The Thebaid
Page 32
While they were watching, Polynices turned
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to kiss his mother first, then young Ismene,
and then Antigone, whose tears adjured him.
Commotion gripped his soul, and he forgot
his kingdom’s cause: he wished to go, and mild
Adrastus was no obstacle, but Tydeus,
mindful of righteous anger, interrupted:
‘‘It would be better, o companions, to send me
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to see the king; I have experienced
the goodwill of Eteocles and bear
his brand of peace and good faith on my chest.
Where was this mother mediator then—
that night I was hospitably detained?
Is this the trade for which your trained your son?
Why don’t you lead him to the reeking field,
rich with the blood of Thebans and my own?
‘‘ Youare too soft! Will you forget your friends?
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Will you be led by her? When hostile hands
unsheathe their swords around you, will she weep
and end the conflict? Will Eteocles—
you fool—dismiss you to the Argive camp
when you are trapped in Thebes and prey to hate?
This lance will first sprout leaves and lose its point
and both our native rivers flow reversed.
‘‘You seek peace and a gentle colloquy
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among fierce weapons. Well, this camp is open;
nothing to fear out here. Am I suspected?
I will depart and leave behind my wounds.
BOOK π ∞ΩΣ
Let him approach. His mother and his sisters
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can mediate, but why not just defeat him
and make him leave as he agreed to do?
Why should you alternate?’’
His rhetoric
once again swayed the army, just as when
the south wind in a tempest steals the sea
away from Boreas. Mad weapons pleased
once more; the fierce Erinys found occasion
to sow the causes of the first encounter.
–?–?–?–
Two tigers wandered by the river Dirce,
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a harmless team that Liber recently
freed in Aonian fields on his return
• from victory on Erythraean shores—
Bacchus, the devastator of the East.
They had forgotten blood; they wore the scent
of aromatic herbs from India.
The god’s retainers and an elder priest
adorned these tigers, following their custom,
with various fruits and flowers and mature
clusters of grapes: they wove their stripes with purple.
Who would believe it? Nearby heifers lowed,
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the hills and herds embraced them, and they threatened
no one; they fed from human hands when hungry
and turned rough faces up for wine that flowed.
Untouched they roamed; each house and temple glowed
with sacred flames, and they reached town in peace:
their followers believed Lyaeus entered.
Tisiphone restored their wildness
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by whipping them with vipers three times each.
The meadows did not recognize their speed:
as when two lightning bolts in di√erent zones
of heaven burst and trail their long hair down,
these tigers raced across the fields and seized
your charioteer, Amphiaraus! They leaped
∞ΩΠ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
together. Was it not an evil omen
that on this one occasion, and by chance,
the driver fell beside a hellish lake?
Next they seized Idas, a Taenarian,
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and Acamanteus the Aetolian
whose steeds raced through the fields until Aconteus—
a strong Arcadian hunter, chased
those tigers and flung darts. The wild beasts sought
the walls they trusted, but he thrust his spear
three times, withdrew, and then a fourth time pierced
their backs and necks. Stuck full of shafts, they trailed
blood to the city gates, half-dead, and leaned
their wounded bodies on the walls they loved.
Their groaning seemed like human lamentations.
You would have thought the city had been seized,
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that wicked flames burned Thebes, such clamor rose
when the gates opened. Tyrians would rather
have lost the marriage bed of Semele,
Hercules’ cradle, or Harmonia’s bower.
Phegeus, a follower of Bacchus, drew
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a weapon and approached unarmed Aconteus
as he was boasting of his double killing.
Other Tegean soldiers came too late
to save their comrade; his dead body covered
the tigers: mournful Bacchus was avenged.
The sudden tumult in the camp disrupted
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the Grecian council. Now Jocasta fled
past enemies in arms, no longer daring
to sue for peace, as those who’d been so welcoming
resented her two daughters and her presence.
Next Tydeus seized his opportunity:
‘‘This is the peace you hoped for and the faith!
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Could he have not delayed his crimes and waited
until his mother finished and returned?’’
That said, he called to friends and drew his sword.
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Rage heated either side, and all was chaos.
Men shouted out for war as leaders merged
BOOK π ∞Ωπ
with commoners; their orders were ignored.
Horsemen and rapid chariots and ranks
of infantry were intermixed, unsorted,
a pressing mob, and no one took the time
to show himself or know the enemy.
The Argives and the Thebans troops engaged
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in rapid-moving groups that raced before
ensuing horns and standards seeking war.
So great a battle from so little blood—
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as when a tempest gathers strength among
the clouds, it softly blows through leaves and treetops,
then soon takes forests and engulfs dark mountains.
–?–?–?–
Pierian sisters, we consult you now628
not on some distant matter, but the strife
you witnessed in your own Aonia.
The lyres of Helicon, so close to war,
echo the tumult of Tyrrhenian horns.
The steed of Pterelas of Sidon was
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untrustable in war and ran away,
crossing the field of foes. Its rider yanked
his racing horse’s reins till he was weary.
The spear of Tydeus hit him in the shoulder
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then hollowed his left hip and, as he fell—
no longer holding either reins or weapons—
it pinned him to the horse, which, joined to its
dead master, galloped—like a dying Centaur,
one that, still clinging to its double life,
falls back and lies recumbent on itself.
War started. Furious Hippomedon
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slew Sybaris; Menoeceus killed the Pylian
Periphas; Parthenopaeus slaughtered Itys:
a bloody sword felled Sybaris, a spear
dropped savage Periphas, an arrow Itys,
who never saw it; then bold Haemon cut
the throat of Argive Caeneos, whose open
&nb
sp; ∞Ω∫ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
eyes looked across the slit to find his trunk—
his vital spirit tried to find his head—
while Abas stripped the armor from his body
until, stopped by an Argive spear, he dropped
his own shield and the other’s as he died.
Eunaeus, who convinced you to abandon
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the cult of Bacchus? Priests are not allowed
to go outside his sacred grove. Why change
the madness Bromius inspires? Whom can
you terrify? The cover of your shield
is vulnerable and crowned with wreathes of pale
Nysaean ivy; your javelin is vine wood,
wound with white flounces; hair obscures your shoulders;
soft down is on your cheeks, and your unwarlike
corselet is woven through with Tyrian purple.
Bracelets bedeck your arms; your shoes are pinked;
you wear a linen tunic and your cloak—
Taenarian—is pinned by tawny jasper
set in a smooth, gold clasp; your slick-cased bow
is slung beside a gold-laced, lynx-hide quiver.
Eunaeus felt the fury of the god.
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He hurried toward opposing ranks and shouted:
‘‘Restrain your soldiers! Phoebus’s righteous omens
and the Cirrhaean heifer chose these walls.
Stones rolled here of their own accord, so spare them.
Our race is sacred; Jove is our son-in-law.
Our father-in-law is Mars. I do not lie:
Thebes was the home of Bacchus and Alcides!’’
Angered by their vain words came Capaneus
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to meet him with a long spear bound with bronze.
He’s like a lion in a cave who wakes
to first wrath in the morning; when he sees
a deer or hornless bull, he roars for joy;
intent upon his prey, he scorns the wounds
of hunters and their spears. So Capaneus
exalted that the conflict was unequal;
he set his heavy cypress spear to throw,
but first he said, ‘‘If you must die, why frighten
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BOOK π ∞ΩΩ
men with your feminine laments? Would that
Bacchus were here, for whom you act so madly!
Go howl at Tyrian women!’’ And with that
he threw his spear, which no force could impede.
It made Eunaeus’ shield ring, pierced his back;
his weapons fell; long sobs choked his gold throat;
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blood overflowed his breast. You dared, you died—
another favorite of Aonian Bacchus!
• The languid town of Ismara lamented
• and broke the thyrsi, as did Tmolos, Naxos
(the Thesean island), fertile Nysa, and
the Ganges, sworn (from fear) to Theban orgies.
The Argive army saw Eteocles
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unhesitant, but Polynices bristled
because he put Thebes’s citizens at risk.
Amphiaraus stirred up clouds of dust.
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Although his horses feared the meadows, and
the plains he churned disdained him, Phoebus lent
some empty glory to his follower
and mourned his coming downfall. He bestowed
a starlike splendor on his shield and helmet,
nor were you late, Gradivus, to command
that by no hand or mortal weapon would
the prophet fall in war; instead his corpse
would enter Dis inviolate and blessed.
The augur Amphiaraus drew
strength from the certainty of death, and fought;
his force increased; his limbs were magnified;
heaven seemed propitious; and he could have read
the stars as well as ever, given time.
His hand was strong, his burning soul exultant;
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he flamed with unrequited love for Mars,
and Death, who follows Valor, kept his distance.
Is this the one who rescued men from chance
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and took away the power of the Fates?
How di√erent, all at once, he was from when
he read the tripod and the sacred laurel
and knew what Phoebus’ birds in each cloud meant.
≤≠≠ STATIUS, THE THEBAID
Like a plague year or evil influence
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of some opposing star, he slew innumerable
victims to honor his impending ghost.
His javelins killed Phlegyas, proud Phyleus.
The scythed wheels of his chariot mowed down
Clonis and Chremetaon—one had stood
in front of him; one had his hamstrings cut.
His spear struck Chromis and Iphinous
and Sages and a man with long hair: Gyas.
He struck, unknowingly, Apollo’s priest
Lycorus—he had hurled his strong ash spear
before he saw the fillets in his hair.
He stoned Alcathous, a poor old man
• who lived by Lake Carystos with his wife.
His children loved its shores; he fished its waters.
Dry land deceived him. As he died, he praised
dangers he knew: north winds and storms at sea.
Asopian Hypseus had been watching this
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slaughter of stragglers for so long that he
burned to reverse its course, yet he had not
been ine√ective from his chariot
against Tirynthian forces. Then he saw
the seer. His soul and weapons longed to slay
that man, and he lost interest in his prey.
A dense wedge of the Argives blocked his way.
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He took a weapon from his father’s river,
but first said: ‘‘Asopos! O rich dispenser
of waters in Aonia, once famous
for the remains of giants. Grant my hand
strength for this task. It is your son who asks.
My spear grew on your shores. I’ll fight Apollo
as you once fought the father of the gods.
I’ll sink that prophet’s armor in your stream;
his sacred bands will mourn to lose their seer.’’
His father heard, but Phoebus barred his prayer
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and turned the blow against his driver, Herses,
who fell. The god himself assumed the reins
and took the form of Haliacmon of Lerna.
BOOK π ≤≠∞
No soldiers tried to block their hot pursuit.
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Everyone fled in terror, and a coward’s
death came to those who quailed but showed no wounds.
Whether the added weight increased or slowed
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