Delphi Complete Works of Quintus Smyrnaeus

by Quintus Smyrnaeus

  Or demon dashed his foot against the stock

  Of a deep-rooted tamarisk. Sorely wrenched

  Was his left ankle: round the joint upswelled

  The veins high-ridged. A great shout rang from all

  That watched the contest. Aias darted past

  Exultant: ran his Locrian folk to hail

  Their lord, with sudden joy in all their souls.

  Then to his ships they drave the kine, and cast 240

  Fodder before them. Eager-helpful friends

  Led Teucer halting thence. The leeches drew

  Blood from his foot: then over it they laid

  Soft-shredded linen ointment-smeared, and swathed

  With smooth bands round, and charmed away the pain.

  Then swiftly rose two mighty-hearted ones

  Eager to match their strength in wrestling strain,

  The son of Tydeus and the giant Aias.

  Into the midst they strode, and marvelling gazed

  The Argives on men shapen like to gods. 250

  Then grappled they, like lions famine-stung

  Fighting amidst the mountains o’er a stag,

  Whose strength is even-balanced; no whit less

  Is one than other in their deadly rage;

  So these long time in might were even-matched,

  Till Aias locked his strong hands round the son

  Of Tydeus, straining hard to break his back;

  But he, with wrestling-craft and strength combined,

  Shifted his hip ‘neath Telamon’s son, and heaved

  The giant up; with a side-twist wrenched free 260

  From Aias’ ankle-lock his thigh, and so

  With one huge shoulder-heave to earth he threw

  That mighty champion, and himself came down

  Astride him: then a mighty shout went up.

  But battle-stormer Aias, chafed in mind,

  Sprang up, hot-eager to essay again

  That grim encounter. From his terrible hands

  He dashed the dust, and challenged furiously

  With a great voice Tydeides: not a whit

  That other quailed, but rushed to close with him. 270

  Rolled up the dust in clouds from ‘neath their feet:

  Hurtling they met like battling mountain-bulls

  That clash to prove their dauntless strength, and spurn

  The dust, while with their roaring all the hills

  Re-echo: in their desperate fury these

  Dash their strong heads together, straining long

  Against each other with their massive strength,

  Hard-panting in the fierce rage of their strife,

  While from their mouths drip foam-flakes to the ground;

  So strained they twain with grapple of brawny hands. 280

  ‘Neath that hard grip their backs and sinewy necks

  Cracked, even as when in mountain-glades the trees

  Dash storm-tormented boughs together. Oft

  Tydeides clutched at Aias’ brawny thighs,

  But could not stir his steadfast-rooted feet.

  Oft Aias hurled his whole weight on him, bowed

  His shoulders backward, strove to press him down;

  And to new grips their hands were shifting aye.

  All round the gazing people shouted, some

  Cheering on glorious Tydeus’ son, and some 290

  The might of Aias. Then the giant swung

  The shoulders of his foe to right, to left;

  Then gripped him ‘neath the waist; with one fierce heave

  And giant effort hurled him like a stone

  To earth. The floor of Troyland rang again

  As fell Tydeides: shouted all the folk.

  Yet leapt he up all eager to contend

  With giant Aias for the third last fall:

  But Nestor rose and spake unto the twain:

  “From grapple of wrestling, noble sons, forbear; 300

  For all we know that ye be mightiest

  Of Argives since the great Achilles died.”

  Then these from toil refrained, and from their brows

  Wiped with their hands the plenteous-streaming sweat:

  They kissed each other, and forgat their strife.

  Then Thetis, queen of Goddesses, gave to them

  Four handmaids; and those strong and aweless ones

  Marvelled beholding them, for these surpassed

  All captive-maids in beauty and household-skill,

  Save only lovely-tressed Briseis. These 310

  Achilles captive brought from Lesbos’ Isle,

  And in their service joyed. The first was made

  Stewardess of the feast and lady of meats;

  The second to the feasters poured the wine;

  The third shed water on their hands thereafter;

  The fourth bare all away, the banquet done.

  These Tydeus’ son and giant Aias shared,

  And, parted two and two, unto their ships

  Sent they those fair and serviceable ones.

  Next, for the play of fists Idomeneus rose, 320

  For cunning was he in all athlete-lore;

  But none came forth to meet him, yielding all

  To him, the elder-born, with reverent awe.

  So in their midst gave Thetis unto him

  A chariot and fleet steeds, which theretofore

  Mighty Patroclus from the ranks of Troy

  Drave, when he slew Sarpedon, seed of Zeus,

  These to his henchmen gave Idomeneus

  To drive unto the ships: himself remained

  Still sitting in the glorious athlete-ring. 330

  Then Phoenix to the stalwart Argives cried:

  “Now to Idomeneus the Gods have given

  A fair prize uncontested, free of toil

  Of mighty arms and shoulders, honouring

  The elder-born with bloodless victory.

  But lo, ye younger men, another prize

  Awaiteth the swift play of cunning hands.

  Step forth then: gladden great Peleides’ soul.”

  He spake, they heard; but each on other looked,

  And, loth to essay the contest, all sat still, 340

  Till Neleus’ son rebuked those laggard souls:

  “Friends, it were shame that men should shun the play

  Of clenched hands, who in that noble sport

  Have skill, wherein young men delight, which links

  Glory to toil. Ah that my thews were strong

  As when we held King Pelias’ funeral-feast,

  I and Acastus, kinsmen joining hands,

  When I with godlike Polydeuces stood

  In gauntlet-strife, in even-balanced fray,

  And when Ancaeus in the wrestlers’ ring 350

  Mightier than all beside, yet feared and shrank

  From me, and dared not strive with me that day,

  For that ere then amidst the Epeian men —

  No battle-blenchers they! — I had vanquished him,

  For all his might, and dashed him to the dust

  By dead Amaryncus’ tomb, and thousands round

  Sat marvelling at my prowess and my strength.

  Therefore against me not a second time

  Raised he his hands, strong wrestler though he were;

  And so I won an uncontested prize. 360

  But now old age is on me, and many griefs.

  Therefore I bid you, whom it well beseems,

  To win the prize; for glory crowns the youth

  Who bears away the meed of athlete-strife.”

  Stirred by his gallant chiding, a brave man

  Rose, son of haughty godlike Panopeus,

  The man who framed the Horse, the bane of Troy,

  Not long thereafter. None dared meet him now

  In play of fists, albeit in deadly craft

  Of war, when Ares rusheth through the field, 370

  He was not cunning. But for strife of hands

  The fair priz
e uncontested had been won

  By stout Epeius — yea, he was at point

  To bear it thence unto the Achaean ships;

  But one strode forth to meet him, Theseus’ son,

  The spearman Acamas, the mighty of heart,

  Bearing already on his swift hands girt

  The hard hide-gauntlets, which Evenor’s son

  Agelaus on his prince’s hands had drawn

  With courage-kindling words. The comrades then 380

  Of Panopeus’ princely son for Epeius raised

  A heartening cheer. He like a lion stood

  Forth in the midst, his strong hands gauntleted

  With bull’s hide hard as horn. Loud rang the cheers

  From side to side of that great throng, to fire

  The courage of the mighty ones to clash

  Hands in the gory play. Sooth, little spur

  Needed they for their eagerness for fight.

  But, ere they closed, they flashed out proving blows

  To wot if still, as theretofore, their arms 390

  Were limber and lithe, unclogged by toil of war;

  Then faced each other, and upraised their hands

  With ever-watching eyes, and short quick steps

  A-tiptoe, and with ever-shifting feet,

  Each still eluding other’s crushing might.

  Then with a rush they closed like thunder-clouds

  Hurled on each other by the tempest-blast,

  Flashing forth lightnings, while the welkin thrills

  As clash the clouds and hollow roar the winds;

  So ‘neath the hard hide-gauntlets clashed their jaws. 400

  Down streamed the blood, and from their brows the sweat

  Blood-streaked made on the flushed cheeks crimson bars.

  Fierce without pause they fought, and never flagged

  Epeius, but threw all his stormy strength

  Into his onrush. Yet did Theseus’ son

  Never lose heart, but baffled the straight blows

  Of those strong hands, and by his fighting-craft

  Flinging them right and left, leapt in, brought home

  A blow to his eyebrow, cutting to the bone.

  Even then with counter-stroke Epeius reached 410

  Acamas’ temple, and hurled him to the ground.

  Swift he sprang up, and on his stalwart foe

  Rushed, smote his head: as he rushed in again,

  The other, slightly swerving, sent his left

  Clean to his brow; his right, with all his might

  Behind it, to his nose. Yet Acamas still

  Warded and struck with all the manifold shifts

  Of fighting-craft. But now the Achaeans all

  Bade stop the fight, though eager still were both

  To strive for coveted victory. Then came 420

  Their henchmen, and the gory gauntlets loosed

  In haste from those strong hands. Now drew they breath

  From that great labour, as they bathed their brows

  With sponges myriad-pored. Comrades and friends

  With pleading words then drew them face to face,

  And prayed, “In friendship straight forget your wrath.”

  So to their comrades’ suasion hearkened they;

  For wise men ever bear a placable mind.

  They kissed each other, and their hearts forgat

  That bitter strife. Then Thetis sable-stoled 430

  Gave to their glad hands two great silver bowls

  The which Euneus, Jason’s warrior son

  In sea-washed Lemnos to Achilles gave

  To ransom strong Lycaon from his hands.

  These had Hephaestus fashioned for his gift

  To glorious Dionysus, when he brought

  His bride divine to Olympus, Minos’ child

  Far-famous, whom in sea-washed Dia’s isle

  Theseus unwitting left. The Wine-god brimmed

  With nectar these, and gave them to his son; 440

  And Thoas at his death to Hypsipyle

  With great possessions left them. She bequeathed

  The bowls to her godlike son, who gave them up

  Unto Achilles for Lycaon’s life.

  The one the son of lordly Theseus took,

  And goodly Epeius sent to his ship with joy

  The other. Then their bruises and their scars

  Did Podaleirius tend with loving care.

  First pressed he out black humours, then his hands

  Deftly knit up the gashes: salves he laid 450

  Thereover, given him by his sire of old,

  Such as had virtue in one day to heal

  The deadliest hurts, yea, seeming-cureless wounds.

  Straight was the smart assuaged, and healed the scars

  Upon their brows and ‘neath their clustering hair

  Then for the archery-test Oileus’ son

  Stood forth with Teucer, they which in the race

  Erewhile contended. Far away from these

  Agamemnon, lord of spears, set up a helm

  Crested with plumes, and spake: “The master-shot 460

  Is that which shears the hair-crest clean away.”

  Then straightway Aias shot his arrow first,

  And smote the helm-ridge: sharply rang the brass.

  Then Teucer second with most earnest heed

  Shot: the swift shaft hath shorn the plume away.

  Loud shouted all the people as they gazed,

  And praised him without stint, for still his foot

  Halted in pain, yet nowise marred his aim

  When with his hands he sped the flying shaft.

  Then Peleus’ bride gave unto him the arms 470

  Of godlike Troilus, the goodliest

  Of all fair sons whom Hecuba had borne

  In hallowed Troy; yet of his goodlihead

  No joy she had; the prowess and the spear

  Of fell Achilles reft his life from him.

  As when a gardener with new-whetted scythe

  Mows down, ere it may seed, a blade of corn

  Or poppy, in a garden dewy-fresh

  And blossom-flushed, which by a water-course

  Crowdeth its blooms — mows it ere it may reach 480

  Its goal of bringing offspring to the birth,

  And with his scythe-sweep makes its life-work vain

  And barren of all issue, nevermore

  Now to be fostered by the dews of spring;

  So did Peleides cut down Priam’s son

  The god-like beautiful, the beardless yet

  And virgin of a bride, almost a child!

  Yet the Destroyer Fate had lured him on

  To war, upon the threshold of glad youth,

  When youth is bold, and the heart feels no void. 490

  Forthwith a bar of iron massy and long

  From the swift-speeding hand did many essay

  To hurl; but not an Argive could prevail

  To cast that ponderous mass. Aias alone

  Sped it from his strong hand, as in the time

  Of harvest might a reaper fling from him

  A dry oak-bough, when all the fields are parched.

  And all men marvelled to behold how far

  Flew from his hand the bronze which scarce two men

  Hard-straining had uplifted from the ground. 500

  Even this Antaeus’ might was wont to hurl

  Erstwhile, ere the strong hands of Hercules

  O’ermastered him. This, with much spoil beside,

  Hercules took, and kept it to make sport

  For his invincible hand; but afterward

  Gave it to valiant Peleus, who with him

  Had smitten fair-towered Ilium’s burg renowned;

  And he to Achilles gave it, whose swift ships

  Bare it to Troy, to put him aye in mind

  Of his own father, as with eager will 510

  He fought with stalwart Trojans, and to be

  A worthy test wherewith
to prove his strength.

  Even this did Aias from his brawny hand

  Fling far. So then the Nereid gave to him

  The glorious arms from godlike Memnon stripped.

  Marvelling the Argives gazed on them: they were

  A giant’s war-gear. Laughing a glad laugh

  That man renowned received them: he alone

  Could wear them on his brawny limbs; they seemed

  As they had even been moulded to his frame. 520

  The great bar thence he bore withal, to be

  His joy when he was fain of athlete-toil.

  Still sped the contests on; and many rose

  Now for the leaping. Far beyond the marks

  Of all the rest brave Agapenor sprang:

  Loud shouted all for that victorious leap;

  And Thetis gave him the fair battle-gear

  Of mighty Cycnus, who had smitten first

  Protesilaus, then had reft the life

  From many more, till Peleus’ son slew him 530

  First of the chiefs of grief-enshrouded Troy.

  Next, in the javelin-cast Euryalus

  Hurled far beyond all rivals, while the folk

  Shouted aloud: no archer, so they deemed,

  Could speed a winged shaft farther than his cast;

  Therefore the Aeacid hero’s mother gave

  To him a deep wide silver oil-flask, ta’en

  By Achilles in possession, when his spear

  Slew Mynes, and he spoiled Lyrnessus’ wealth.

  Then fiery-hearted Aias eagerly 540

  Rose, challenging to strife of hands and feet

  The mightiest hero there; but marvelling

  They marked his mighty thews, and no man dared

  Confront him. Chilling dread had palsied all

  Their courage: from their hearts they feared him, lest

  His hands invincible should all to-break

  His adversary’s face, and naught but pain

  Be that man’s meed. But at the last all men

  Made signs to battle-bider Euryalus,

  For well they knew him skilled in fighting-craft; 550

  But he too feared that giant, and he cried:

  “Friends, any other Achaean, whom ye will,

  Blithe will I face; but mighty Alas — no!

  Far doth he overmatch me. He will rend

  Mine heart, if in the onset anger rise

  Within him: from his hands invincible,

  I trow, I should not win to the ships alive.”

  Loud laughed they all: but glowed with triumph-joy

  The heart of Aias. Gleaming talents twain

  Of silver he from Thetis’ hands received, 560

  His uncontested prize. His stately height