Even in departing, galled albeit by darts:
So from the great Horse fled she, anguish-racked
For Troy, for all the ruin she foreknew. 630
BOOK XIII. HOW TROY IN THE NIGHT WAS TAKEN AND SACKED WITH FIRE AND SLAUGHTER.
So feasted they through Troy, and in their midst
Loud pealed the flutes and pipes: on every hand
Were song and dance, laughter and cries confused
Of banqueters beside the meats and wine.
They, lifting in their hands the beakers brimmed,
Recklessly drank, till heavy of brain they grew,
Till rolled their fluctuant eyes. Now and again
Some mouth would babble the drunkard’s broken words.
The household gear, the very roof and walls
Seemed as they rocked: all things they looked on seemed 10
Whirled in wild dance. About their eyes a veil
Of mist dropped, for the drunkard’s sight is dimmed,
And the wit dulled, when rise the fumes to the brain:
And thus a heavy-headed feaster cried:
“For naught the Danaans mustered that great host
Hither! Fools, they have wrought not their intent,
But with hopes unaccomplished from our town
Like silly boys or women have they fled.”
So cried a Trojan wit-befogged with wine,
Fool, nor discerned destruction at the doors. 20
When sleep had locked his fetters everywhere
Through Troy on folk fulfilled of wine and meat,
Then Sinon lifted high a blazing torch
To show the Argive men the splendour of fire.
But fearfully the while his heart beat, lest
The men of Troy might see it, and the plot
Be suddenly revealed. But on their beds
Sleeping their last sleep lay they, heavy with wine.
The host saw, and from Tenedos set sail.
Then nigh the Horse drew Sinon: softly he called, 30
Full softly, that no man of Troy might hear,
But only Achaea’s chiefs, far from whose eyes
Sleep hovered, so athirst were they for fight.
They heard, and to Odysseus all inclined
Their ears: he bade them urgently go forth
Softly and fearlessly; and they obeyed
That battle-summons, pressing in hot haste
To leap to earth: but in his subtlety
He stayed them from all thrusting eagerly forth.
But first himself with swift unfaltering hands, 40
Helped of Epeius, here and there unbarred
The ribs of the Horse of beams: above the planks
A little he raised his head, and gazed around
On all sides, if he haply might descry
One Trojan waking yet. As when a wolf,
With hunger stung to the heart, comes from the hills,
And ravenous for flesh draws nigh the flock
Penned in the wide fold, slinking past the men
And dogs that watch, all keen to ward the sheep,
Then o’er the fold-wall leaps with soundless feet; 50
So stole Odysseus down from the Horse: with him
Followed the war-fain lords of Hellas’ League,
Orderly stepping down the ladders, which
Epeius framed for paths of mighty men,
For entering and for passing forth the Horse,
Who down them now on this side, that side, streamed
As fearless wasps startled by stroke of axe
In angry mood pour all together forth
From the tree-bole, at sound of woodman’s blow;
So battle-kindled forth the Horse they poured 60
Into the midst of that strong city of Troy
With hearts that leapt expectant. [With swift hands
Snatched they the brands from dying hearths, and fired
Temple and palace. Onward then to the gates
Sped they,] and swiftly slew the slumbering guards,
[Then held the gate-towers till their friends should come.]
Fast rowed the host the while; on swept the ships
Over the great flood: Thetis made their paths
Straight, and behind them sent a driving wind
Speeding them, and the hearts Achaean glowed. 70
Swiftly to Hellespont’s shore they came, and there
Beached they the keels again, and deftly dealt
With whatso tackling appertains to ships.
Then leapt they aland, and hasted on to Troy
Silent as sheep that hurry to the fold
From woodland pasture on an autumn eve;
So without sound of voices marched they on
Unto the Trojans’ fortress, eager all
To help those mighty chiefs with foes begirt.
Now these — as famished wolves fierce-glaring round 80
Fall on a fold mid the long forest-hills,
While sleeps the toil-worn watchman, and they rend
The sheep on every hand within the wall
In darkness, and all round [are heaped the slain;
So these within the city smote and slew,
As swarmed the awakened foe around them; yet,
Fast as they slew, aye faster closed on them
Those thousands, mad to thrust them from the gates.]
Slipping in blood and stumbling o’er the dead
[Their line reeled,] and destruction loomed o’er them, 90
Though Danaan thousands near and nearer drew.
But when the whole host reached the walls of Troy,
Into the city of Priam, breathing rage
Of fight, with reckless battle-lust they poured;
And all that fortress found they full of war
And slaughter, palaces, temples, horribly
Blazing on all sides; glowed their hearts with joy.
In deadly mood then charged they on the foe.
Ares and fell Enyo maddened there:
Blood ran in torrents, drenched was all the earth, 100
As Trojans and their alien helpers died.
Here were men lying quelled by bitter death
All up and down the city in their blood;
Others on them were falling, gasping forth
Their life’s strength; others, clutching in their hands
Their bowels that looked through hideous gashes forth,
Wandered in wretched plight around their homes:
Others, whose feet, while yet asleep they lay,
Had been hewn off, with groans unutterable
Crawled mid the corpses. Some, who had rushed to fight, 110
Lay now in dust, with hands and heads hewn off.
Some were there, through whose backs, even as they fled,
The spear had passed, clear through to the breast, and some
Whose waists the lance had pierced, impaling them
Where sharpest stings the anguish-laden steel.
And all about the city dolorous howls
Of dogs uprose, and miserable moans
Of strong men stricken to death; and every home
With awful cries was echoing. Rang the shrieks
Of women, like to screams of cranes, which see 120
An eagle stooping on them from the sky,
Which have no courage to resist, but scream
Long terror-shrieks in dread of Zeus’s bird;
So here, so there the Trojan women wailed,
Some starting from their sleep, some to the ground
Leaping: they thought not in that agony
Of robe and zone; in naught but tunics clad
Distraught they wandered: others found nor veil
Nor cloak to cast about them, but, as came
Onward their foes, they stood with beating hearts 130
Trembling, as lettered by despair, essaying,
All-hapless, with their hands alone to hide
Thei
r nakedness. And some in frenzy of woe:
Their tresses tore, and beat their breasts, and screamed.
Others against that stormy torrent of foes
Recklessly rushed, insensible of fear,
Through mad desire to aid the perishing,
Husbands or children; for despair had given
High courage. Shrieks had startled from their sleep
Soft little babes whose hearts had never known 140
Trouble — and there one with another lay
Gasping their lives out! Some there were whose dreams
Changed to a sudden vision of doom. All round
The fell Fates gloated horribly o’er the slain.
And even as swine be slaughtered in the court
Of a rich king who makes his folk a feast,
So without number were they slain. The wine
Left in the mixing-bowls was blent with blood
Gruesomely. No man bare a sword unstained
With murder of defenceless folk of Troy, 150
Though he were but a weakling in fair fight.
And as by wolves or jackals sheep are torn,
What time the furnace-breath of midnoon-heat
Darts down, and all the flock beneath the shade
Are crowded, and the shepherd is not there,
But to the homestead bears afar their milk;
And the fierce brutes leap on them, tear their throats,
Gorge to the full their ravenous maws, and then
Lap the dark blood, and linger still to slay
All in mere lust of slaughter, and provide 160
An evil banquet for that shepherd-lord;
So through the city of Priam Danaans slew
One after other in that last fight of all.
No Trojan there was woundless, all men’s limbs
With blood in torrents spilt were darkly dashed.
Nor seetheless were the Danaans in the fray:
With beakers some were smitten, with tables some,
Thrust in the eyes of some were burning brands
Snatched from the hearth; some died transfixed with spits
Yet left within the hot flesh of the swine 170
Whereon the red breath of the Fire-god beat;
Others struck down by bills and axes keen
Gasped in their blood: from some men’s hands were shorn
The fingers, who, in wild hope to escape
The imminent death, had clutched the blades of swords.
And here in that dark tumult one had hurled
A stone, and crushed the crown of a friend’s head.
Like wild beasts trapped and stabbed within a fold
On a lone steading, frenziedly they fought,
Mad with despair-enkindled rage, beneath 180
That night of horror. Hot with battle-lust
Here, there, the fighters rushed and hurried through
The palace of Priam. Many an Argive fell
Spear-slain; for whatso Trojan in his halls
Might seize a sword, might lift a spear in hand,
Slew foes — ay, heavy though he were with wine.
Upflashed a glare unearthly through the town,
For many an Argive bare in hand a torch
To know in that dim battle friends from foes.
Then Tydeus’ son amid the war-storm met 190
Spearman Coroebus, lordly Mygdon’s son,
And ‘neath the left ribs pierced him with the lance
Where run the life-ways of man’s meat and drink;
So met him black death borne upon the spear:
Down in dark blood he fell mid hosts of slain.
Ah fool! the bride he won not, Priam’s child
Cassandra, yea, his loveliest, for whose sake
To Priam’s burg but yesterday he came,
And vaunted he would thrust the Argives back
From Ilium. Never did the Gods fulfil 200
His hope: the Fates hurled doom upon his head.
With him the slayer laid Eurydamas low,
Antenor’s gallant son-in-law, who most
For prudence was pre-eminent in Troy.
Then met he Ilioneus the elder of days,
And flashed his terrible sword forth. All the limbs
Of that grey sire were palsied with his fear:
He put forth trembling hands, with one he caught
The swift avenging sword, with one he clasped
The hero’s knees. Despite his fury of war, 210
A moment paused his wrath, or haply a God
Held back the sword a space, that that old man
Might speak to his fierce foe one word of prayer.
Piteously cried he, terror-overwhelmed:
“I kneel before thee, whosoe’er thou be
Of mighty Argives. Oh compassionate
My suppliant hands! Abate thy wrath! To slay
The young and valiant is a glorious thing;
But if thou smite an old man, small renown
Waits on thy prowess. Therefore turn from me 220
Thine hands against young men, if thou dost hope
Ever to come to grey hairs such as mine.”
So spake he; but replied strong Tydeus’ son:
“Old man, I look to attain to honoured age;
But while my Strength yet waxeth, will not I
Spare any foe, but hurl to Hades all.
The brave man makes an end of every foe.”
Then through his throat that terrible warrior drave
The deadly blade, and thrust it straight to where
The paths of man’s life lead by swiftest way 230
Blood-paved to doom: death palsied his poor strength
By Diomedes’ hands. Thence rushed he on
Slaying the Trojans, storming in his might
All through their fortress: pierced by his long spear
Eurycoon fell, Perimnestor’s son renowned.
Amphimedon Aias slew: Agamemnon smote
Damastor’s son: Idomeneus struck down
Mimas: by Meges Deiopites died.
Achilles’ son with his resistless lance
Smote godlike Pammon; then his javelin pierced 240
Polites in mid-rush: Antiphonus
Dead upon these he laid, all Priam’s sons.
Agenor faced him in the fight, and fell:
Hero on hero slew he; everywhere
Stalked at his side Death’s black doom manifest:
Clad in his sire’s might, whomso he met he slew.
Last, on Troy’s king in murderous mood he came.
By Zeus the Hearth-lord’s altar. Seeing him,
Old Priam knew him and quaked not; for he longed
Himself to lay his life down midst his sons; 250
And craving death to Achilles’ seed he spake:
“Fierce-hearted son of Achilles strong in war,
Slay me, and pity not my misery.
I have no will to see the sun’s light more,
Who have suffered woes so many and so dread.
With my sons would I die, and so forget
Anguish and horror of war. Oh that thy sire
Had slain me, ere mine eyes beheld aflame
Illium, had slain me when I brought to him
Ransom for Hector, whom thy father slew. 260
He spared me — so the Fates had spun my thread
Of destiny. But thou, glut with my blood
Thy fierce heart, and let me forget my pain.”
Answered Achilles’ battle-eager son:
“Fain am I, yea, in haste to grant thy prayer.
A foe like thee will I not leave alive;
For naught is dearer unto men than life.”
With one stroke swept he off that hoary head
Lightly as when a reaper lops an ear
In a parched cornfield at the harvest-tide. 270
With lips yet murmuring low it rolled afar
From where with quivering limbs the body
lay
Amidst dark-purple blood and slaughtered men.
So lay he, chiefest once of all the world
In lineage, wealth, in many and goodly sons.
Ah me, not long abides the honour of man,
But shame from unseen ambush leaps on him
So clutched him Doom, so he forgat his woes.
Yea, also did those Danaan car-lords hurl
From a high tower the babe Astyanax, 280
Dashing him out of life. They tore the child
Out of his mother’s arms, in wrathful hate
Of Hector, who in life had dealt to them
Such havoc; therefore hated they his seed,
And down from that high rampart flung his child —
A wordless babe that nothing knew of war!
As when amid the mountains hungry wolves
Chase from the mother’s side a suckling calf,
And with malignant cunning drive it o’er
An echoing cliffs edge, while runs to and fro 290
Its dam with long moans mourning her dear child,
And a new evil followeth hard on her,
For suddenly lions seize her for a prey;
So, as she agonized for her son, the foe
To bondage haled with other captive thralls
That shrieking daughter of King Eetion.
Then, as on those three fearful deaths she thought
Of husband, child, and father, Andromaehe
Longed sore to die. Yea, for the royally-born
Better it is to die in war, than do 300
The service of the thrall to baser folk.
All piteously the broken-hearted cried:
“Oh hurl my body also from the wall,
Or down the cliff, or cast me midst the fire,
Ye Argives! Woes are mine unutterable!
For Peleus’ son smote down my noble father
In Thebe, and in Troy mine husband slew,
Who unto me was all mine heart’s desire,
Who left me in mine halls one little child,
My darling and my pride — of all mine hopes 310
In him fell merciless Fate hath cheated me!
Oh therefore thrust this broken-hearted one
Now out of life! Hale me not overseas
Mingled with spear-thralls; for my soul henceforth
Hath no more pleasure in life, since God hath slain
My nearest and my dearest! For me waits
Trouble and anguish and lone homelessness!”
So cried she, longing for the grave; for vile
Is life to them whose glory is swallowed up
Of shame: a horror is the scorn of men. 320
Delphi Complete Works of Quintus Smyrnaeus Page 28