on either side, the blood of Jupiter.
He had no children of the stronger sex,
yet he was blessed with daughters, who, to him,
were pledges of prosperity and strength.
To him had Phoebus sung of destiny.
395
(What had been thought an evil prophecy
would soon reveal itself.) The god foretold
one son-in-law would be a bristly boar,
the other one a tawny, yellow lion.
Deep in the heart a parent’s worries grow.
O Amphiaraus, seer of future things,
398
what had been hidden from you by Apollo
Adrastus could not guess, nor could you know.
It chanced Olenian Tydeus had departed
401
that very night from ancient Calydon.
• His guilt and horror at his brother’s death
drove him, exhausted, as he wore his way
through haunts of savage beasts, till burdened by
¡Þ¡Ç STATIUS, THE THEBAID
the same north wind and wet, his back infused
with frost, rain pouring from his face and beard,
he found a shelter partly occupied.
Just here, chance brought both men to bloody fight;
408
they would not share one roof to fend off night.
A little they delayed, exchanging threats,
but doing so, grew vexed. Each stood erect,
uncovered his bare shoulders, then attacked.
The Theban’s step was faster, his reach long,
414
and he was fresh in years; but Tydeus had
a soul and heart as large, and greater strength
.owed through his smaller body to his limbs.
They aimed quick jabs head-high, redoubling blows
around the ears and temples, flurries thick
• as flights of arrows or Rhipaean hail,
then bent their knees to pummel hollow flanks.
Not otherwise than when the games recur
421
at Pisa, where they honor Jupiter,
and the dust burns with crude, hot sweat of men,
where youthful athletes are made violent
by squabbles in the stands, while, shut outside,
their mothers wait to hear who wins the prize,
just so, these hotheads clashed, and, quick to hate,
had no regard for praise. They sank their nails
deep in the other’s face and naked eyes.
Surely—what won’t rage do?—they would have bared
428
their side-borne swords, and you, young Theban, would
have fallen—and been better off, mourned by
your brother—had the king, astonished by
the strange commotion in the dark of night
and harsh cries from deep throats, not taken steps.
He did not sleep well, at his time of life,
since age and apprehensions sobered him.
He now proceeded through high, well-lit halls
to his front door and had the bar removed.
He saw cut faces, cheekbones soaked in blood.
A spectacle. “You must be foreigners.
438
No citizens would dare be so uncivil.
What caused this outrage? What implacable
hatred disturbs the peace, the silent night?
Are days too short for you? Is it so hard
to calm sad souls and sleep? But tell me this:
whence come you? on what road? why do you fight?
Your anger tells me you are not base born;
this spilled blood is a sign of noble birth.”
He hardly finished. Both men yelled at once,
447
glancing at one another: “O mild king
of Argos, you can see our blood-stained faces!
What use are words?” But their loud clamors drowned
all hope of conversation. Tydeus then
• began again: “I left the Acheloian fields
453
and wealthy Calydon, the home of monsters,
to search for solace for my sad misfortunes.
I reached your country in the deep of night.
Who is this man? What right makes him deny me
a shelter from the storm?—because, by chance,
his step brought him here first? Half beast, half man,
the Centaurs share their stables. The Cyclops live
in peace, they say, on Aetna. It’s the law
of nature; even savages obey it.
And we can’t share a piece of dirt? Whoever
462
you are, I say that you will either be
happy to conquer me or learn my blood
has not grown weak from my distress. I am
the son of Oeneus—no degenerate—
and Mars.”
465
“Nor do I lack proud heritage,”
the Theban answered, but he hesitates
to name his father, mindful of his fate.
“Come now,” said mild Adrastus, “lay aside
467
your quarrel, whether caused by sudden anger,
virtue, or darkness. Welcome to my house,
both of you. Join your right hands. Pledge your faith.
The gods have not been absent, nor in vain
this strife. Perhaps you will remember it
with pleasure, and how love to come sent forth
this hatred as its harbinger.” The end
473
the old man spoke of was not idle, since,
• indeed, they say, the loyalty their wounds
produced matched that of wild Pirithoüs
after his war with Theseus or that
of Pylades, who saved Orestes when
the fury named Megaera drove him mad.
Just as when windblown seas grow calm, and sails
478
luff in the last remaining, lingering breeze,
they let the king (for they had suffered) soothe
their hard—now unresisting—hearts. They entered.
–.–.–.–
The king now first had leisure to regard
482
his visitors’ demeanor, and he saw,
among their armaments, that one man wore
a lion skin that bristled down his back.
Its shaggy mane hung down his sides. It looked
like the one Hercules, when he was young,
slew in Teumesia, before he killed
• and wore the Nemean lion in Cleonae.
• The Calydonian boar—an honored hide—
490
with terrible stiff hair and long, curved tusks
was draped around the shoulders of stout Tydeus.
Stunned by an omen of such magnitude
the king stood motionless, acknowledging
divine prevision, portents cavern-given,
Apollo’s oracle. His frozen face
concealed his contemplation. Veneration
seized him, and he rejoiced, for he believed
the power of the gods had brought these men
and they would be the son-in-laws ordained
by the ambiguous prediction of
prophet Apollo to appear as beasts.
He stretched his hands, palms upturned, to the stars:
497
“Night, you enfold the labors of the earth
and heavens. You propel the shooting stars
on errant courses. You restore men’s souls.
You let tomorrow’s sun shine healthful rays
500
on our in.rmities; you give me strength.
You bring me understanding when I stray
and seek the truth through error’s mazy way,
for you unveil the ancient oracles.
Now guide my hand. Corroborat
e your omens.
Through the revolving years this house will keep
your memory intact, and two black sheep,
o goddess, will be sacri.ced to you,
as Vulcan’s flames, splashed with fresh milk, consume
the entrails of our lustral offering.
I hail the truth of cauldrons and deep caves.
Fortune, I feel the presence of the gods!”
He spoke and took the two men by the hand
510
into an inner hall beneath his roof.
White ash slept on the altars where low flames
still warmed libations, sacred to the gods.
The king commanded hearths be lit anew
and that the banquet recommence. At once,
waiters emerged from nowhere, and a din
rang through the royal residence. Attendants
cushioned the couches; strewed thin, purple lawn
and rustling cloth of gold; or on high walls
hung tapestries; or lifted up by hand
smooth, polished tables where the feast would stand.
Others strung chains of lanterns whose gold light
520
defeated shadows in the darkened night.
Butchered meat, drained of blood, was slipped on spits
that servants turned, or they filled canisters
with ground-grain cereals and bread. The bustle
and effort pleased Adrastus, who displayed
himself upon on ivory throne, arrayed
with bolsters, royal robes, and cloth of state.
Elsewhere the young men washed their wounds and then
527
reclined at table, and those hurts established
a common bond, and they apologized.
Tydeus forgave, and so did Polynices.
–.–.–.–
¡Ü¡Ù STATIUS, THE THEBAID
Then the king called his daughters’ nurse, Acaste.
529
She was the one he trusted to instill
a sense of modesty in them, to keep
his girls intact until with lawful rites
of Venus they were married. Standing silent,
she listened as the old king held her ear.
She carried out Adrastus’s commands
533
and led both maidens from their inner room.
They walked before her. They looked wonderful,
like Pallas, clangorous with arms, or like
Diana, with her quiver charges, but
they caused no terror. Facing unknown men,
they showed no impropriety; their cheeks
blushed red and white with shy variety;
their eyes were lowered, and they only saw
their father, whom they held in veneration.
With hunger banished and the tables cleared,
Adrastus asked some servants for his bowl,
the custom of the house of Iäsus.
It was bright gold, engraved with images,
from which the gods’ libations had been poured
by Danaus and Phoroneus, former kings.
• Cast images in raised-relief displayed
543
the snake-haired Gorgon’s severed head whose eyes,
heavy with death, and fainting mouth yet seemed
to move and grow pale in the metal gold,
just as her gilt-winged victor seemed to fly
unsteadily in air. Here Ganymede,
548
the Phrygian hunter, rose on golden wings.
His comrades mourned him, and his hounds grew weary
baying in vain at clouds or chasing shadows.
As Ganymede ascended, Troy receded,
and Gargara (Mount Ida) seemed to sink.
Wine over.owed this bowl as King Adrastus
552
called on the gods of heaven, Phoebus first.
The company, including servants, moved
around Apollo’s altar, singing hymns
and crowned with simple branches. Frankincense
smoked from the glowing fires that they renewed
in honor of Apollo’s holy day.
The king spoke: “My young visitors, you may
557
wonder what is the origin of our
ritual supplication of the god.
It is not blind religion; rather, we
Argives atone for what we have endured.
• If you will hear the story, I’ll explain:
.”The Python was a serpent born of earth
562
that wreathed its black tail into seven folds
and wrapped its sinuous, prodigious rolls
near Delphi. It crushed oak trees and lay sprawled
by the Castilian spring, where its three tongues
imbibed the nutriments that make black venom.
There, Phoebus killed it. Phoebus tracked it down
and riddled it with arrows. There it died,
stretched on a hundred acres of Cirrhaeus.
“Stained by that slaughter, needing to appease
569
the deity, Apollo undertook
a quest that brought him to the humble roof
where lived our king Crotopus and his daughter.
She verged on womanhood. She had not known
the marriage couch, but she was beautiful
and she maintained the household gods with grace.
She would have been much happier had she
not shared Apollo’s furtive love, or known
his secret, Apollonian desire,
for she was ravished by the god beside
575
Nemea’s fetid waters. After, when
the moon had filled its orb full twice five times,
her womb produced a son, Latona’s grandson,
and he was like a star—he was that handsome.
Yet she feared punishment (the king would blame
his daughter, even though she had been raped),
and so she chose to wander trackless wastes,
and there, among the sheepfolds, secretly
gave up her newborn baby to be raised
¡Ü¡Ü STATIUS, THE THEBAID
and parented by those who roamed the mountains.
The infant, taken in, deserved a bed
582
better than one of grass, a better roof
than one of woven oak. His limbs were wrapped
in arbute bark for warmth, and shepherd’s pipes
of hollow reeds persuaded him to sleep
as he lay on the ground beside the sheep.
Nevertheless, his fate would not permit him
586
even this household, for a pack of dogs
attacked him in the meadow where he lay,
open-mouthed, breathing drafts of air. Their rage
was indiscriminate; their bloody maws
ripped him to pieces. This news reached the ears
of his astonished mother, who was torn
The Thebaid Page 7
