• Vulcan devised this gift as his revenge.
The former age has handed down the story
• that when the lord of Lemnos long endured
the secret passion Mars and Venus shared—
which his complaints could not amend, nor his
avenging chain-link net correct—he crafted
a talisman or charm to grace Harmonia,
their daughter, on her wedding day. The Cyclops,
273
though skilled in greater tasks, began to work,
• in friendly rivalry with the Telchines,
a family of famous artisans,
but Vulcan sweated most: he shaped a ring
of emeralds that glittered secret fire
and adamant; on it he etched the figures
of evil fortune and the Gorgon. Ashes
remaining from the lightning bolt last fashioned
on that Sicilian anvil added green
fluorescence to the vipers that slid down
the mane of the Medusa. Vulcan used
• the mournful fruit of the Hesperides
BOOK ≤ ≥π
and gold, dread gold from Phrixus’ golden fleece,
281
and he wove in the strength of di√erent plagues,
the bull-snake taken from Tisiphone’s
• black forehead, and the force of Venus’ cestus.
He shrewdly bathed the whole with lunar foam
and melted pleasing poison through the jewel.
Whose right hand formed the object? It was not
286
the most alluring of the sister graces,
the one named Pasithea, not Fair Form
or Cupid, the Idalian boy, but Grief,
Torment, Dissension, and Distress. Harmonia
felt its e√ect first in Illyria:
Cadmus, her serpent husband, crawled around;
her own mouth hissed; her prone length furrowed ground.
As soon as Semele had put the poisoned
292
jewels on her neck, deceitful Juno crossed
her threshold. People say the gift belonged
to you as well, unfortunate Jocasta!
Its horror suited you; its beauty made
you feel attractive, pleasing to the man
who shared your bed. There will be other owners,
but now Argia glittered with the necklace,
adorned with that cursed gold that made her sister’s
jewelry seem tawdry by comparison.
• The wife of one whose death was near (the prophet
299
Amphiaraus) plotted—as she stood
in front of every altar, at each feast—
on secret schemes to make that dread jewel hers.
She did not understand the auguries.
What groans she longed for; o what devastation
the evil woman wanted—and deserved!
But must her husband su√er, whom she lured
to arms, and must her guiltless son go mad?
–?–?–?–
After twelve days of royal banqueting,
after the public celebration finished,
≥∫ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
the Ismenian hero turned his thoughts to Thebes:
307
he longed to have a chance to rule that realm.
He thought about the day his brother won
the lots they cast, how he had been deprived
of place in the Echion palace; how he watched
the gods desert him; how his anxious friends
abandoned him; how Fortune fled; how he
remained alone, exposed: Antigone
313
accompanied his first sad steps of exile—
she’d dared that much—but he had left her at
the outset, when his anger was so great
he could not even weep as he withdrew.
He’d taken note of those he’d seen rejoicing
(the close associates of their vile king)
and those who su√ered at his banishment.
Each night and every day, hot anger ate
his soul, and crazy indignation, and
that heaviest of mortal sorrows—hope
that has been long delayed. Such was the cloud
of thought that occupied his heart as he
decided to go home, though banned, to Thebes,
back to the town of Cadmus on the Dirce.
After a chief bull loses his loved valley—
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after the victor orders him to leave
his customary grass, that he may bellow
o√ in the distance for his captured cow—
his muscles gain fresh vigor during exile;
his mighty neck, engorged with blood, renews;
his chest breaks oaks; his horns and hooves grow strong.
He wants his pasture, seeks his captured herd.
Although the shepherds hardly recognize him,
his vanquisher feels fear when he returns.
So Polynices made his anger keen
331
by silent brooding, but his loyal wife
knew he had secrets and he planned to travel.
She lay in bed and held him in the early
333
pale light of dawn. ‘‘When was my lord so shrewdly
tempered?’’ she said, ‘‘or bothered so by exile?
BOOK ≤ ≥Ω
Lovers see all! You lie awake at night,
cry out, and sigh; you never sleep in peace.
How often have I seen tears bathe your face
and touched you with my hand to calm the cares
that make you groan? I am not moved by broken
339
marital obligations, nor the threat
of widowed youth. Our love is young; our bed
has not grown cold since I became a bride.
My love, I must confess: your welfare is
what worries me. Will you pursue your kingdom
unarmed, with no companion? If your brother
denies you, will he let you out of Thebes?
Fame is a skillful analyst of leaders.
345
Fame says he is a proud man, insolent,
a plunderer who showed hostility
even before his year had run its course.
Soothsayers frighten me: they see divine
warnings in flights of birds and vital organs;
night visions trouble me, and I have seen
Juno, for real, in dreams! Where are you going?
There has to be some woman, one whose father
has o√ered better marriage terms in Thebes!’’
This last made Polynices laugh, if briefly:
352
he calmed his wife’s soft sorrow, and he held her.
He kissed her mournful cheeks to stop her tears,
in timely fashion. ‘‘Free your soul from fear.
Believe me, I will seek advice from men
of merit. Days of peace will follow. Cares
beyond your years should not be your concern.
If the Saturnian father—Jupiter—
should learn of my ill fate, and Justice cast
her gaze down from the heavens and attend
to virtue on this earth, then there may come
a day when you, as queen, will travel through
twin cities to survey your husband’s walls.’’
He spoke, then hurried through the threshold he
363
adored to talk to Tydeus, his companion,
whose loyal breast felt—as his own—his cares
(for so men who have striven will be friends).
∂≠ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
He also had to speak to King Adrastus,
their father-in-law.
367
–?–?–?–
They lingered in debate,
then they approved, of many plans proposed,
the best one—best because they would discern
his brother’s credibility and learn
if an ambassador might safely journey
to Thebes and back. The man of daring, Tydeus,
at once assumed the task. No less were you,
strongest Aetolian, restrained by tears,
but all the e√orts of Deipyle
were vanquished by her father’s orders, by
the custom of safe conduct granted envoys,
and by her sister’s justified persuasions.
Already he was measuring hard roads
375
through forests and along the coast: the swamp
of Lerna, where the burned-out Hydra warms
those deep, unholy waters; Nemea,
through which few shepherds yet dare play
their songs; the morning side of Ephyres,
where southeast winds touch Corinth; past the port
of Sisyphus, and round the curving bay
Palaemon blessed—Lechaeum—where the shore
is riled by waves. His path took him past Nisus.
O gentle Eleusin, he passed you
on his left side. Teumesian fields received him,
and then he reached the battlements of Thebes,
entered, and there beheld Eteocles,
384
a hard man on a high throne walled by spears
that bristled upright. He breached time and law
and kept the kingdom that he owed his brother
under his savage sway. He sat, prepared
for anything, and griped about the lateness
of this request that he maintain his promise.
Holding an olive branch, which signified
389
his status as an envoy, Tydeus
BOOK ≤ ∂∞
stood openly before him to explain
the reason for his journey, and, when asked,
he gave his name. But he was rude of speech
and always quick to quarrel, and he mixed
rough words with what he properly should say:
‘‘If you dealt plainly and maintained your promise,
393
you would have sent legations to your brother
after your year was finished. It was right,
it was your turn, to set aside good fortune,
to be content to yield your kingdom, so
your brother, who had wandered endlessly—
who had endured indignities in towns
no one has heard of—could succeed to o≈ce.
That is what you agreed. But you—because
you love sweet rule, and power is enticing—
have to be begged. The circle of the stars
has turned through its swift orbit once already,
the mountain leaves have fallen and renewed,
during which time your brother has endured
the bitterness of exile, indigence,
and unknown cities. Now, it is your turn
403
to pass your days in open weather, lay
your body on the cold ground, be submissive
before a strangers’ hearth gods while you wander.
It’s time to end your revels. Long enough
you’ve made yourself look rich in gold and purple;
you’ve mocked your brother’s year of poverty.
I’m warning you, now you must learn to live
without the joy of making other men
obey you. Su√er exile. Earn your throne!’’
While he was speaking, his opponent smoldered.
410
He felt hot flames consume his silent heart,
just like a snake that nurses constant thirst
in dry shades till its rock moves; then it draws
venom into its scaly neck and jaws.
Its body wracked, it closes in.
415
‘‘Were I
to have suspected, by uncertain signs,
∂≤ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
my brother’s animosity toward me,
and were his secret hatred not apparent,
your rudeness would su≈ce to indicate
his mind, which you prefigure, like those men
sent forth to undermine a city’s walls
or trumpets that announce a hostile army.
Your militance foreruns his. Had you faced
420
• Bistonians with your message, or Geloni—
pale from the lack of sun—you would have been
more sparing in your speech, more reverent
for protocols your mission here demands!
‘‘I would not lay the charge of this o√ense,
423
this madness of the mind, on one who serves;
what you repeat is what you have been told.
But since your speech has been so full of threats—
you seek my scepter but you o√er nothing
to guarantee security or safety
and you are quick to seize your weapon’s hilt—
then bear my words to your Argolic master,
although they cannot hope to equal yours:
‘Why should I envy your accomplishments?
The lots we cast were just; my years deserve
428
this o≈ce and the scepter that I hold—
and long will hold. You own a dowry palace,
the gift of your King Adrastus, your wife’s father.
The wealth of Danaus has been heaped before you.
In Argos and along the Lerna, may
432
the auspices be fortunate, and may
you rule supreme. Scru√ pastures on the Dirce,
Euboean coasts of little width are ours,
and we who rule do not disdain to say
our father is the miserable Oedipus.
Your noble line will not be traced to Pelops
and Tantalus, for you have married blood
more closely tied to Jupiter. Why bring
a wife accustomed to her father’s riches
here, to this house? According to our custom,
439
our sisters must attend her. Mother mourns
incessantly; she lives in filth. The old
BOOK ≤ ∂≥
man’s curses echo loudly from deep shadows
and interfere with our religious rites.
‘‘ ‘The people are accustomed to my yoke.
442
The commoners and lords would be ashamed
to su√er alterations; they would groan
under uncertain leadership. Short terms
of o≈ce are a burden to the state.
It irks men to obey inconstant rule.
Look at the terror and astonishment
my danger breeds among the citizens.
‘‘ ‘My brother, you would come to Thebes in anger!
The Thebaid Page 10
