The holy, overspread the face of earth,
Then in the rich king Agamemnon’s tent
Feasted the might of Peleus’ son, and there
Sat at the feast those other mighty ones
All through the dark, till rose the dawn divine.
BOOK II. HOW MEMNON, SON OF THE DAWN, FOR TROY’S SAKE FELL IN THE BATTLE.
When o’er the crests of the far-echoing hills
The splendour of the tireless-racing sun
Poured o’er the land, still in their tents rejoiced
Achaea’s stalwart sons, and still acclaimed
Achilles the resistless. But in Troy
Still mourned her people, still from all her towers
Seaward they strained their gaze; for one great fear
Gripped all their hearts — to see that terrible man
At one bound overleap their high-built wall,
Then smite with the sword all people therewithin, 10
And burn with fire fanes, palaces, and homes.
And old Thymoetes spake to the anguished ones:
“Friends, I have lost hope: mine heart seeth not
Or help, or bulwark from the storm of war,
Now that the aweless Hector, who was once
Troy’s mighty champion, is in dust laid low.
Not all his might availed to escape the Fates,
But overborne he was by Achilles’ hands,
The hands that would, I verily deem, bear down
A God, if he defied him to the fight, 20
Even as he overthrew this warrior-queen
Penthesileia battle-revelling,
From whom all other Argives shrank in fear.
Ah, she was marvellous! When at the first
I looked on her, meseemed a Blessed One
From heaven had come down hitherward to bring
Light to our darkness — ah, vain hope, vain dream!
Go to, let us take counsel, what to do
Were best for us. Or shall we still maintain
A hopeless fight against these ruthless foes, 30
Or shall we straightway flee a city doomed?
Ay, doomed! — for never more may we withstand
Argives in fighting field, when in the front
Of battle pitiless Achilles storms.”
Then spake Laomedon’s son, the ancient king:
“Nay, friend, and all ye other sons of Troy,
And ye our strong war-helpers, flinch we not
Faint-hearted from defence of fatherland!
Yet let us go not forth the city-gates
To battle with yon foe. Nay, from our towers 40
And from our ramparts let us make defence,
Till our new champion come, the stormy heart
Of Memnon. Lo, he cometh, leading on
Hosts numberless, Aethiopia’s swarthy sons.
By this, I trow, he is nigh unto our gates;
For long ago, in sore distress of soul,
I sent him urgent summons. Yea, and he
Promised me, gladly promised me, to come
To Troy, and make all end of all our woes.
And now, I trust, he is nigh. Let us endure 50
A little longer then; for better far
It is like brave men in the fight to die
Than flee, and live in shame mid alien fo1k.”
So spake the old king; but Polydamas,
The prudent-hearted, thought not good to war
Thus endlessly, and spake his patriot rede:
“If Memnon have beyond all shadow of doubt
Pledged him to thrust dire ruin far from us,
Then do I gainsay not that we await
The coming of that godlike man within 60
Our walls — yet, ah, mine heart misgives me, lest,
Though he with all his warriors come, he come
But to his death, and unto thousands more,
Our people, nought but misery come thereof;
For terribly against us leaps the storm
Of the Achaeans’ might. But now, go to,
Let us not flee afar from this our Troy
To wander to some alien land, and there,
In the exile’s pitiful helplessness, endure
All flouts and outrage; nor in our own land 70
Abide we till the storm of Argive war
O’erwhelm us. Nay, even now, late though it be,
Better it were for us to render back
Unto the Danaans Helen and her wealth,
Even all that glory of women brought with her
From Sparta, and add other treasure — yea,
Repay it twofold, so to save our Troy
And our own souls, while yet the spoiler’s hand
Is laid not on our substance, and while yet
Troy hath not sunk in gulfs of ravening flame. 80
I pray you, take to heart my counsel! None
Shall, well I wot, be given to Trojan men
Better than this. Ah, would that long ago
Hector had hearkened to my pleading, when
I fain had kept him in the ancient home!”
So spake Polydamas the noble and strong,
And all the listening Trojans in their hearts
Approved; yet none dared utter openly
The word, for all with trembling held in awe
Their prince and Helen, though for her sole sake 90
Daily they died. But on that noble man
Turned Paris, and reviled him to his face:
“Thou dastard battle-blencher Polydamas!
Not in thy craven bosom beats a heart
That bides the fight, but only fear and panic.
Yet dost thou vaunt thee — quotha! — still our best
In counsel! — no man’s soul is base as thine!
Go to, thyself shrink shivering from the strife!
Cower, coward, in thine halls! But all the rest,
We men, will still go armour-girt, until 100
We wrest from this our truceless war a peace
That shall not shame us! ’Tis with travail and toil
Of strenuous war that brave men win renown;
But flight? — weak women choose it, and young babes!
Thy spirit is like to theirs. No whit I trust
Thee in the day of battle — thee, the man
Who maketh faint the hearts of all the host!”
So fiercely he reviled: Polydamas
Wrathfully answered; for he shrank not, he,
From answering to his face. A caitiff hound, 110
A reptile fool, is he who fawns on men
Before their faces, while his heart is black
With malice, and, when they be gone, his tongue
Backbites them. Openly Polydamas
Flung back upon the prince his taunt and scoff:
“O thou of living men most mischievous!
Thy valour — quotha! — brings us misery!
Thine heart endures, and will endure, that strife
Should have no limit, save in utter ruin
Of fatherland and people for thy sake! 120
Ne’er may such wantwit valour craze my soul!
Be mine to cherish wise discretion aye,
A warder that shall keep mine house in peace.”
Indignantly he spake, and Paris found
No word to answer him, for conscience woke
Remembrance of all woes he had brought on Troy,
And should bring; for his passion-fevered heart
Would rather hail quick death than severance
From Helen the divinely fair, although
For her sake was it that the sons of Troy 130
Even then were gazing from their towers to see
The Argives and Achilles drawing nigh.
But no long time thereafter came to them
Memnon the warrior-king, and brought with him
A countless host of swarthy Aethiops.
From all the streets of Troy
the Trojans flocked
Glad-eyed to gaze on him, as seafarers,
With ruining tempest utterly forspent,
See through wide-parting clouds the radiance
Of the eternal-wheeling Northern Wain; 140
So joyed the Troyfolk as they thronged around,
And more than all Laomedon’s son, for now
Leapt in his heart a hope, that yet the ships
Might by those Aethiop men be burned with fire;
So giantlike their king was, and themselves
So huge a host, and so athirst for fight.
Therefore with all observance welcomed he
The strong son of the Lady of the Dawn
With goodly gifts and with abundant cheer.
So at the banquet King and Hero sat 150
And talked, this telling of the Danaan chiefs,
And all the woes himself had suffered, that
Telling of that strange immortality
By the Dawn-goddess given to his sire,
Telling of the unending flow and ebb
Of the Sea-mother, of the sacred flood
Of Ocean fathomless-rolling, of the bounds
Of Earth that wearieth never of her travail,
Of where the Sun-steeds leap from orient waves,
Telling withal of all his wayfaring 160
From Ocean’s verge to Priam’s wall, and spurs
Of Ida. Yea, he told how his strong hands
Smote the great army of the Solymi
Who barred his way, whose deed presumptuous brought
Upon their own heads crushing ruin and woe.
So told he all that marvellous tale, and told
Of countless tribes and nations seen of him.
And Priam heard, and ever glowed his heart
Within him; and the old lips answering spake:
“Memnon, the Gods are good, who have vouchsafed 170
To me to look upon thine host, and thee
Here in mine halls. O that their grace would so
Crown this their boon, that I might see my foes
All thrust to one destruction by thy spears.
That well may be, for marvellous-like art thou
To some invincible Deathless One, yea, more
Than any earthly hero. Wherefore thou,
I trust, shalt hurl wild havoc through their host.
But now, I pray thee, for this day do thou
Cheer at my feast thine heart, and with the morn 180
Shalt thou go forth to battle worthy of thee.”
Then in his hands a chalice deep and wide
He raised, and Memnon in all love he pledged
In that huge golden cup, a gift of Gods;
For this the cunning God-smith brought to Zeus,
His masterpiece, what time the Mighty in Power
To Hephaestus gave for bride the Cyprian Queen;
And Zeus on Dardanus his godlike son
Bestowed it, he on Erichthonius;
Erichthonius to Tros the great of heart 190
Gave it, and he with all his treasure-store
Bequeathed it unto Ilus, and he gave
That wonder to Laomedon, and he
To Priam, who had thought to leave the same
To his own son. Fate ordered otherwise.
And Memnon clasped his hands about that cup
So peerless-beautiful, and all his heart
Marvelled; and thus he spake unto the King:
“Beseems not with great swelling words to vaunt
Amidst the feast, and lavish promises, 200
But rather quietly to eat in hall,
And to devise deeds worthy. Whether I
Be brave and strong, or whether I be not,
Battle, wherein a man’s true might is seen,
Shall prove to thee. Now would I rest, nor drink
The long night through. The battle-eager spirit
By measureless wine and lack of sleep is dulled.”
Marvelled at him the old King, and he said:
“As seems thee good touching the banquet, do
After thy pleasure. I, when thou art loth, 210
Will not constrain thee. Yea, unmeet it is
To hold back him who fain would leave the board,
Or hurry from one’s halls who fain would stay.
So is the good old law with all true men.”
Then rose that champion from the board, and passed
Thence to his sleep — his last! And with him went
All others from the banquet to their rest:
And gentle sleep slid down upon them soon.
But in the halls of Zeus, the Lightning-lord,
Feasted the gods the while, and Cronos’ son, 220
All-father, of his deep foreknowledge spake
Amidst them of the issue of the strife:
“Be it known unto you all, to-morn shall bring
By yonder war affliction swift and sore;
For many mighty horses shall ye see
In either host beside their chariots slain,
And many heroes perishing. Therefore ye
Remember these my words, howe’er ye grieve
For dear ones. Let none clasp my knees in prayer,
Since even to us relentless are the fates.” 230
So warned he them, which knew before, that all
Should from the battle stand aside, howe’er
Heart-wrung; that none, petitioning for a son
Or dear one, should to Olympus vainly come.
So, at that warning of the Thunderer,
The Son of Cronos, all they steeled their hearts
To bear, and spake no word against their king;
For in exceeding awe they stood of him.
Yet to their several mansions and their rest
With sore hearts went they. O’er their deathless eyes 240
The blessing-bringer Sleep his light veils spread.
When o’er precipitous crests of mountain-walls
Leapt up broad heaven the bright morning-star
Who rouseth to their toils from slumber sweet
The binders of the sheaf, then his last sleep
Unclasped the warrior-son of her who brings
Light to the world, the Child of Mists of Night.
Now swelled his mighty heart with eagerness
To battle with the foe forthright. And Dawn
With most reluctant feet began to climb 250
Heaven’s broad highway. Then did the Trojans gird
Their battle-harness on; then armed themselves
The Aethiop men, and all the mingled tribes
Of those war-helpers that from many lands
To Priam’s aid were gathered. Forth the gates
Swiftly they rushed, like darkly lowering clouds
Which Cronos’ Son, when storm is rolling up,
Herdeth together through the welkin wide.
Swiftly the whole plain filled. Onward they streamed
Like harvest-ravaging locusts drifting on 260
In fashion of heavy-brooding rain-clouds o’er
Wide plains of earth, an irresistible host
Bringing wan famine on the sons of men;
So in their might and multitude they went.
The city streets were all too strait for them
Marching: upsoared the dust from underfoot.
From far the Argives gazed, and marvelling saw
Their onrush, but with speed arrayed their limbs
In brass, and in the might of Peleus’ son
Put their glad trust. Amidst them rode he on 270
Like to a giant Titan, glorying
In steeds and chariot, while his armour flashed
Splendour around in sudden lightning-gleams.
It was as when the sun from utmost bounds
Of earth-encompassing ocean comes, and brings
Light to the world, and flings his splendour wide
Through heaven, and earth and air laugh all
around.
So glorious, mid the Argives Peleus’ son
Rode onward. Mid the Trojans rode the while
Memnon the hero, even such to see 280
As Ares furious-hearted. Onward swept
The eager host arrayed about their lord.
Then in the grapple of war on either side
Closed the long lines, Trojan and Danaan;
But chief in prowess still the Aethiops were.
Crashed they together as when surges meet
On the wild sea, when, in a day of storm,
From every quarter winds to battle rush.
Foe hurled at foe the ashen spear, and slew:
Screams and death-groans went up like roaring fire. 290
As when down-thundering torrents shout and rave
On-pouring seaward, when the madding rains
Stream from God’s cisterns, when the huddling clouds
Are hurled against each other ceaselessly,
And leaps their fiery breath in flashes forth;
So ‘neath the fighters’ trampling feet the earth
Thundered, and leapt the terrible battle-yell
Through frenzied air, for mad the war-cries were.
For firstfruits of death’s harvest Peleus’ son
Slew Thalius and Mentes nobly born, 300
Men of renown, and many a head beside
Dashed he to dust. As in its furious swoop
A whirlwind shakes dark chasms underground,
And earth’s foundations crumble and melt away
Around the deep roots of the shuddering world,
So the ranks crumbled in swift doom to the dust
Before the spear and fury of Peleus’s son.
But on the other side the hero child
Of the Dawn-goddess slew the Argive men,
Like to a baleful Doom which bringeth down 310
On men a grim and ghastly pestilence.
First slew he Pheron; for the bitter spear
Plunged through his breast, and down on him he hurled
Goodly Ereuthus, battle-revellers both,
Dwellers in Thryus by Alpheus’ streams,
Which followed Nestor to the god-built burg
Of Ilium. But when he had laid these low,
Against the son of Neleus pressed he on
Eager to slay. Godlike Antilochus
Strode forth to meet him, sped the long spear’s flight, 320
Yet missed him, for a little he swerved, but slew
His Aethiop comrade, son of Pyrrhasus.
Wroth for his fall, against Antilochus
He leapt, as leaps a lion mad of mood
Delphi Complete Works of Quintus Smyrnaeus Page 5
