Delphi Complete Works of Quintus Smyrnaeus

by Quintus Smyrnaeus

  To rend the man whose hand first wounded him;

  So fierce Eurypylus on Machaon rushed.

  The long lance shot out swiftly, and pierced him through

  On the right haunch; yet would he not give back,

  Nor flinch from the onset, fast though flowed the blood.

  In haste he snatched a huge stone from the ground,

  And dashed it on the head of Telephus’ son;

  But his helm warded him from death or harm

  Then waxed Eurypylus more hotly wroth

  With that strong warrior, and in fury of soul 450

  Clear through Machaon’s breast he drave his spear,

  And through the midriff passed the gory point.

  He fell, as falls beneath a lion’s jaws

  A bull, and round him clashed his glancing arms.

  Swiftly Eurypylus plucked the lance of death

  Out of the wound, and vaunting cried aloud:

  “Wretch, wisdom was not bound up in thine heart,

  That thou, a weakling, didst come forth to fight

  A mightier. Therefore art thou in the toils

  Of Doom. Much profit shall be thine, when kites 460

  Devour the flesh of thee in battle slain!

  Ha, dost thou hope still to return, to ‘scape

  Mine hands? A leech art thou, and soothing salves

  Thou knowest, and by these didst haply hope

  To flee the evil day! Not thine own sire,

  On the wind’s wings descending from Olympus,

  Should save thy life, not though between thy lips

  He should pour nectar and ambrosia!”

  Faint-breathing answered him the dying man:

  “Eurypylus, thine own weird is to live 470

  Not long: Fate is at point to meet thee here

  On Troy’s plain, and to still thine impious tongue.”

  So passed his spirit into Hades’ halls.

  Then to the dead man spake his conqueror:

  “Now on the earth lie thou. What shall betide

  Hereafter, care I not — yea, though this day

  Death’s doom stand by my feet: no man may live

  For ever: each man’s fate is foreordained.”

  Stabbing the corpse he spake. Then shouted loud

  Teucer, at seeing Machaon in the dust. 480

  Far thence he stood hard-toiling in the fight,

  For on the centre sore the battle lay:

  Foe after foe pressed on; yet not for this

  Was Teucer heedless of the fallen brave,

  Neither of Nireus lying hard thereby

  Behind Machaon in the dust. He saw,

  And with a great voice raised the rescue-cry:

  “Charge, Argives! Flinch not from the charging foe!

  For shame unspeakable shall cover us

  If Trojan men hale back to Ilium 490

  Noble Machaon and Nireus godlike-fair.

  Come, with a good heart let us face the foe

  To rescue these slain friends, or fall ourselves

  Beside them. Duty bids that men defend

  Friends, and to aliens leave them not a prey,

  Not without sweat of toil is glory won!”

  Then were the Danaans anguish-stung: the earth

  All round them dyed they red with blood of slain,

  As foe fought foe in even-balanced fight.

  By this to Podaleirius tidings came 500

  How that in dust his brother lay, struck down

  By woeful death. Beside the ships he sat

  Ministering to the hurts of men with spears

  Stricken. In wrath for his brother’s sake he rose,

  He clad him in his armour; in his breast

  Dread battle-prowess swelled. For conflict grim

  He panted: boiled the mad blood round his heart

  He leapt amidst the foemen; his swift hands

  Swung the snake-headed javelin up, and hurled,

  And slew with its winged speed Agamestor’s son 510

  Cleitus, a bright-haired Nymph had given him birth

  Beside Parthenius, whose quiet stream

  Fleets smooth as oil through green lands, till it pours

  Its shining ripples to the Euxine sea.

  Then by his warrior-brother laid he low

  Lassus, whom Pronoe, fair as a goddess, bare

  Beside Nymphaeus’ stream, hard by a cave,

  A wide and wondrous cave: sacred it is

  Men say, unto the Nymphs, even all that haunt

  The long-ridged Paphlagonian hills, and all 520

  That by full-clustered Heracleia dwell.

  That cave is like the work of gods, of stone

  In manner marvellous moulded: through it flows

  Cold water crystal-clear: in niches round

  Stand bowls of stone upon the rugged rock,

  Seeming as they were wrought by carvers’ hands.

  Statues of Wood-gods stand around, fair Nymphs,

  Looms, distaffs, all such things as mortal craft

  Fashioneth. Wondrous seem they unto men

  Which pass into that hallowed cave. It hath, 530

  Up-leading and down-leading, doorways twain,

  Facing, the one, the wild North’s shrilling blasts,

  And one the dank rain-burdened South. By this

  Do mortals pass beneath the Nymphs’ wide cave;

  But that is the Immortals’ path: no man

  May tread it, for a chasm deep and wide

  Down-reaching unto Hades, yawns between.

  This track the Blest Gods may alone behold.

  So died a host on either side that warred

  Over Machaon and Aglaia’s son. 540

  But at the last through desperate wrestle of fight

  The Danaans rescued them: yet few were they

  Which bare them to the ships: by bitter stress

  Of conflict were the more part compassed round,

  And needs must still abide the battle’s brunt.

  But when full many had filled the measure up

  Of fate, mid tumult, blood and agony,

  Then to their ships did many Argives flee

  Pressed by Eurypylus hard, an avalanche

  Of havoc. Yet a few abode the strife 550

  Round Aias and the Atreidae rallying;

  And haply these had perished all, beset

  By throngs on throngs of foes on every hand,

  Had not Oileus’ son stabbed with his spear

  ‘Twixt shoulder and breast war-wise Polydamas;

  Forth gushed the blood, and he recoiled a space.

  Then Menelaus pierced Deiphobus

  By the right breast, that with swift feet he fled.

  And many of that slaughter-breathing throng

  Were slain by Agamemnon: furiously 560

  He rushed on godlike Aethicus with the spear;

  But he shrank from the forefront back mid friends.

  Now when Eurypylus the battle-stay

  Marked how the ranks of Troy gave back from fight,

  He turned him from the host that he had chased

  Even to the ships, and rushed with eagle-swoop

  On Atreus’ strong sons and Oileus’ seed

  Stout-hearted, who was passing fleet of foot

  And in fight peerless. Swiftly he charged on these

  Grasping his spear long-shafted: at Iris side 570

  Charged Paris, charged Aeneas stout of heart,

  Who hurled a stone exceeding huge, that crashed

  On Aias’ helmet: dashed to the dust he was,

  Yet gave not up the ghost, whose day of doom

  Was fate-ordained amidst Caphaerus’ rocks

  On the home-voyage. Now his valiant men

  Out of the foes’ hands snatched him, bare him thence,

  Scarce drawing breath, to the Achaean ships.

  And now the Atreid kings, the war-renowned,

  Were left alone, and murder-breathing foes 580 />
  Encompassed them, and hurled from every side

  Whate’er their hands might find the deadly shaft

  Some showered, some the stone, the javelin some.

  They in the midst aye turned this way and that,

  As boars or lions compassed round with pales

  On that day when kings gather to the sport

  The people, and have penned the mighty beasts

  Within the toils of death; but these, although

  With walls ringed round, yet tear with tusk and fang

  What luckless thrall soever draweth near. 590

  So these death-compassed heroes slew their foes

  Ever as they pressed on. Yet had their might

  Availed not for defence, for all their will,

  Had Teucer and Idomeneus strong of heart

  Come not to help, with Thoas, Meriones,

  And godlike Thrasymedes, they which shrank

  Erewhile before Eurypylus yea, had fled

  Unto the ships to ‘scape the crushing doom,

  But that, in fear for Atreus’ sons, they rallied

  Against Eurypylus: deadly waxed the fight. 600

  Then Teucer with a mighty spear-thrust smote

  Aeneas’ shield, yet wounded not his flesh,

  For the great fourfold buckler warded him;

  Yet feared he, and recoiled a little space.

  Leapt Meriones upon Laophoon

  The son of Paeon, born by Axius’ flood

  Of bright-haired Cleomede. Unto Troy

  With noble Asteropaeus had he come

  To aid her folk: him Meriones’ keen spear

  Stabbed ‘neath the navel, and the lance-head tore 610

  His bowels forth; swift sped his soul away

  Into the Shadow-land. Alcimedes,

  The warrior-friend of Aias, Oileus’ son,

  Shot mid the press of Trojans; for he sped

  With taunting shout a sharp stone from a sling

  Into their battle’s heart. They quailed in fear

  Before the hum and onrush of the bolt.

  Fate winged its flight to the bold charioteer

  Of Pammon, Hippasus’ son: his brow it smote

  While yet he grasped the reins, and flung him stunned 620

  Down from the chariot-seat before the wheels.

  The rushing war-wain whirled his wretched form

  ‘Twixt tyres and heels of onward-leaping steeds,

  And awful death in that hour swallowed him

  When whip and reins had flown from his nerveless hands.

  Then grief thrilled Pammon: hard necessity

  Made him both chariot-lord and charioteer.

  Now to his doom and death-day had he bowed,

  Had not a Trojan through that gory strife

  Leapt, grasped the reins, and saved the prince, when now 630

  His strength failed ‘neath the murderous hands of foes.

  As godlike Acamas charged, the stalwart son

  Of Nestor thrust the spear above his knee,

  And with that wound sore anguish came on him:

  Back from the fight he drew; the deadly strife

  He left unto his comrades: quenched was now

  His battle-lust. Eurypylus’ henchman smote

  Echemmon, Thoas’ friend, amidst the fray

  Beneath the shoulder: nigh his heart the spear 640

  Passed bitter-biting: o’er his limbs brake out

  Mingled with blood cold sweat of agony.

  He turned to flee; Eurypylus’ giant might

  Chased, caught him, shearing his heel-tendons through:

  There, where the blow fell, his reluctant feet

  Stayed, and the spirit left his mortal frame.

  Thoas pricked Paris with quick-thrusting spear

  On the right thigh: backward a space he ran

  For his death-speeding bow, which had been left

  To rearward of the fight. Idomeneus 650

  Upheaved a stone, huge as his hands could swing,

  And dashed it on Eurypylus’ arm: to earth

  Fell his death-dealing spear. Backward he stepped

  To grasp another, since from out his hand

  The first was smitten. So had Atreus’ sons

  A moment’s breathing-space from stress of war.

  But swiftly drew Eurypylus’ henchmen near

  Bearing a stubborn-shafted lance, wherewith

  He brake the strength of many. In stormy might

  Then charged he on the foe: whomso he met 660

  He slew, and spread wide havoc through their ranks.

  Now neither Atreus’ sons might steadfast stand,

  Nor any valiant Danaan beside,

  For ruinous panic suddenly gripped the hearts

  Of all; for on them all Eurypylus rushed

  Flashing death in their faces, chased them, slew,

  Cried to the Trojans and to his chariot-lords:

  “Friends, be of good heart! To these Danaans

  Let us deal slaughter and doom’s darkness now!

  Lo, how like scared sheep back to the ships they flee! 670

  Forget not your death-dealing battle-lore,

  O ye that from your youth are men of war!”

  Then charged they on the Argives as one man;

  And these in utter panic turned and fled

  The bitter battle, those hard after them

  Followed, as white-fanged hounds hold deer in chase

  Up the long forest-glens. Full many in dust

  They dashed down, howsoe’er they longed to escape.

  The slaughter grim and great of that wild fray.

  Eurypylus hath slain Bucolion, 680

  Nesus, and Chromion and Antiphus;

  Twain in Mycenae dwelt, a goodly land;

  In Lacedaemon twain. Men of renown

  Albeit they were, he slew them. Then he smote

  A host unnumbered of the common throng.

  My strength should not suffice to sing their fate,

  How fain soever, though within my breast

  Were iron lungs. Aeneas slew withal

  Antimachus and Pheres, twain which left

  Crete with Idomeneus. Agenor smote 690

  Molus the princely, — with king Sthenelus

  He came from Argos, — hurled from far behind

  A dart new-whetted, as he fled from fight,

  Piercing his right leg, and the eager shaft

  Cut sheer through the broad sinew, shattering

  The bones with anguished pain: and so his doom

  Met him, to die a death of agony.

  Then Paris’ arrows laid proud Phorcys low,

  And Mosynus, brethren both, from Salamis

  Who came in Aias’ ships, and nevermore 700

  Saw the home-land. Cleolaus smote he next,

  Meges’ stout henchman; for the arrow struck

  His left breast: deadly night enwrapped him round,

  And his soul fleeted forth: his fainting heart

  Still in his breast fluttering convulsively

  Made the winged arrow shiver. Yet again

  Did Paris shoot at bold Eetion.

  Through his jaw leapt the sudden-flashing brass:

  He groaned, and with his blood were mingled tears.

  So ever man slew man, till all the space 710

  Was heaped with Argives each on other cast.

  Now had the Trojans burnt with fire the ships,

  Had not night, trailing heavy-folded mist,

  Uprisen. So Eurypylus drew back,

  And Troy’s sons with him, from the ships aloof

  A little space, by Simois’ outfall; there

  Camped they exultant. But amidst the ships

  Flung down upon the sands the Argives wailed

  Heart-anguished for the slain, so many of whom

  Dark fate had overtaken and laid in dust. 720

  BOOK VII. HOW THE SON OF ACHILLES WAS BROUGHT TO THE WAR FROM THE ISLE OF SCYROS.


  When heaven hid his stars, and Dawn awoke

  Outspraying splendour, and night’s darkness fled,

  Then undismayed the Argives’ warrior-sons

  Marched forth without the ships to meet in fight

  Eurypylus, save those that tarried still

  To render to Machaon midst the ships

  Death-dues, with Nireus — Nireus, who in grace

  And goodlihead was like the Deathless Ones,

  Yet was not strong in bodily might: the Gods

  Grant not perfection in all things to men; 10

  But evil still is blended with the good

  By some strange fate: to Nireus’ winsome grace

  Was linked a weakling’s prowess. Yet the Greeks

  Slighted him not, but gave him all death-dues,

  And mourned above his grave with no less grief

  Than for Machaon, whom they honoured aye,

  For his deep wisdom, as the immortal Gods.

  One mound they swiftly heaped above these twain.

  Then in the plain once more did murderous war

  Madden: the multitudinous clash and cry 20

  Rose, as the shields were shattered with huge stones,

  Were pierced with lances. So they toiled in fight;

  But all this while lay Podaleirius

  Fasting in dust and groaning, leaving not

  His brother’s tomb; and oft his heart was moved

  With his own hands to slay himself. And now

  He clutched his sword, and now amidst his herbs

  Sought for a deadly drug; and still his friends

  Essayed to stay his hand and comfort him

  With many pleadings. But he would not cease 30

  From grieving: yea, his hands had spilt his life

  There on his noble brother’s new-made tomb,

  But Nestor heard thereof, and sorrowed sore

  In his affliction, and he came on him

  As now he flung him on that woeful grave,

  And now was casting dust upon his head,

  Beating his breast, and on his brother’s name

  Crying, while thralls and comrades round their lord

  Groaned, and affliction held them one and all.

  Then gently spake he to that stricken one: 40

  “Refrain from bitter moan and deadly grief,

  My son. It is not for a wise man’s honour

  To wail, as doth a woman, o’er the fallen.

  Thou shalt not bring him up to light again

  Whose soul hath fleeted vanishing into air,

  Whose body fire hath ravined up, whose bones

  Earth has received. His end was worthy his life.

  Endure thy sore grief, even as I endured,