Delphi Complete Works of Quintus Smyrnaeus

by Quintus Smyrnaeus

  Had power to lay the City of Priam waste

  While that immortal shape stood warder there.

  No man had carven that celestial form,

  But Cronos’ Son himself had cast it down

  From heaven to Priam’s gold-abounding burg. 390

  Of these things with her handmaids did the Queen

  Of Heaven hold converse, and of many such,

  But Paris, while they talked, gave up the ghost

  On Ida: never Helen saw him more.

  Loud wailed the Nymphs around him; for they still

  Remembered how their nursling wont to lisp

  His childish prattle, compassed with their smiles.

  And with them mourned the neatherds light of foot,

  Sorrowful-hearted; moaned the mountain-glens.

  Then unto travail-burdened Priam’s queen 400

  A herdman told the dread doom of her son.

  Wildly her trembling heart leapt when she heard;

  With failing limbs she sank to earth and wailed:

  “Dead! thou dead, O dear child! Grief heaped on grief

  Hast thou bequeathed me, grief eternal! Best

  Of all my sons, save Hector alone, wast thou!

  While beats my heart, my grief shall weep for thee.

  The hand of Heaven is in our sufferings:

  Some Fate devised our ruin — oh that I

  Had lived not to endure it, but had died 410

  In days of wealthy peace! But now I see

  Woes upon woes, and ever look to see

  Worse things — my children slain, my city sacked

  And burned with fire by stony-hearted foes,

  Daughters, sons’ wives, all Trojan women, haled

  Into captivity with our little ones!”

  So wailed she; but the King heard naught thereof,

  But weeping ever sat by Hector’s grave,

  For most of all his sons he honoured him,

  His mightiest, the defender of his land. 420

  Nothing of Paris knew that pierced heart;

  But long and loud lamented Helen; yet

  Those wails were but for Trojan ears; her soul

  With other thoughts was busy, as she cried:

  “Husband, to me, to Troy, and to thyself

  A bitter blow is this thy woeful death!

  In misery hast thou left me, and I look

  To see calamities more deadly yet.

  Oh that the Spirits of the Storm had snatched

  Me from the earth when first I fared with thee 430

  Drawn by a baleful Fate! It might not be;

  The Gods have meted ruin to thee and me.

  With shuddering horror all men look on me,

  All hate me! Place of refuge is there none

  For me; for if to the Danaan host I fly,

  With torments will they greet me. If I stay,

  Troy’s sons and daughters here will compass me

  And rend me. Earth shall cover not my corpse,

  But dogs and fowl of ravin shall devour.

  Oh had Fate slain me ere I saw these woes!” 440

  So cried she: but for him far less she mourned

  Than for herself, remembering her own sin.

  Yea, and Troy’s daughters but in semblance wailed

  For him: of other woes their hearts were full.

  Some thought on parents, some on husbands slain,

  These on their sons, on honoured kinsmen those.

  One only heart was pierced with grief unfeigned,

  Oenone. Not with them of Troy she wailed,

  But far away within that desolate home

  Moaning she lay on her lost husband’s bed. 450

  As when the copses on high mountains stand

  White-veiled with frozen snow, which o’er the glens

  The west-wind blasts have strown, but now the sun

  And east-wind melt it fast, and the long heights

  With water-courses stream, and down the glades

  Slide, as they thaw, the heavy sheets, to swell

  The rushing waters of an ice-cold spring,

  So melted she in tears of anguished pain,

  And for her own, her husband, agonised,

  And cried to her heart with miserable moans: 460

  “Woe for my wickedness! O hateful life!

  I loved mine hapless husband — dreamed with him

  To pace to eld’s bright threshold hand in hand,

  And heart in heart! The gods ordained not so.

  Oh had the black Fates snatched me from the earth

  Ere I from Paris turned away in hate!

  My living love hath left me! — yet will I

  Dare to die with him, for I loathe the light.”

  So cried she, weeping, weeping piteously,

  Remembering him whom death had swallowed up, 470

  Wasting, as melteth wax before the flame

  Yet secretly, being fearful lest her sire

  Should mark it, or her handmaids till the night

  Rose from broad Ocean, flooding all the earth

  With darkness bringing men release from toil.

  Then, while her father and her maidens slept,

  She slid the bolts back of the outer doors,

  And rushed forth like a storm-blast. Fast she ran,

  As when a heifer ‘mid the mountains speeds,

  Her heart with passion stung, to meet her mate, 480

  And madly races on with flying feet,

  And fears not, in her frenzy of desire,

  The herdman, as her wild rush bears her on,

  So she but find her mate amid the woods;

  So down the long tracks flew Oenone’s feet;

  Seeking the awful pyre, to leap thereon.

  No weariness she knew: as upon wings

  Her feet flew faster ever, onward spurred

  By fell Fate, and the Cyprian Queen. She feared

  No shaggy beast that met her in the dark 490

  Who erst had feared them sorely — rugged rock

  And precipice of tangled mountain-slope,

  She trod them all unstumbling; torrent-beds

  She leapt. The white Moon-goddess from on high

  Looked on her, and remembered her own love,

  Princely Endymion, and she pitied her

  In that wild race, and, shining overhead

  In her full brightness, made the long tracks plain.

  Through mountain-gorges so she won to where

  Wailed other Nymphs round Alexander’s corpse. 500

  Roared up about him a great wall of fire;

  For from the mountains far and near had come

  Shepherds, and heaped the death-bale broad and high

  For 1ove’s and sorrow’s latest service done

  To one of old their comrade and their king.

  Sore weeping stood they round. She raised no wail,

  The broken-hearted, when she saw him there,

  But, in her mantle muffling up her face,

  Leapt on the pyre: loud wailed that multitude.

  There burned she, clasping Paris. All the Nymphs 510

  Marvelled, beholding her beside her lord

  Flung down, and heart to heart spake whispering:

  “Verily evil-hearted Paris was,

  Who left a leal true wife, and took for bride

  A wanton, to himself and Troy a curse.

  Ah fool, who recked not of the broken heart

  Of a most virtuous wife, who more than life

  Loved him who turned from her and loved her not!”

  So in their hearts the Nymphs spake: but they twain

  Burned on the pyre, never to hail again 520

  The dayspring. Wondering herdmen stood around,

  As once the thronging Argives marvelling saw

  Evadne clasping mid the fire her lord

  Capaneus, slain by Zeus’ dread thunderbolt.

  But when the blast of the devouring fire

  Had made twai
n one, Oenone and Paris, now

  One little heap of ashes, then with wine

  Quenched they the embers, and they laid their bones

  In a wide golden vase, and round them piled

  The earth-mound; and they set two pillars there 530

  That each from other ever turn away;

  For the old jealousy in the marble lives.

  BOOK XI. HOW THE SONS OF TROY FOR THE LAST TIME. FOUGHT FROM HER WALLS AND HER TOWERS.

  Troy’s daughters mourned within her walls; might none

  Go forth to Paris’ tomb, for far away

  From high-built Troy it lay. But the young men

  Without the city toiled unceasingly

  In fight wherein from slaughter rest was none,

  Though dead was Paris; for the Achaeans pressed

  Hard on the Trojans even unto Troy.

  Yet these charged forth — they could not choose but so,

  For Strife and deadly Enyo in their midst

  Stalked, like the fell Erinyes to behold, 10

  Breathing destruction from their lips like flame.

  Beside them raged the ruthless-hearted Fates

  Fiercely: here Panic-fear and Ares there

  Stirred up the hosts: hard after followed

  Dread With slaughter’s gore besprent, that in one host

  Might men see, and be strong, in the other fear;

  And all around were javelins, spears, and darts

  Murder-athirst from this side, that side, showered.

  Aye, as they hurled together, armour clashed,

  As foe with foe grappled in murderous fight. 20

  There Neoptolemus slew Laodamas,

  Whom Lycia nurtured by fair Xanthus’ stream,

  The stream revealed to men by Leto, bride

  Of Thunderer Zeus, when Lycia’s stony plain

  Was by her hands uptorn mid agonies

  Of travail-throes wherein she brought to light

  Mid bitter pangs those babes of birth divine.

  Nirus upon him laid he dead; the spear

  Crashed through his jaw, and clear through mouth and tongue

  Passed: on the lance’s irresistible point 30

  Shrieking was he impaled: flooded with gore

  His mouth was as he cried. The cruel shaft,

  Sped on by that strong hand, dashed him to earth

  In throes of death. Evenor next he smote

  Above the flank, and onward drave the spear

  Into his liver: swiftly anguished death

  Came upon him. Iphition next he slew:

  He quelled Hippomedon, Hippasus’ bold son,

  Whom Ocyone the Nymph had borne beside

  Sangarius’ river-flow. Ne’er welcomed she 40

  Her son’s returning face, but ruthless Fate

  With anguish thrilled her of her child bereaved.

  Bremon Aeneas slew, and Andromachus,

  Of Cnossus this, of hallowed Lyctus that:

  On one spot both from their swift chariots fell;

  This gasped for breath, his throat by the long spear

  Transfixed; that other, by a massy stone,

  Sped from a strong hand, on the temple struck,

  Breathed out his life, and black doom shrouded him.

  The startled steeds, bereft of charioteers, 50

  Fleeing, mid all those corpses were confused,

  And princely Aeneas’ henchmen seized on them

  With hearts exulting in the goodly spoil.

  There Philoctetes with his deadly shaft

  Smote Peirasus in act to flee the war:

  The tendons twain behind the knee it snapped,

  And palsied all his speed. A Danaan marked,

  And leapt on that maimed man with sweep of sword

  Shearing his neck through. On the breast of earth

  The headless body fell: the head far flung 60

  Went rolling with lips parted as to shriek;

  And swiftly fleeted thence the homeless soul.

  Polydamas struck down Eurymachus

  And Cleon with his spear. From Syme came

  With Nireus’ following these: cunning were both

  In craft of fisher-folk to east the hook

  Baited with guile, to drop into the sea

  The net, from the boat’s prow with deftest hands

  Swiftly and straight to plunge the three-forked spear.

  But not from bane their sea-craft saved them now. 70

  Eurypylus battle-staunch laid Hellus low,

  Whom Cleito bare beside Gygaea’s mere,

  Cleito the fair-cheeked. Face-down in the dust

  Outstretched he lay: shorn by the cruel sword

  From his strong shoulder fell the arm that held

  His long spear. Still its muscles twitched, as though

  Fain to uplift the lance for fight in vain;

  For the man’s will no longer stirred therein,

  But aimlessly it quivered, even as leaps

  The severed tail of a snake malignant-eyed, 80

  Which cannot chase the man who dealt the wound;

  So the right hand of that strong-hearted man

  With impotent grip still clutched the spear for fight.

  Aenus and Polydorus Odysseus slew,

  Ceteians both; this perished by his spear,

  That by his sword death-dealing. Sthenelus

  Smote godlike Abas with a javelin-cast:

  On through his throat and shuddering nape it rushed:

  Stopped were his heart-beats, all his limbs collapsed.

  Tydeides slew Laodocus; Melius fell 90

  By Agamemnon’s hand; Deiphobus

  Smote Alcimus and Dryas: Hippasus,

  How war-renowned soe’er, Agenor slew

  Far from Peneius’ river. Crushed by fate,

  Love’s nursing-debt to parents ne’er he paid.

  Lamus and stalwart Lyncus Thoas smote,

  And Meriones slew Lycon; Menelaus

  Laid low Archelochus. Upon his home

  Looked down Corycia’s ridge, and that great rock

  Of the wise Fire-god, marvellous in men’s eyes; 100

  For thereon, nightlong, daylong, unto him

  Fire blazes, tireless and unquenchable.

  Laden with fruit around it palm-trees grow,

  While mid the stones fire plays about their roots.

  Gods’ work is this, a wonder to all time.

  By Teucer princely Hippomedon’s son was slain,

  Menoetes: as the archer drew on him,

  Rushed he to smite him; but already hand

  And eye, and bow-craft keen were aiming straight

  On the arching horn the shaft. Swiftly released 110

  It leapt on the hapless man, while sang the string.

  Stricken full front he heaved one choking gasp,

  Because the fates on the arrow riding flew

  Right to his heart, the throne of thought and strength

  For men, whence short the path is unto death.

  Far from his brawny hand Euryalus hurled

  A massy stone, and shook the ranks of Troy.

  As when in anger against long-screaming cranes

  A watcher of the field leaps from the ground,

  In swift hand whirling round his head the sling, 120

  And speeds the stone against them, scattering

  Before its hum their ranks far down the wind

  Outspread, and they in huddled panic dart

  With wild cries this way and that, who theretofore

  Swept on in ordered lines; so shrank the foe

  To right and left from that dread bolt of doom

  Hurled of Euryalus. Not in vain it flew

  Fate-winged; it shattered Meles’ helm and head

  Down to the eyes: so met him ghastly death.

  Still man slew man, while earth groaned all around, 130

  As when a mighty wind scourges the land,

  And this way, that way, under its shriek
ing blasts

  Through the wide woodland bow from the roots and fall

  Great trees, while all the earth is thundering round;

  So fell they in the dust, so clanged their arms,

  So crashed the earth around. Still hot were they

  For fell fight, still dealt bane unto their foes.

  Nigh to Aeneas then Apollo came,

  And to Eurymachus, brave Antenor’s son;

  For these against the mighty Achaeans fought 140

  Shoulder to shoulder, as two strong oxen, matched

  In age, yoked to a wain; nor ever ceased

  From battling. Suddenly spake the God to these

  In Polymestor’s shape, the seer his mother

  By Xanthus bare to the Far-darter’s priest:

  “Eurymachus, Aeneas, seed of Gods,

  ‘Twere shame if ye should flinch from Argives! Nay,

  Not Ares’ self should joy to encounter you,

  An ye would face him in the fray; for Fate

  Hath spun long destiny-threads for thee and thee.” 150

  He spake, and vanished, mingling with the winds.

  But their hearts felt the God’s power: suddenly

  Flooded with boundless courage were their frames,

  Maddened their spirits: on the foe they leapt

  Like furious wasps that in a storm of rage

  Swoop upon bees, beholding them draw nigh

  In latter-summer to the mellowing grapes,

  Or from their hives forth-streaming thitherward;

  So fiercely leapt these sons of Troy to meet

  War-hardened Greeks. The black Fates joyed to see 160

  Their conflict, Ares laughed, Enyo yelled

  Horribly. Loud their glancing armour clanged:

  They stabbed, they hewed down hosts of foes untold

  With irresistible hands. The reeling ranks

  Fell, as the swath falls in the harvest heat,

  When the swift-handed reapers, ranged adown

  The field’s long furrows, ply the sickle fast;

  So fell before their hands ranks numberless:

  With corpses earth was heaped, with torrent blood

  Was streaming: Strife incarnate o’er the slain 170

  Gloated. They paused not from the awful toil,

  But aye pressed on, like lions chasing sheep.

  Then turned the Greeks to craven flight; all feet

  Unmaimed as yet fled from the murderous war.

  Aye followed on Anchises’ warrior son,

  Smiting foes’ backs with his avenging spear: