Delphi Complete Works of Quintus Smyrnaeus

by Quintus Smyrnaeus

  On pressed Eurymachus, while glowed the heart

  Of Healer Apollo watching from on high.

  As when a man descries a herd of swine

  Draw nigh his ripening corn, before the sheaves 180

  Fall neath the reapers’ hands, and harketh on

  Against them his strong dogs; as down they rush,

  The spoilers see and quake; no more think they

  Of feasting, but they turn in panic flight

  Huddling: fast follow at their heels the hounds

  Biting remorselessly, while long and loud

  Squealing they flee, and joys the harvest’s lord;

  So rejoiced Phoebus, seeing from the war

  Fleeing the mighty Argive host. No more

  Cared they for deeds of men, but cried to the Gods 190

  For swift feet, in whose feet alone was hope

  To escape Eurymachus’ and Aeneas’ spears

  Which lightened ever all along their rear.

  But one Greek, over-trusting in his strength,

  Or by Fate’s malice to destruction drawn,

  Curbed in mid flight from war’s turmoil his steed,

  And strove to wheel him round into the fight

  To face the foe. But fierce Agenor thrust

  Ere he was ware; his two-edged partizan

  Shore though his shoulder; yea, the very bone 200

  Of that gashed arm was cloven by the steel;

  The tendons parted, the veins spirted blood:

  Down by his horse’s neck he slid, and straight

  Fell mid the dead. But still the strong arm hung

  With rigid fingers locked about the reins

  Like a live man’s. Weird marvel was that sight,

  The bloody hand down hanging from the rein,

  Scaring the foes yet more, by Ares’ will.

  Thou hadst said, “It craveth still for horsemanship!”

  So bare the steed that sign of his slain lord. 210

  Aeneas hurled his spear; it found the waist

  Of Anthalus’ son, it pierced the navel through,

  Dragging the inwards with it. Stretched in dust,

  Clutching with agonized hands at steel and bowels,

  Horribly shrieked he, tore with his teeth the earth

  Groaning, till life and pain forsook the man.

  Scared were the Argives, like a startled team

  Of oxen ‘neath the yoke-band straining hard,

  What time the sharp-fanged gadfly stings their flanks

  Athirst for blood, and they in frenzy of pain 220

  Start from the furrow, and sore disquieted

  The hind is for marred work, and for their sake,

  Lest haply the recoiling ploughshare light

  On their leg-sinews, and hamstring his team;

  So were the Danaans scared, so feared for them

  Achilles’ son, and shouted thunder-voiced:

  “Cravens, why flee, like starlings nothing-worth

  Scared by a hawk that swoopeth down on them?

  Come, play the men! Better it is by far

  To die in war than choose unmanly flight!” 230

  Then to his cry they hearkened, and straightway

  Were of good heart. Mighty of mood he leapt

  Upon the Trojans, swinging in his hand

  The lightening spear: swept after him his host

  Of Myrmidons with hearts swelled with the strength

  Resistless of a tempest; so the Greeks

  Won breathing-space. With fury like his sire’s

  One after other slew he of the foe.

  Recoiling back they fell, as waves on-rolled

  By Boreas foaming from the deep to the strand, 240

  Are caught by another blast that whirlwind-like

  Leaps, in a short lull of the north-wind, forth,

  Smites them full-face, and hurls them back from the shore;

  So them that erewhile on the Danaans pressed

  Godlike Achilles’ son now backward hurled

  A short space only brave Aeneas’ spirit

  Let him not flee, but made him bide the fight

  Fearlessly; and Enyo level held

  The battle’s scales. Yet not against Aeneas

  Achilles’ son upraised his father’s spear, 250

  But elsewhither turned his fury: in reverence

  For Aphrodite, Thetis splendour-veiled

  Turned from that man her mighty son’s son’s rage

  And giant strength on other hosts of foes.

  There slew he many a Trojan, while the ranks

  Of Greeks were ravaged by Aeneas’ hand.

  Over the battle-slain the vultures joyed,

  Hungry to rend the hearts and flesh of men.

  But all the Nymphs were wailing, daughters born

  Of Xanthus and fair-flowing Simois. 260

  So toiled they in the fight: the wind’s breath rolled

  Huge dust-clouds up; the illimitable air

  Was one thick haze, as with a sudden mist:

  Earth disappeared, faces were blotted out;

  Yet still they fought on; each man, whomso he met,

  Ruthlessly slew him, though his very friend

  It might be — in that turmoil none could tell

  Who met him, friend or foe: blind wilderment

  Enmeshed the hosts. And now had all been blent

  Confusedly, had perished miserably, 270

  All falling by their fellows’ murderous swords,

  Had not Cronion from Olympus helped

  Their sore strait, and he swept aside the dust

  Of conflict, and he calmed those deadly winds.

  Yet still the hosts fought on; but lighter far

  Their battle-travail was, who now discerned

  Whom in the fray to smite, and whom to spare.

  The Danaans now forced back the Trojan host,

  The Trojans now the Danaan ranks, as swayed

  The dread fight to and fro. From either side 280

  Darts leapt and fell like snowflakes. Far away

  Shepherds from Ida trembling watched the strife,

  And to the Heaven-abiders lifted hands

  Of supplication, praying that all their foes

  Might perish, and that from the woeful war

  Troy might win breathing-space, and see at last

  The day of freedom: the Gods hearkened not.

  Far other issues Fate devised, nor recked

  Of Zeus the Almighty, nor of none beside

  Of the Immortals. Her unpitying soul 290

  Cares naught what doom she spinneth with her thread

  Inevitable, be it for men new-born

  Or cities: all things wax and wane through her.

  So by her hest the battle-travail swelled

  ‘Twixt Trojan chariot-lords and Greeks that closed

  In grapple of fight — they dealt each other death

  Ruthlessly: no man quailed, but stout of heart

  Fought on; for courage thrusts men into war.

  But now when many had perished in the dust,

  Then did the Argive might prevail at last 300

  By stern decree of Pallas; for she came

  Into the heart of battle, hot to help

  The Greeks to lay waste Priam’s glorious town.

  Then Aphrodite, who lamented sore

  For Paris slain, snatched suddenly away

  Renowned Aeneas from the deadly strife,

  And poured thick mist about him. Fate forbade

  That hero any longer to contend

  With Argive foes without the high-built wall.

  Yea, and his mother sorely feared the wrath 310

  Of Pallas passing-wise, whose heart was keen

  To help the Danaans now — yea, feared lest she

  Might slay him even beyond his doom, who spared

  Not Ares’ self, a mightier far than he.

  No more the Trojans now abode the edge

  Of fight, but all
disheartened backward drew.

  For like fierce ravening beasts the Argive men

  Leapt on them, mad with murderous rage of war.

  Choked with their slain the river-channels were,

  Heaped was the field; in red dust thousands fell, 320

  Horses and men; and chariots overturned

  Were strewn there: blood was streaming all around

  Like rain, for deadly Doom raged through the fray.

  Men stabbed with swords, and men impaled on spears

  Lay all confusedly, like scattered beams,

  When on the strand of the low-thundering sea

  Men from great girders of a tall ship’s hull

  Strike out the bolts and clamps, and scatter wide

  Long planks and timbers, till the whole broad beach

  Is paved with beams o’erplashed by darkling surge; 330

  So lay in dust and blood those slaughtered men,

  Rapture and pain of fight forgotten now.

  A remnant from the pitiless strife escaped

  Entered their stronghold, scarce eluding doom.

  Children and wives from their limbs blood-besprent

  Received their arms bedabbled with foul gore;

  And baths for all were heated. Leeches ran

  Through all the town in hot haste to the homes

  Of wounded men to minister to their hurts.

  Here wives and daughters moaned round men come back 340

  From war, there cried on many who came not

  Here, men stung to the soul by bitter pangs

  Groaned upon beds of pain; there, toil-spent men

  Turned them to supper. Whinnied the swift steeds

  And neighed o’er mangers heaped. By tent and ship

  Far off the Greeks did even as they of Troy.

  When o’er the streams of Ocean Dawn drove up

  Her splendour-flashing steeds, and earth’s tribes waked,

  Then the strong Argives’ battle-eager sons

  Marched against Priam’s city lofty-towered, 350

  Save some that mid the tents by wounded men

  Tarried, lest haply raiders on the ships

  Might fall, to help the Trojans, while these fought

  The foe from towers, while rose the flame of war.

  Before the Scaean gate fought Capaneus’ son

  And godlike Diomedes. High above

  Deiphobus battle-staunch and strong Polites

  With many comrades, stoutly held them back

  With arrows and huge stones. Clanged evermore

  The smitten helms and shields that fenced strong men 360

  From bitter doom and unrelenting fate,

  Before the Gate Idaean Achilles’ son

  Set in array the fight: around him toiled

  His host of battle-cunning Myrmidons.

  Helenus and Agenor gallant-souled,

  Down-hailing darts, against them held the wall,

  Aye cheering on their men. No spurring these

  Needed to fight hard for their country’s walls.

  Odysseus and Eurypylus made assault

  Unresting on the gates that fated the plain 370

  And looked to the swift ships. From wall and tower

  With huge stones brave Aeneas made defence.

  In battle-stress by Simons Teucer toiled.

  Each endured hardness at his several post.

  Then round war-wise Odysseus men renowned,

  By that great captain’s battle cunning ruled,

  Locked shields together, raised them o’er their heads

  Ranged side by side, that many were made one.

  Thou hadst said it was a great hall’s solid roof,

  Which no tempestuous wind-blast misty wet 380

  Can pierce, nor rain from heaven in torrents poured.

  So fenced about with shields firm stood the ranks

  Of Argives, one in heart for fight, and one

  In that array close-welded. From above

  The Trojans hailed great stones; as from a rock

  Rolled these to earth. Full many a spear and dart

  And galling javelin in the pierced shields stood;

  Some in the earth stood; many glanced away

  With bent points falling baffled from the shields

  Battered on all sides. But that clangorous din 390

  None feared; none flinched; as pattering drops of rain

  They heard it. Up to the rampart’s foot they marched:

  None hung back; shoulder to shoulder on they came

  Like a long lurid cloud that o’er the sky

  Cronion trails in wild midwinter-tide.

  On that battalion moved, with thunderous tread

  Of tramping feet: a little above the earth

  Rose up the dust; the breeze swept it aside

  Drifting away behind the men. There went

  A sound confused of voices with them, like 400

  The hum of bees that murmur round the hives,

  And multitudinous panting, and the gasp

  Of men hard-breathing. Exceeding glad the sons

  Of Atreus, glorying in them, saw that wall

  Unwavering of doom-denouncing war.

  In one dense mass against the city-gate

  They hurled themselves, with twibills strove to breach

  The long walls, from their hinges to upheave

  The gates, and dash to earth. The pulse of hope

  Beat strong in those proud hearts. But naught availed 410

  Targes nor levers, when Aeneas’ might

  Swung in his hands a stone like a thunderbolt,

  Hurled it with uttermost strength, and dashed to death

  All whom it caught beneath the shields, as when

  A mountain’s precipice-edge breaks off and falls

  On pasturing goats, and all that graze thereby

  Tremble; so were those Danaans dazed with dread.

  Stone after stone he hurled on the reeling ranks,

  As when amid the hills Olympian Zeus

  With thunderbolts and blazing lightnings rends 420

  From their foundations crags that rim a peak,

  And this way, that way, sends them hurtling down;

  Then the flocks tremble, scattering in wild flight;

  So quailed the Achaeans, when Aeneas dashed

  To sudden fragments all that battle-wall

  Moulded of adamant shields, because a God

  Gave more than human strength. No man of them

  Could lift his eyes unto him in that fight,

  Because the arms that lapped his sinewy limbs

  Flashed like the heaven-born lightnings. At his side 430

  Stood, all his form divine in darkness cloaked,

  Ares the terrible, and winged the flight

  Of what bare down to the Argives doom or dread.

  He fought as when Olympian Zeus himself

  From heaven in wrath smote down the insolent bands

  Of giants grim, and shook the boundless earth,

  And sea, and ocean, and the heavens, when reeled

  The knees of Atlas neath the rush of Zeus.

  So crumbled down beneath Aeneas’ bolts

  The Argive squadrons. All along the wall 440

  Wroth with the foeman rushed he: from his hands

  Whatso he lighted on in onslaught-haste

  Hurled he; for many a battle-staying bolt

  Lay on the walls of those staunch Dardan men.

  With such Aeneas stormed in giant might,

  With such drave back the thronging foes. All round

  The Trojans played the men. Sore travail and pain

  Had all folk round the city: many fell,

  Argives and Trojans. Rang the battle-cries:

  Aeneas cheered the war-fain Trojans on 450

  To fight for home, for wives, and their own souls

  With a good heart: war-staunch Achilles’ son

  Shouted: “Flinch not, ye Argives, from the walls,r />
  Till Troy be taken, and sink down in flames!”

  And round these twain an awful measureless roar

  Rang, daylong as they fought: no breathing-space

  Came from the war to them whose spirits burned,

  These, to smite Ilium, those, to guard her safe.

  But from Aeneas valiant-souled afar

  Fought Aias, speeding midst the men of Troy 460

  Winged death; for now his arrow straight through air

  Flew, now his deadly dart, and smote them down

  One after one: yet others cowered away

  Before his peerless prowess, and abode

  The fight no more, but fenceless left the wall

  Then one, of all the Locrians mightiest,

  Fierce-souled Alcimedon, trusting in his prince

  And his own might and valour of his youth,

  All battle-eager on a ladder set

  Swift feet, to pave for friends a death-strewn path 470

  Into the town. Above his head he raised

  The screening shield; up that dread path he went

  Hardening his heart from trembling, in his hand

  Now shook the threatening spear, now upward climbed ú

  Fast high in air he trod the perilous way.

  Now on the Trojans had disaster come,

  But, even as above the parapet

  His head rose, and for the first time and the last

  From her high rampart he looked down on Troy,

  Aeneas, who had marked, albeit afar, 480

  That bold assault, rushed on him, dashed on his head

  So huge a stone that the hero’s mighty strength

  Shattered the ladder. Down from on high he rushed

  As arrow from the string: death followed him

  As whirling round he fell; with air was blent

  His lost life, ere he crashed to the stony ground.

  Strong spear, broad shield, in mid fall flew from his hands,

  And from his head the helm: his corslet came

  Alone with him to earth. The Locrian men

  Groaned, seeing their champion quelled by evil doom; 490

  For all his hair and all the stones around

  Were brain-bespattered: all his bones were crushed,

  And his once active limbs besprent with gore.

  Then godlike Poeas’ war-triumphant son

  Marked where Aeneas stormed along the wall

  In lion-like strength, and straightway shot a shaft

  Aimed at that glorious hero, neither missed

  The man: yet not through his unyielding targe

  To the fair flesh it won, being turned aside