Your father carried you to term, so Tyrian
colonists kept a custom, for that reason,
of playing through the night. Indoors and on
the fields they lie at random. Woven garlands
and empty bowls surround them; when it’s day,
their breaths exhale the god. Their cymbals play
and drown the sound of bull-skin drums and flutes.
Sensible women, driven to Bacchic frenzy,
79
take pleasure in Cithaeron’s trackless groves.
• They celebrate like wild Bistonians,
who feast on half-dead cattle chewed by lions
on Rhodope or deep in Ossa’s hollows.
Newly drawn milk subdues the taste of blood
and seems, to them, a luxury, unless
• the drunken scent of Theban Iacchus
blows over them. Then ecstasy it is
to scatter rocks and wine cups and the blood
of innocent companions in the morning—
≥≠ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
to start fresh and resume their festive meals.
89
In such a night as this, the swift Cyllenian
glided through silence to the king of Thebes
and reached the lofty couch where he had thrown
his body, cushioned by Assyrian rugs.
His heart knew nothing of his mortal fate;
he’d had his feast, and now he took his sleep.
Meanwhile, the ghost performed his mission. Not
94
to seem some false night vision, he adopted
the shaded visage, voice, and famous garb
of old Tiresias, the prophet. He
maintained his own gray hair and flowing beard
and pallor, but he feigned the sacred fillets
woven with silver olive leaves. Around
his head he wore these badges of respect.
The apparition held an olive branch
100
and touched the chest of King Eteocles.
He spoke these words to warn him of his fate:
‘‘Sluggard! there is no time for you to sleep,
to lie unmoving here. The night is deep!
Be wary of your brother! Mighty deeds
and serious preparations beckon, yet
you hesitate like some Ionian sailor
when south winds swell the seas and clouds turn black—
he does not think about his ship or how
the ocean twists his rudder!
‘‘Everyone knows
your brother married well, that he enlists
soldiers and seeks the kingdom you deny him.
He plans to spend old age in your high halls!
He is encouraged by an augury
111
come true, that said Adrastus would be his
father-in-law and give an Argive dowry.
Stained by fraternal blood and full of selfimportance,
Tydeus joins your brother’s cause
and promises long banishment for you.
The father of the gods commiserates,
115
BOOK ≤ ≥∞
and he has sent me here to say: keep Thebes,
and keep your brother out! He’s blinded by
his craving for your kingdom. He would dare
do the same thing. Do not permit a man
who studies your destruction to succeed
in his foul undertaking. He would make
Mycenae mistress over Cadmus’ city!’’
He spoke, and even as the pale stars dimmed
120
before the horses of the sun, he threw
aside his olive branch and drew his cloak
open. There’s no mistaking the grandfather,
who hovered above his grandson’s bed. He bared
his throat—the gash received when he was murdered—
and let blood overflow the sleeping king.
Peace shattered, he awoke from his bad dream.
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He shook imagined blood o√, terrified
by his grandfather’s ghost, but equally
intent to find his brother—like a tiger
who arches when the sounds of hunters reach
her den. She shakes o√ sleep, prepares for battle,
flexes her jaws, and lets her claws extend
before she rushes out among the hunters
and seizes one, still breathing, in her mouth
to carry back to feed her savage young.
Just so, the Theban tyrant was aroused
and ready to confront his absent brother.
–?–?–?–
And now Aurora left her husband’s bed
134
and cut the frozen shadows of the skies.
She shook her dripping hair and crimsoned as
the sun pursued her—that is, Lucifer,
whose languid steeds move slowly through the heavens
as lingering scarlet flames undo damp mists.
He is the fiery father, he who fills
the world with rays, but who does not allow
sunlight to reach his sister.
≥≤ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
Elderly
Adrastus, on this morning, rose not long
before the heroes of the Dirce and
the Achelous rivers left their beds.
The horn of Sleep had poured its plenty on
143
Tydeus and Polynices, weary from
the tempest that had punished them, but scant
slumber had visited the king of Argos,
for in his mind he thought about the gods,
the friendships he’d begun, the sons-in-law
the fates had promised. Having met within
the middle court, they shook hands but then sought
a place inside the palace where they could
keep secrets and express their deepest thoughts.
Adrastus put his proposition first:
151
‘‘Something not undivine—perhaps Apollo—
guided you, excellent young men, through darkness,
through rain and thunder, through the storm and lightning
of Jupiter, to reach my realm and house.
I think that you and every Greek must know
with what devices crowds of suitors seek
my daughters and the right to marry them,
for I have twins, my promise of grandchildren,
who’ve grown beneath the same stars into women.
Their honor and their virtue may be gauged
by the behavior you saw yesterday
when feasting. You need not believe their father:
they are the objects of proud men with kingdoms
• and mighty armies, Spartans and Pharaeans,
great men, too numerous to count. Achaean
mothers in every city hope their sons
will marry them, more than your father Oeneus
considered for alliance or who feared
• the Pisan father’s chariot. But fate
permits no Spartan sires or sons-in-law
from Elis, for by long decree the cares
attendant on my kingdom and my blood
have been ordained for you. The gods are good!
170
Prophecies please when they bring men of birth
BOOK ≤ ≥≥
this spirited. This is the prize the hard
night’s storm has brought you; this is your reward
for everything you’ve su√ered and endured.’’
The young men listened, their eyes fixed, regarding
173
each other for long instants to determine
who would permit the other first to speak,
but, bold in every undertaking, Tydeus
began: ‘‘Your mind is mellow, therefore you
are sparing in self-prai
se. Your virtue conquers
whatever Fortune hands you. Who commands
178
more power than Adrastus? Everyone
knows you established law in untamed Argos
after you had been driven from your home
• in Sicyon. If only Jupiter
had let the nations bound within the Doric
Isthmos, as well as those beyond her margins,
• prosper beneath your rule! Mycenae’s crimes
184
would not have dimmed the sun, nor would the savage
• battles in Elis have made valleys groan.
How many other kingdoms would have been
spared the Eumenides—the Furies? Theban,
nobody knows this better than yourself.
Therefore, our minds are set and truly willing.’’
Those were his words, and his companion added:
188
‘‘Would anyone refuse this marriage o√er?
It is not often Venus favors exiles
without a country; here our hearts are settled;
our minds no longer linger over sorrows.
Our comfort is no less than that of sailors
who spy a friendly harbor after storms
that batter them. We are delighted that
the omens welcome visitors. We join
to you our fortunes, labors, lives, and fates.’’
Without delay, the three men rose. The king
197
of Argos added weight to what he’d said
by promising assistance in the future
to reinstate the exiles in their homes.
≥∂ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
The happy Argives heard the news, which ran
201
throughout the city, that great men had come
as sons-in-law to wed the well-endowed
young virgins: beautiful Argia and,
deserving no less praise, Deipyle,
Argia’s sister. People talked in public
in allied towns and nearby fields, in woodlands
high on Lycaeus and Parthenius,
as they prepared to celebrate their joy.
Rumor, the goddess who confuses things,
205
had reached the lands of Corinth, even Thebes,
over whose walls she spread her wings and rained
down terror: her mad mouth was unrestrained.
To King Eteocles, who heard her ravings,
it felt as if his past night’s dream continued:
Rumor told him of friendships, marriages,
alliances, mixed nations—also war.
In Argos, it rained happiness: the day
213
had come, and revelers gained entrance to
the royal palace, where they saw, up close,
spectacular reliefs that illustrated
their history; the bronze art vied with life,
• so skillfully was it conceived. It showed
217
the twin-horned Father Inachus himself,
propped on his left against a tilted urn.
He is attended by Iasius,
by peaceful, old Phoroneus, and the image
of Abas, who makes war; Acrisius,
who curses at the Thunderer; Coroebus,
who bears a head upon his naked sword;
and Danaus too, who contemplates great crimes.
A thousand others followed. Commoners
223
streamed through the lofty portals of the palace,
but standing in the first rank were the men
who ranked beside the king in precedence.
Within the hall the altar fires grew warm;
226
the sound of female voices echoed; chaste
BOOK ≤ ≥Σ
matrons of Argos formed a ring around
the queen, and others tended to her daughters.
Some calmed their fears; some o√ered them advice
to help them act correctly: modesty
230
made them remarkable for how they moved
and gazed—their eyes were lowered—and they blushed
a color suited to their shamefastness.
Sudden nostalgia for their virgin state
came over them, and as they felt their guilt,
tears dewed their honest faces, and their parents,
who knew why they were weeping, were delighted.
They might have been Minerva and Apollo’s
236
• fierce sister: keen, well armored, wearing their
blond hair upwoven, leading followers
• from Cynthus and from Aracynthus. If
the eyes of humans could behold such things,
then you might gaze forever to determine
which one was more resplendent, which displayed
more grace or more of Jupiter; and had
they changed their clothes, the crested helmet
would suit Diana, and the quiver, Pallas.
The Argives strove to celebrate;
244
they wore the gods out with their vows; each house
observed what sacrifice it could prepare:
entrails or slaughtered animals or turf,
but all were heard; the gods rewarded those
who cared, who o√ered frankincense, who shaded
their doors with branches. Lachesis, however—
249
the Fate who weaves the threads of life—took pleasure
in sudden terror. Minds grew numb. The father’s
joy all but vanished, and the day was ruined!
There on the threshold of unwed Minerva
251
(for she esteemed Larissa’s fortress in
Argos no less than she did Athens), where
according to the custom of their parents,
young Argive women on the brink of marriage
o√ered their maiden tresses to atone
for their first time in bed, a great bronze shield,
≥Π STATIUS, THE THEBAID
the spoil of the Arcadian Euhippus,
fell from the tower. It hit those who climbed
the stairs to reach the summit and extinguished
the forward torches, casting darkness over
the light of the processional; what’s more,
everyone hesitated as, from far,
an oracle emitted horns of war.
Fearful at first, they turned toward the king
262
refusing to admit what they had heard,
although they knew the omen was disastrous,
and they increased this feeling as they whispered.
No marvel, for, Argia, you were wearing
a most unlucky gift your husband gave you—
the fatal necklace of Harmonia.
The narrative is long, but what is known267
about this evil thing I shall rehearse
so you will know the power of its curse.
The Thebaid Page 9
