundary-mark ‘twixt fields of wheat,

  And hurled. Down on the shield of Peleus’ son

  It crashed. But he, the invincible, shrank not

  Before the huge rock-shard, but, thrusting out

  His long lance, rushed to close with him, afoot,

  For his steeds stayed behind the battle-rout.

  On the right shoulder above the shield he smote 510

  And staggered him; but he, despite the wound,

  Fought on with heart unquailing. Swiftly he thrust

  And pricked with his strong spear Achilles’ arm.

  Forth gushed the blood: rejoicing with vain joy

  To Aeacus’ son with arrogant words he cried:

  “Now shalt thou in thy death fill up, I trow,

  Thy dark doom, overmastered by mine hands.

  Thou shalt not from this fray escape alive!

  Fool, wherefore hast thou ruthlessly destroyed

  Trojans, and vaunted thee the mightiest man 520

  Of men, a deathless Nereid’s son? Ha, now

  Thy doom hath found thee! Of birth divine am I,

  The Dawn-queen’s mighty son, nurtured afar

  By lily-slender Hesperid Maids, beside

  The Ocean-river. Therefore not from thee

  Nor from grim battle shrink I, knowing well

  How far my goddess-mother doth transcend

  A Nereid, whose child thou vauntest thee.

  To Gods and men my mother bringeth light;

  On her depends the issue of all things, 530

  Works great and glorious in Olympus wrought

  Whereof comes blessing unto men. But thine —

  She sits in barren crypts of brine: she dwells

  Glorying mid dumb sea-monsters and mid fish,

  Deedless, unseen! Nothing I reck of her,

  Nor rank her with the immortal Heavenly Ones.”

  In stern rebuke spake Aeacus’ aweless son:

  “Memnon, how wast thou so distraught of wit

  That thou shouldst face me, and to fight defy

  Me, who in might, in blood, in stature far 540

  Surpass thee? From supremest Zeus I trace

  My glorious birth; and from the strong Sea-god

  Nereus, begetter of the Maids of the Sea,

  The Nereids, honoured of the Olympian Gods.

  And chiefest of them all is Thetis, wise

  With wisdom world-renowned; for in her bowers

  She sheltered Dionysus, chased by might

  Of murderous Lycurgus from the earth.

  Yea, and the cunning God-smith welcomed she

  Within her mansion, when from heaven he fell. 550

  Ay, and the Lightning-lord she once released

  From bonds. The all-seeing Dwellers in the Sky

  Remember all these things, and reverence

  My mother Thetis in divine Olympus.

  Ay, that she is a Goddess shalt thou know

  When to thine heart the brazen spear shall pierce

  Sped by my might. Patroclus’ death I avenged

  On Hector, and Antilochus on thee

  Will I avenge. No weakling’s friend thou hast slain!

  But why like witless children stand we here 560

  Babbling our parents’ fame and our own deeds?

  Now is the hour when prowess shall decide.”

  Then from the sheath he flashed his long keen sword,

  And Memnon his; and swiftly in fiery fight

  Closed they, and rained the never-ceasing blows

  Upon the bucklers which with craft divine

  Hephaestus’ self had fashioned. Once and again

  Clashed they together, and their cloudy crests

  Touched, mingling all their tossing storm of hair.

  And Zeus, for that he loved them both, inspired 570

  With prowess each, and mightier than their wont

  He made them, made them tireless, nothing like

  To men, but Gods: and gloated o’er the twain

  The Queen of Strife. In eager fury these

  Thrust swiftly out the spear, with fell intent

  To reach the throat ‘twixt buckler-rim and helm,

  Thrust many a time and oft, and now would aim

  The point beneath the shield, above the greave,

  Now close beneath the corslet curious-wrought

  That lapped the stalwart frame: hard, fast they lunged, 580

  And on their shoulders clashed the arms divine.

  Roared to the very heavens the battle-shout

  Of warring men, of Trojans, Aethiops,

  And Argives mighty-hearted, while the dust

  Rolled up from ‘neath their feet, tossed to the sky

  In stress of battle-travail great and strong.

  As when a mist enshrouds the hills, what time

  Roll up the rain-clouds, and the torrent-beds

  Roar as they fill with rushing floods, and howls

  Each gorge with fearful voices; shepherds quake 590

  To see the waters’ downrush and the mist,

  Screen dear to wolves and all the wild fierce things

  Nursed in the wide arms of the forest; so

  Around the fighters’ feet the choking dust

  Hung, hiding the fair splendour of the sun

  And darkening all the heaven. Sore distressed

  With dust and deadly conflict were the folk.

  Then with a sudden hand some Blessed One

  Swept the dust-pall aside; and the Gods saw

  The deadly Fates hurling the charging lines 600

  Together, in the unending wrestle locked

  Of that grim conflict, saw where never ceased

  Ares from hideous slaughter, saw the earth

  Crimsoned all ro
und with rushing streams of blood,

  Saw where dark Havoc gloated o’er the scene,

  Saw the wide plain with corpses heaped, even all

  Bounded ‘twixt Simois and Xanthus, where

  They sweep from Ida down to Hellespont.

  But when long lengthened out the conflict was

  Of those two champions, and the might of both 610

  In that strong tug and strain was equal-matched,

  Then, gazing from Olympus’ far-off heights,

  The Gods joyed, some in the invincible son

  Of Peleus, others in the goodly child

  Of old Tithonus and the Queen of Dawn.

  Thundered the heavens on high from east to west,

  And roared the sea from verge to verge, and rocked

  The dark earth ‘neath the heroes’ feet, and quaked

  Proud Nereus’ daughters all round Thetis thronged

  In grievous fear for mighty Achilles’ sake; 620

  And trembled for her son the Child of the Mist

  As in her chariot through the sky she rode.

  Marvelled the Daughters of the Sun, who stood

  Near her, around that wondrous splendour-ring

  Traced for the race-course of the tireless sun

  By Zeus, the limit of all Nature’s life

  And death, the dally round that maketh up

  The eternal circuit of the rolling years.

  And now amongst the Blessed bitter feud

  Had broken out; but by behest of Zeus 630

  The twin Fates suddenly stood beside these twain,

  One dark — her shadow fell on Memnon’s heart;

  One bright — her radiance haloed Peleus’ son.

  And with a great cry the Immortals saw,

  And filled with sorrow they of the one part were,

  They of the other with triumphant joy.

  Still in the midst of blood-stained battle-rout

  Those heroes fought, unknowing of the Fates

  Now drawn so nigh, but each at other hurled

  His whole heart’s courage, all his bodily might. 640

  Thou hadst said that in the strife of that dread day

  Huge tireless Giants or strong Titans warred,

  So fiercely blazed the wildfire of their strife,

  Now, when they clashed with swords, now when they leapt

  Hurling huge stones. Nor either would give back

  Before the hail of blows, nor quailed. They stood

  Like storm-tormented headlands steadfast, clothed

  With might past words, unearthly; for the twain

  Alike could boast their lineage of high Zeus.

  Therefore ‘twixt these Enyo lengthened out 650

  The even-balanced strife, while ever they