Delphi Complete Works of Quintus Smyrnaeus

by Quintus Smyrnaeus

  The sea, the land; above crashed thunder-voiced 820

  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 830

  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 840

  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 850

  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 860

  The Hellespont’s deep waters, wailing loud

  Farewells unto the Myrmidons’ hero-king.

  Nor stayed the immortal steeds of Aeacus’ son

  Tearless beside the ships; they also mourned

  Their slain king: sorely loth were they to abide

  Longer mid mortal men or Argive steeds

  Bearing a burden of consuming grief;

  But fain were they to soar through air, afar

  From wretched men, over the Ocean’s streams,

  Over the Sea-queen’s caverns, unto where 870

  Divine Podarge bare that storm-foot twain

  Begotten of the West-wind clarion-voiced

  Yea, and they had accomplished their desire,

  But the Gods’ purpose held them back, until

  From Scyros’ isle Achilles’ fleetfoot son

  Should come. Him waited they to welcome, when

  He came unto the war-host; for the Fates,

  Daughters of holy Chaos, at their birth

  Had spun the life-threads of those deathless foals,

  Even to serve Poseidon first, and next 880

  Peleus the dauntless king, Achilles then

  The invincible, and, after these, the fourth,

  The mighty-hearted Neoptolemus,

  Whom after death to the Elysian Plain

  They were to bear, unto the Blessed Land,

  By Zeus’ decree. For which cause, though their hearts

  Were pierced with bitter anguish, they abode

  Still by the ships, with spirits sorrowing

  For their old lord, and yearning for the new.

  Then from the surge of heavy-plunging seas 890

  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 900

  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 910

  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 10

  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 20

  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; 30

  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: 40

  “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,

&nbs
p; 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.” 50

  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 60

  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. 70

  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 80

  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. 90

  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 100

  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. 110

  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 mighty son of Telamon,

  But knew not that a dark and bitter doom

  For him should follow hard upon those games 120

  By Fate’s contrivance. Answered Tydeus’ son

  “O friend, if Thetis comes indeed this day

  With goodly gifts for her son’s funeral-games,

  Then bide we by the ships, and keep we here

  All others. Meet it is to do the will

  Of the Immortals: yea, to Achilles too,

  Though the Immortals willed it not, ourselves

  Must render honour grateful to the dead.”

  So spake the battle-eager Tydeus’ son.

  And lo, the Bride of Peleus gliding came 130

  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.

  But first amidst them all rose Neleus’ son,

  Not as desiring in the strife of fists 140

  To toil, nor strain of wrestling; for his arms

  And all his sinews were with grievous eld

  Outworn, but still his heart and brain were strong.

  Of all the Achaeans none could match himself

  Against him in the folkmote’s war of words;

  Yea, even Laertes’ glorious son to him

  Ever gave place when men for speech were met;

  Nor he alone, but even the kingliest

  Of Argives, Agamemnon, lord of spears.

  Now in their midst he sang the gracious Queen 150

  Of Nereids, sang how she in willsomeness

  Of beauty was of all the Sea-maids chief.

  Well-pleased she hearkened. Yet again he sang,

  Singing of Peleus’ Bridal of Delight,

  Which all the blest Immortals brought to pass

  By Pelion’s crests; sang of the ambrosial feast

  When the swift Hours brought in immortal hands

  Meats not of earth, and heaped in golden maunds;

  Sang how the silver tables were set forth

  In haste by Themis blithely laughing; sang 160

  How breathed Hephaestus purest flame of fire;

  Sang how the Nymphs in golden chalices

  Mingled ambrosia; sang the ravishing dance

  Twined by the Graces’ feet; sang of the chant

  The Muses raised, and how its spell enthralled

  All mountains, rivers, all the forest brood;

  How raptured was the infinite firmament,

  Cheiron’s fair caverns, yea, the very Gods.

  Such noble strain did Neleus’ son pour out

  Into the Argives’ eager ears; and they 170

  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, 180

  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; 190

  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. 200

  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 210

  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 220

  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 230

  Close on the end they were, then Teucer’s feet

  Were trammelled by unearthly powers: some god