Delphi Complete Works of Quintus Smyrnaeus

by Quintus Smyrnaeus

  So kissed he Neoptolemus’ head and breast,

  Clasping him round, and cried in rapture of joy:

  “Hail, goodly son of that Achilles whom

  I nursed a little one in mine own arms

  With a glad heart. By Heaven’s high providence

  Like a strong sapling waxed he in stature fast,

  And daily I rejoiced to see his form

  And prowess, my life’s blessing, honouring him

  As though he were the son of mine old age; 720

  For like a father did he honour me.

  I was indeed his father, he my son

  In spirit: thou hadst deemed us of one blood

  Who were in heart one: but of nobler mould

  Was he by far, in form and strength a God.

  Thou art wholly like him — yea, I seem to see

  Alive amid the Argives him for whom

  Sharp anguish shrouds me ever. I waste away

  In sorrowful age — oh that the grave had closed

  On me while yet he lived! How blest to be 730

  By loving hands of kinsmen laid to rest!

  Ah child, my sorrowing heart will nevermore

  Forget him! Chide me not for this my grief.

  But now, help thou the Myrmidons and Greeks

  In their sore strait: wreak on the foe thy wrath

  For thy brave sire. It shall be thy renown

  To slay this war-insatiate Telephus’ son;

  For mightier art thou, and shalt prove, than he,

  As was thy father than his wretched sire.”

  Made answer golden-haired Achilles’ son: 740

  “Ancient, our battle-prowess mighty Fate

  And the o’ermastering War-god shall decide.”

  But, as he spake, he had fain on that same day

  Forth of the gates have rushed in his sire’s arms;

  But night, which bringeth men release from toil,

  Rose from the ocean veiled in sable pall.

  With honour as of mighty Achilles’ self

  Him mid the ships the glad Greeks hailed, who had won

  Courage from that his eager rush to war.

  With princely presents did they honour him, 750

  With priceless gifts, whereby is wealth increased;

  For some gave gold and silver, handmaids some,

  Brass without weight gave these, and iron those;

  Others in deep jars brought the ruddy wine:

  Yea, fleetfoot steeds they gave, and battle-gear,

  And raiment woven fair by women’s hands.

  Glowed Neoptolemus’ heart for joy of these.

  A feast they made for him amidst the tents,

  And there extolled Achilles’ godlike son

  With praise as of the immortal Heavenly Ones; 760

  And joyful-voiced Agamemnon spake to him:

  “Thou verily art the brave-souled Aeacid’s son,

  His very image thou in stalwart might,

  In beauty, stature, courage, and in soul.

  Mine heart burns in me seeing thee. I trust

  Thine hands and spear shall smite yon hosts of foes,

  Shall smite the city of Priam world-renowned —

  So like thy sire thou art! Methinks I see

  Himself beside the ships, as when his shout

  Of wrath for dead Patroclus shook the ranks 770

  Of Troy. But he is with the Immortal Ones,

  Yet, bending from that heaven, sends thee to-day

  To save the Argives on destruction’s brink.”

  Answered Achilles’ battle-eager son:

  “Would I might meet him living yet, O King,

  That so himself might see the son of his love

  Not shaming his great father’s name. I trust

  So shall it be, if the Gods grant me life.”

  So spake he in wisdom and in modesty;

  And all there marvelled at the godlike man. 780

  But when with meat and wine their hearts were filled,

  Then rose Achilles’ battle-eager son,

  And from the feast passed forth unto the tent

  That was his sire’s. Much armour of heroes slain

  Lay there; and here and there were captive maids

  Arraying that tent widowed of its lord,

  As though its king lived. When that son beheld

  Those Trojan arms and handmaid-thralls, he groaned,

  By passionate longing for his father seized.

  As when through dense oak-groves and tangled glens 790

  Comes to the shadowed cave a lion’s whelp

  Whose grim sire by the hunters hath been slain,

  And looketh all around that empty den,

  And seeth heaps of bones of steeds and kine

  Slain theretofore, and grieveth for his sire;

  Even so the heart of brave Peleides’ son

  With grief was numbed. The handmaids marvelling gazed;

  And fair Briseis’ self, when she beheld

  Achilles’ son, was now right glad at heart,

  And sorrowed now with memories of the dead. 800

  Her soul was wildered all, as though indeed

  There stood the aweless Aeacid living yet.

  Meanwhile exultant Trojans camped aloof

  Extolled Eurypylus the fierce and strong,

  As erst they had praised Hector, when he smote

  Their foes, defending Troy and all her wealth.

  But when sweet sleep stole over mortal men,

  Then sons of Troy and battle-biding Greeks

  All slumber-heavy slept unsentinelled.

  BOOK VIII. HOW HERCULES’ GRANDSON PERISHED IN FIGHT WITH THE SON OF ACHILLES.

  When from the far sea-line, where is the cave

  Of Dawn, rose up the sun, and scattered light

  Over the earth, then did the eager sons

  Of Troy and of Achaea arm themselves

  Athirst for battle: these Achilles’ son

  Cheered on to face the Trojans awelessly;

  And those the giant strength of Telephus’ seed

  Kindled. He trusted to dash down the wall

  To earth, and utterly destroy the ships

  With ravening fire, and slay the Argive host. 10

  Ah, but his hope was as the morning breeze

  Delusive: hard beside him stood the Fates

  Laughing to scorn his vain imaginings.

  Then to the Myrmidons spake Achilles’ son,

  The aweless, to the fight enkindling them:

  “Hear me, mine henchmen: take ye to your hearts

  The spirit of war, that we may heal the wounds

  Of Argos, and be ruin to her foes.

  Let no man fear, for mighty prowess is

  The child of courage; but fear slayeth strength 20

  And spirit. Gird yourselves with strength for war;

  Give foes no breathing-space, that they may say

  That mid our ranks Achilles liveth yet.”

  Then clad he with his father’s flashing arms

  His shoulders. Then exulted Thetis’ heart

  When from the sea she saw the mighty strength

  Of her son’s son. Then forth with eagle-speed

  Afront of that high wall he rushed, his ear

  Drawn by the immortal horses of his sire.

  As from the ocean-verge upsprings the sun 30

  In glory, flashing fire far over earth —

  Fire, when beside his radiant chariot-team

  Races the red star Sirius, scatterer

  Of woefullest diseases over men;

  So flashed upon the eyes of Ilium’s host

  That battle-eager hero, Achilles’ son.

  Onward they whirled him, those immortal steeds,

  The which, when now he longed to chase the foe

  Back from the ships, Automedon, who wont

  To rein them for his father, brought to him. 40

  With joy that pair bore battleward their lord,

 
So like to Aeacus’ son, their deathless hearts

  Held him no worser than Achilles’ self.

  Laughing for glee the Argives gathered round

  The might resistless of Neoptolemus,

  Eager for fight as wasps [whose woodland bower

  The axe] hath shaken, who dart swarming forth

  Furious to sting the woodman: round their nest

  Long eddying, they torment all passers by;

  So streamed they forth from galley and from wall 50

  Burning for fight, and that wide space was thronged,

  And all the plain far blazed with armour-sheen,

  As shone from heaven’s vault the sun thereon.

  As flees the cloud-rack through the welkin wide

  Scourged onward by the North-wind’s Titan blasts,

  When winter-tide and snow are hard at hand,

  And darkness overpalls the firmament;

  So with their thronging squadrons was the earth

  Covered before the ships. To heaven uprolled,

  Dust hung on hovering wings’ men’s armour clashed; 60

  Rattled a thousand chariots; horses neighed

  On-rushing to the fray. Each warrior’s prowess

  Kindled him with its trumpet-call to war.

  As leap the long sea-rollers, onward hurled

  By two winds terribly o’er th’ broad sea-flood

  Roaring from viewless bournes, with whirlwind blasts

  Crashing together, when a ruining storm

  Maddens along the wide gulfs of the deep,

  And moans the Sea-queen with her anguished waves

  Which sweep from every hand, uptowering 70

  Like precipiced mountains, while the bitter squall,

  Ceaselessly veering, shrieks across the sea;

  So clashed in strife those hosts from either hand

  With mad rage. Strife incarnate spurred them on,

  And their own prowess. Crashed together these

  Like thunderclouds outlightening, thrilling the air.

  With shattering trumpet-challenge, when the blasts

  Are locked in frenzied wrestle, with mad breath

  Rending the clouds, when Zeus is wroth with men

  Who travail with iniquity, and flout 80

  His law. So grappled they, as spear with spear

  Clashed, shield with shield, and man on man was hurled.

  And first Achilles’ war-impetuous son

  Struck down stout Melaneus and Alcidamas,

  Sons of the war-lord Alexinomus,

  Who dwelt in Caunus mountain-cradled, nigh

  The clear lake shining at Tarbelus’ feet

  ‘Neath snow-capt Imbrus. Menes, fleetfoot son

  Of King Cassandrus, slew he, born to him

  By fair Creusa, where the lovely streams 90

  Of Lindus meet the sea, beside the marches

  Of battle-biding Carians, and the heights

  Of Lycia the renowned. He slew withal

  Morys the spearman, who from Phrygia came;

  Polybus and Hippomedon by his side

  He laid, this stabbed to the heart, that pierced between

  Shoulder and neck: man after man he slew.

  Earth groaned ‘neath Trojan corpses; rank on rank

  Crumbled before him, even as parched brakes

  Sink down before the blast of ravening fire 100

  When the north wind of latter summer blows;

  So ruining squadrons fell before his charge.

  Meanwhile Aeneas slew Aristolochus,

  Crashing a great stone down on his head: it brake

  Helmet and skull together, and fled his life.

  Fleetfoot Eumaeus Diomede slew; he dwelt

  In craggy Dardanus, where the bride-bed is

  Whereon Anchises clasped the Queen of Love.

  Agamemnon smote down Stratus: unto Thrace

  Returned he not from war, but died far off 110

  From his dear fatherland. And Meriones

  Struck Chlemus down, Peisenor’s son, the friend

  Of god-like Glaucus, and his comrade leal,

  Who by Limurus’ outfall dwelt: the folk

  Honoured him as their king, when reigned no more

  Glaucus, in battle slain, — all who abode

  Around Phoenice’s towers, and by the crest

  Of Massicytus, and Chimaera’s glen.

  So man slew man in fight; but more than all

  Eurypylus hurled doom on many a foe. 120

  First slew he battle-bider Eurytus,

  Menoetius of the glancing taslet next,

  Elephenor’s godlike comrades. Fell with these

  Harpalus, wise Odysseus’ warrior-friend;

  But in the fight afar that hero toiled,

  And might not aid his fallen henchman: yet

  Fierce Antiphus for that slain man was wroth,

  And hurled his spear against Eurypylus,

  Yet touched him not; the strong shaft glanced aside,

  And pierced Meilanion battle-staunch, the son 130

  Of Cleite lovely-faced, Erylaus’ bride,

  Who bare him where Caicus meets the sea.

  Wroth for his comrade slain, Eurypylus

  Rushed upon Antiphus, but terror-winged

  He plunged amid his comrades; so the spear

  Of the avenger slew him not, whose doom

  Was one day wretchedly to be devoured

  By the manslaying Cyclops: so it pleased

  Stern Fate, I know not why. Elsewhither sped

  Eurypylus; and aye as he rushed on 140

  Fell ‘neath his spear a multitude untold.

  As tall trees, smitten by the strength of steel

  In mountain-forest, fill the dark ravines,

  Heaped on the earth confusedly, so fell

  The Achaeans ‘neath Eurypylus’ flying spears —

  Till heart-uplifted met him face to face

  Achilles’ son. The long spears in their hands

  They twain swung up, each hot to smite his foe.

  But first Eurypylus cried the challenge-cry;

  “Who art thou? Whence hast come to brave me here? 150

  To Hades merciless Fate is bearing thee;

  For in grim fight hath none escaped mine hands;

  But whoso, eager for the fray, have come

  Hither, on all have I hurled anguished death.

  By Xanthus’ streams have dogs devoured their flesh

  And gnawed their bones. Answer me, who art thou?

  Whose be the steeds that bear thee exultant on?”

  Answered Achilles’ battle-eager son:

  “Wherefore, when I am hurrying to the fray,

  Dost thou, a foe, put question thus to me, 160

  As might a friend, touching my lineage,

  Which many know? Achilles’ son am I,

  Son of the man whose long spear smote thy sire,

  And made him flee — yea, and the ruthless fates

  Of death had seized him, but my father’s self

  Healed him upon the brink of woeful death.

  The steeds which bear me were my godlike sire’s;

  These the West-wind begat, the Harpy bare:

  Over the barren sea their feet can race

  Skimming its crests: in speed they match the winds. 170

  Since then thou know’st the lineage of my steeds

  And mine, now put thou to the test the might

  Of my strong spear, born on steep Pelion’s crest,

  Who hath left his father-stock and forest there.”

  He spake; and from the chariot sprang to earth

  That glorious man: he swung the long spear up.

  But in his brawny hand his foe hath seized

  A monstrous stone: full at the golden shield

  Of Neoptolemus he sped its flight;

  But, no whir staggered by its whirlwind rush, 180

  He like a giant mountain-foreland stood

  Which all the ban
ded fury of river-floods

  Can stir not, rooted in the eternal hills;

  So stood unshaken still Achilles’ son.

  Yet not for this Eurypylus’ dauntless might

  Shrank from Achilles’ son invincible,

  On-spurred by his own hardihood and by Fate.

  Their hearts like caldrons seethed o’er fires of wrath,

  Their glancing armour flashed about their limbs.

  Like terrible lions each on other rushed, 190

  Which fight amid the mountains famine-stung,

  Writhing and leaping in the strain of strife

  For a slain ox or stag, while all the glens

  Ring with their conflict; so they grappled, so

  Clashed they in pitiless strife. On either hand

  Long lines of warriors Greek and Trojan toiled

  In combat: round them roared up flames of war.

  Like mighty rushing winds they hurled together

  With eager spears for blood of life athirst.

  Hard by them stood Enyo, spurred them on 200

  Ceaselessly: never paused they from the strife.

  Now hewed they each the other’s shield, and now

  Thrust at the greaves, now at the crested helms.

  Reckless of wounds, in that grim toil pressed on

  Those aweless heroes: Strife incarnate watched

  And gloated o’er them. Ran the sweat in streams

  From either: straining hard they stood their ground,

  For both were of the seed of Blessed Ones.

  From Heaven, with hearts at variance, Gods looked down;

  For some gave glory to Achilles’ son, 210

  Some to Eurypylus the godlike. Still

  They fought on, giving ground no more than rock.

  Of granite mountains. Rang from side to side

  Spear-smitten shields. At last the Pelian lance,

  Sped onward by a mighty thrust, hath passed

  Clear through Eurypylus’ throat. Forth poured the blood

  Torrent-like; through the portal of the wound

  The soul from the body flew: darkness of death

  Dropped o’er his eyes. To earth in clanging arms

  He fell, like stately pine or silver fir 220

  Uprooted by the fury of Boreas;

  Such space of earth Eurypylus’ giant frame

  Covered in falling: rang again the floor

  And plain of Troyland. Grey death-pallor swept

  Over the corpse, and all the flush of life

  Faded away. With a triumphant laugh

  Shouted the mighty hero over him:

  “Eurypylus, thou saidst thou wouldst destroy

  The Danaan ships and men, wouldst slay us all