The Thebaid
Page 20
its height, borne up by gasping day; when vapors
hang over lazy fields, and groves of trees
admit long shafts of sunlight through their leaves.
He gathered water spirits, and when they
were silent, he addressed them in their midst:
‘‘O goddesses of rivers, rustic Nymphs!
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I o√er you this chance; do me this favor:
obstruct the Argive river at the source.
Constrict the wandering streams and lakes with silt.
Let all the deepest waters drain away
in Nemea, where they attack our walls.
Phoebus will help, if you are resolute.
The sun has reached its height. The Dog Star rages,
and constellations bless this enterprise.
Be of good cheer; hide in the depths of earth.
When this is over, I will call you forth
in overflowing streams, and your reward
will be the ample gifts that deck my altars.
Licentious horn-foot Centaurs will no longer
violate you at night, nor Fauns steal love.’’
∞≠∫ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
And even as he spoke, a film of mold
withered their cheeks and eyes, and blue-green beads
of moisture radiated from their hair.
Drought dried the plains along the Inachus;
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streams disappeared; the springs and lakes drained dry.
In empty beds of rivers, mud baked hard.
Sick barrenness was suddenly on the soil.
New-planted grains let drop their slender tips.
Along the riverbanks stood wondering flocks,
and cattle searched for brooks where once they bathed.
So Nile recedes and hides inside deep caves;
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he swallows down the liquid nourishment
of eastern winters. Waterless valleys steam,
and gasping Egypt waits to hear the roar
of Father Nile’s waves in Pharian fields,
when prayers will bring them food, a good year’s yield.
The noxious Lerna ran dry. Parched were Lyrceus;
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the mighty river Inachus; Charadrus,
which rolls down swimming rocks; bold Erasinus,
which never holds its banks; and that well-known
and oceanlike Asterion, which wakes
the shepherds in the highlands, far from roads.
Only Langia nourished secret streams
in hidden shades. She did so as the god
commanded, for Archemorus still lived.
He had not given her his mournful name,
nor made the goddess famous. She preserved
her unfrequented groves, her fountains, waiting
for her great glory, when the Greeks compete
in the triennial contests held to honor
sacred Opheltes, sad Hypsipyle.
–?–?–?–
Hot thirst consumed the soldiers, who’d no strength
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to bear their burning shields or wear close links
of chain mail on their bodies. Their tight throats
felt fiery, and their fevers made them shake;
BOOK ∂ ∞≠Ω
their hearts were racing, and their veins congealed;
their blood was spoiled and thickened in their guts.
The earth stunk from the sun and turned to dust;
it gave o√ clouds of heat; no flecks of foam
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fell from the steeds, whose tongues drooped, and whose lips
licked dry their chain-link bridles. Flocks obeyed
neither their laws nor leaders: overheated,
they wandered fields. Meanwhile, Adrastus ordered
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explorers out to find Licymnian lakes
or learn if Amymone still held water,
but unseen flames had dried up every vein;
there was no hope Olympus would bring rain;
they might as well have wandered through the sands
of Africa or yellow Libya
• or Syene, where no clouds o√er shade.
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–?–?–?–
Bacchus himself prepared what happened next.
While wandering a wooded area,
they suddenly beheld Hypsipyle,
whose sorrow made her beautiful. She held
Opheltes to her breast, although the child
was not her own, but the unlucky son
of King Lycurgus, who ruled Nemea.
Her dress was modest and her hair disheveled,
but she was regal, and her face revealed it.
Her sorrows had not overcome her grace.
Adrastus, in astonishment, said this:
‘‘O goddess, you must rule this forest, for
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your looks and manner say you are no mortal!
You who rejoice beneath these fiery skies
and seek not water, succor those nearby!
Whether Diana or Latonia
chose you for marriage from among the virgins,
or whether love descended from the stars
without humility and made you breed—
for he who rules the gods is not unknown
∞∞≠ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
to visit Argive women in their beds—
behold this su√ering army! We have set
our minds on Thebes, which merits punishment!
This bitter drought, though, undermines our spirit,
makes us unfit for war and drains our strength.
Is idleness our fate? this weariness?
Give us a muddy stream, a filthy swamp:
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anything! Our position makes us shameless.
Nothing is too abysmal. We now pray
to you instead of Jove or Winds and Rain.
Restore our vanished strength. Prepare our hearts
for battle, though we’re weak. So may the stars
favor your son in his maturing years!
If Jove lets us return, you will receive
the spoils of war in untold quantities!
I will requite you, goddess, with the grazing
sheep of the Dirce and with numerous slaves!
This grove will hold an altar to your fame!’’
He spoke in gasps, as heat cut o√ his speech.
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His dry tongue stuttered as he tried to breathe.
Like him, his men were pale, with sunken cheeks;
they panted, and the Lemnian woman answered,
her eyes cast down. ‘‘To you I seem a goddess—
indeed, my origin is heavenly—
but what’s the use? The grief that pierces me
is more than mortals su√er. I have nothing,
although you see me nursing someone’s child.
God knows if my own sons have been embraced
and fed from fruitful breasts. Yet I possessed
a kingdom once. I had a mighty father.
‘‘But why should I recall these things and keep
you weary soldiers from the streams you seek?
Follow along with me. Perhaps Langia
preserves some water in a shallow pool,
for he flows even when the sun’s path runs
through burning Cancer, or the Dog Star rages!’’
She did not want to slow the Danaans down,
whom she would lead, so she removed the baby
BOOK ∂ ∞∞∞
who clung to her and laid him on the turf.
(The Fates—the Parcae—instigated this.)
After she set him there, the baby cried.
To stop the infant’s tears, she gathered flowers
and soothed his weeping with her lullabies,
• as when the Berecynthian mother ordered
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e
xcited Curetes—inhabitants of Crete—
to dance around the little Thunderer:
they pounded drums and cymbals in their orgies,
and Ida echoed back the infant’s screams.
The baby crawled face forward through the lap
of vernal earth, and as he tottled forward
through waving grass, he trampled tender herbs
and cried for his dear nurse, demanding milk,
but then recovered. He resumed his laughter,
and his young lips attempted to form words.
He grasped at objects lying in his way,
questioned the woodland sounds, inhaled the day
with open mouth, and did not know the dangers
the forest hid. Life felt secure. He strayed.
• So did young Mars upon the Thracian snows;
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so did the winged boy along the peak
of Mount Maenalius; and irresponsible
Apollo crawled the same way on the sands
of Delos, and he made the island slant.
–?–?–?–
The Argives traveled through an undergrowth
of aimless paths and devious green shades.
Some raced ahead; some stayed beside their guide;
a smaller group of people only followed.
Hypsipyle moved quickly in their midst
and bore herself in not unhumble fashion.
They neared the river now, and they could hear
the valley echo and the sound of rapids.
Argus exulted first and cried out ‘‘Water!’’
He bore the standard for the faster troops,
∞∞≤ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
and soon the word had run from mouth to mouth,
a long loud cry of ‘‘Water!’’ like the sound
that rings out from young sailors at their oars.
Their o≈cer commands them to salute
• Phoebus, who shows them Leucas (where he’s worshiped).
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Their loud shouts echo from Ambracian shores.
The leaders and their men swam through the flood;
thirst leveled them; there was no sense of order,
no way to separate the mingled ranks.
Horses hauled chariots or dragged along
their armored riders; some were carried o√;
some slipped on glistening rocks; none were ashamed
to tread on kings the current swept away
or trample drowning friends who called for aid.
The rapids roared. Far from the river’s source,
the channel that was formerly translucent—
a slow, green stream of crystal pools—now swirled
with mud stirred from its depths, with chunks of bank
and clumps of loosened grass and sod. Men drank
the silt and flowing filth, although their thirst
had ended. You would think you saw armed ranks
in righteous battle, raging in the torrent,
or conquerors consume a captured city.
One king, surrounded by the river, cried:
‘‘Queen of green forests, chosen seat of Jove,
o Nemea! You treat us more severely
than you did Hercules when his hands seized
• the raging lion’s shaggy mane and squeezed
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the breath from swollen limbs. You have tormented
your worshipers, so therefore be content
as we begin our war. Flow on, horned river,
provider of an everlasting stream.
May your cool waves continue from wherever
they take their origin! No winter stores
white snow for you, nor does the rainbow pour
cool waters stolen from another source,
nor are you favored by the pregnant clouds
that ride the northeast wind. You are your own!
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No star can stop your flow, which neither Phoebus’
• Ladon nor Xanthus, threatening Spercheos
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• or Centaur-like Lycormas can surpass.
When we return exhausted from the wars—
beneath the cloud of battle or in peace—
I will requite you with a celebration
worthy of Jupiter, a festive meal,
if you will once more open your kind shores
to strangers and recall whom you restored!’’
–?–?–?–
BOOK 5 Women of Lemnos
The women of Lemnos fail to worship Venus and the men prefer war. The frenzy of Polyxo. Hypsipyle saves her father Thoas, son of Bacchus. The Argonauts arrive. Jason abandons Hypsipyle. Bacchus saves her. Pirates sell her. She nurses the baby of King Lycurgus. Jupiter’s serpent kills the infant Opheltes. Amphiaraus calls for funeral games.
Its thirst relieved, the Argive army left
the ravaged riverbed and shrunken stream;
their horses now ran rapidly through meadows,
and celebrating soldiers filled the fields.
Their spirit was restored, and they renewed
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their threats and vows, as if they’d drunk the fire
of warfare mixed with blood from flowing springs.
Courageous thoughts of battle filled their minds.
The troops once more pursued the rule of order.
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Squadrons reorganized, and each man found
his former place and leader and was warned
to recommence the march.
Now the first dust
rose from the earth, and weapons shone through foliage,
just as when winter dims and whirring lines
of cranes, across the sea, abandon bright
• Pharus and leave the Paraetonian Nile:
they fly with fleeting sounds, reechoed by
the pathless skies, like shadows on the waves
or over fields, and they endure the rain
and Borean north wind, until they swim
unfrozen rivers and rejoice to spend
their summer on unforested Mount Haemus.
Adrastus, son of Talaus—once more
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wreathed by a circle of his generals—
BOOK Σ ∞∞Σ
by chance stood underneath an ancient oak.
• He leaned on Polynices’ spear, then spoke:
‘‘Woman, whoever you may be, your glory
is great, and fate has brought us, numberless
soldiers, to owe you debts and honors that
the father of the gods would not despise.
As we speed from your waters, say to us
what is your home and country, from what stars
do you draw life? Who is this father whom
you mentioned? For indeed, you cannot be
far from divinity. Your fortune may
have faded, but your face shows noble blood.
Singed by adversity, it breathes respect.’’