Delphi Complete Works of Quintus Smyrnaeus

by Quintus Smyrnaeus

  Lay, grand in death, by a God’s arrow slain,

  As Ares lay, when She of the Mighty Father

  With that huge stone down dashed him on Troy’s plain.

  Ceaselessly wailed the Myrmidons Achilles,

  A ring of mourners round the kingly dead, 490

  That kind heart, friend alike to each and all,

  To no man arrogant nor hard of mood,

  But ever tempering strength with courtesy.

  Then Aias first, deep-groaning, uttered forth

  His yearning o’er his father’s brother’s son

  God-stricken — ay, no man had smitten him

  Of all upon the wide-wayed earth that dwell!

  Him glorious Aias heavy-hearted mourned,

  Now wandering to the tent of Peleus’ son,

  Now cast down all his length, a giant form, 500

  On the sea-sands; and thus lamented he:

  “Achilles, shield and sword of Argive men,

  Thou hast died in Troy, from Phthia’s plains afar,

  Smitten unwares by that accursed shaft,

  Such thing as weakling dastards aim in fight!

  For none who trusts in wielding the great shield,

  None who for war can skill to set the helm

  Upon his brows, and sway the spear in grip,

  And cleave the brass about the breasts of foes,

  Warreth with arrows, shrinking from the fray. 510

  Not man to man he met thee, whoso smote;

  Else woundless never had he ‘scaped thy lance!

  But haply Zeus purposed to ruin all,

  And maketh all our toil and travail vain —

  Ay, now will grant the Trojans victory

  Who from Achaea now hath reft her shield!

  Ah me! how shall old Peleus in his halls

  Take up the burden of a mighty grief

  Now in his joyless age! His heart shall break

  At the mere rumour of it. Better so, 520

  Thus in a moment to forget all pain.

  But if these evil tidings slay him not,

  Ah, laden with sore sorrow eld shall come

  Upon him, eating out his heart with grief

  By a lone hearth Peleus so passing dear

  Once to the Blessed! But the Gods vouchsafe

  No perfect happiness to hapless men.”

  So he in grief lamented Peleus’ son.

  Then ancient Phoenix made heart-stricken moan,

  Clasping the noble form of Aeacus’ seed, 530

  And in wild anguish wailed the wise of heart:

  “Thou art reft from me, dear child, and cureless pain

  Hast left to me! Oh that upon my face

  The veiling earth had fallen, ere I saw

  Thy bitter doom! No pang more terrible

  Hath ever stabbed mine heart no, not that hour

  Of exile, when I fled from fatherland

  And noble parents, fleeing Hellas through,

  Till Peleus welcomed me with gifts, and lord

  Of his Dolopians made me. In his arms 540

  Thee through his halls one day he bare, and set

  Upon my knees, and bade me foster thee,

  His babe, with all love, as mine own dear child:

  I hearkened to him: blithely didst thou cling

  About mine heart, and, babbling wordless speech,

  Didst call me `father’ oft, and didst bedew

  My breast and tunic with thy baby lips.

  Ofttimes with soul that laughed for glee I held

  Thee in mine arms; for mine heart whispered me

  `This fosterling through life shall care for thee, 550

  Staff of thine age shall be.’ And that mine hope

  Was for a little while fulfilled; but now

  Thou hast vanished into darkness, and to me

  Is left long heart-ache wild with all regret.

  Ah, might my sorrow slay me, ere the tale

  To noble Peleus come! When on his ears

  Falleth the heavy tidings, he shall weep

  And wail without surcease. Most piteous grief

  We twain for thy sake shall inherit aye,

  Thy sire and I, who, ere our day of doom, 560

  Mourning shall go down to the grave for thee —

  Ay, better this than life unholpen of thee!”

  So moaned his ever-swelling tide of grief.

  And Atreus’ son beside him mourned and wept

  With heart on fire with inly smouldering pain:

  “Thou hast perished, chiefest of the Danaan men,

  Hast perished, and hast left the Achaean host

  Fenceless! Now thou art fallen, are they left

  An easier prey to foes. Thou hast given joy

  To Trojans by thy fall, who dreaded thee 570

  As sheep a lion. These with eager hearts

  Even to the ships will bring the battle now.

  Zeus, Father, thou too with deceitful words

  Beguilest mortals! Thou didst promise me

  That Priam’s burg should be destroyed; but now

  That promise given dost thou not fulfil,

  But thou didst cheat mine heart: I shall not win

  The war’s goal, now Achilles is no more.”

  So did he cry heart-anguished. Mourned all round

  Wails multitudinous for Peleus’ son: 580

  The dark ships echoed back the voice of grief,

  And sighed and sobbed the immeasurable air.

  And as when long sea-rollers, onward driven

  By a great wind, heave up far out at sea,

  And strandward sweep with terrible rush, and aye

  Headland and beach with shattered spray are scourged,

  And roar unceasing; so a dread sound rose

  Of moaning of the Danaans round the corse,

  Ceaselessly wailing Peleus’ aweless son.

  And on their mourning soon black night had come, 590

  But spake unto Atreides Neleus’ son,

  Nestor, whose own heart bare its load of grief

  Remembering his own son Antilochus:

  “O mighty Agamemnon, sceptre-lord

  Of Argives, from wide-shrilling lamentation

  Refrain we for this day. None shall withhold

  Hereafter these from all their heart’s desire

  Of weeping and lamenting many days.

  But now go to, from aweless Aeacus’ son

  Wash we the foul blood-gouts, and lay we him 600

  Upon a couch: unseemly it is to shame

  The dead by leaving them untended long.”

  So counselled Neleus’ son, the passing-wise.

  Then hasted he his men, and bade them set

  Caldrons of cold spring-water o’er the flames,

  And wash the corse, and clothe in vesture fair,

  Sea-purple, which his mother gave her son

  At his first sailing against Troy. With speed

  They did their lord’s command: with loving care,

  All service meetly rendered, on a couch 610

  Laid they the mighty fallen, Peleus’ son.

  The Trito-born, the passing-wise, beheld

  And pitied him, and showered upon his head

  Ambrosia, which hath virtue aye to keep

  Taintless, men say, the flesh of warriors slain.

  Like softly-breathing sleeper dewy-fresh

  She made him: over that dead face she drew

  A stern frown, even as when he lay, with wrath

  Darkening his grim face, clasping his slain friend

  Patroclus; and she made his frame to be 620

  More massive, like a war-god to behold.

  And wonder seized the Argives, as they thronged

  And saw the image of a living man,

  Where all the stately length of Peleus’ son

  Lay on the couch, and seemed as though he slept.

  Around him all the woeful captive-maids,

  Whom he had taken for a prey, what tim
e

  He had ravaged hallowed Lemnos, and had scaled

  The towered crags of Thebes, Eetion’s town,

  Wailed, as they stood and rent their fair young flesh, 630

  And smote their breasts, and from their hearts bemoaned

  That lord of gentleness and courtesy,

  Who honoured even the daughters of his foes.

  And stricken most of all with heart-sick pain

  Briseis, hero Achilles’ couchmate, bowed

  Over the dead, and tore her fair young flesh

  With ruthless fingers, shrieking: her soft breast

  Was ridged with gory weals, so cruelly

  She smote it thou hadst said that crimson blood

  Had dripped on milk. Yet, in her griefs despite, 640

  Her winsome loveliness shone out, and grace

  Hung like a veil about her, as she wailed:

  “Woe for this grief passing all griefs beside!

  Never on me came anguish like to this

  Not when my brethren died, my fatherland

  Was wasted — like this anguish for thy death!

  Thou wast my day, my sunlight, my sweet life,

  Mine hope of good, my strong defence from harm,

  Dearer than all my beauty — yea, more dear

  Than my lost parents! Thou wast all in all 650

  To me, thou only, captive though I be.

  Thou tookest from me every bondmaid’s task

  And like a wife didst hold me. Ah, but now

  Me shall some new Achaean master bear

  To fertile Sparta, or to thirsty Argos.

  The bitter cup of thraldom shall I drain,

  Severed, ah me, from thee! Oh that the earth

  Had veiled my dead face ere I saw thy doom!”

  So for slain Peleus’ son did she lament

  With woeful handmaids and heart-anguished Greeks, 660

  Mourning a king, a husband. Never dried

  Her tears were: ever to the earth they streamed

  Like sunless water trickling from a rock

  While rime and snow yet mantle o’er the earth

  Above it; yet the frost melts down before

  The east-wind and the flame-shafts of the sun.

  Now came the sound of that upringing wail

  To Nereus’ Daughters, dwellers in the depths

  Unfathomed. With sore anguish all their hearts

  Were smitten: piteously they moaned: their cry 670

  Shivered along the waves of Hellespont.

  Then with dark mantles overpalled they sped

  Swiftly to where the Argive men were thronged.

  As rushed their troop up silver paths of sea,

  The flood disported round them as they came.

  With one wild cry they floated up; it rang,

  A sound as when fleet-flying cranes forebode

  A great storm. Moaned the monsters of the deep

  Plaintively round that train of mourners. Fast

  On sped they to their goal, with awesome cry 680

  Wailing the while their sister’s mighty son.

  Swiftly from Helicon the Muses came

  Heart-burdened with undying grief, for love

  And honour to the Nereid starry-eyed.

  Then Zeus with courage filled the Argive men,

  That-eyes of flesh might undismayed behold

  That glorious gathering of Goddesses.

  Then those Divine Ones round Achilles’ corse

  Pealed forth with one voice from immortal lips

  A lamentation. Rang again the shores 690

  Of Hellespont. As rain upon the earth

  Their tears fell round the dead man, Aeacus’ son;

  For out of depths of sorrow rose their moan.

  And all the armour, yea, the tents, the ships

  Of that great sorrowing multitude were wet

  With tears from ever-welling springs of grief.

  His mother cast her on him, clasping him,

  And kissed her son’s lips, crying through her tears:

  “Now let the rosy-vestured Dawn in heaven

  Exult! Now let broad-flowing Axius 700

  Exult, and for Asteropaeus dead

  Put by his wrath! Let Priam’s seed be glad

  But I unto Olympus will ascend,

  And at the feet of everlasting Zeus

  Will cast me, bitterly planning that he gave

  Me, an unwilling bride, unto a man —

  A man whom joyless eld soon overtook,

  To whom the Fates are near, with death for gift.

  Yet not so much for his lot do I grieve

  As for Achilles; for Zeus promised me 710

  To make him glorious in the Aeacid halls,

  In recompense for the bridal I so loathed

  That into wild wind now I changed me, now

  To water, now in fashion as a bird

  I was, now as the blast of flame; nor might

  A mortal win me for his bride, who seemed

  All shapes in turn that earth and heaven contain,

  Until the Olympian pledged him to bestow

  A godlike son on me, a lord of war.

  Yea, in a manner this did he fulfil 720

  Faithfully; for my son was mightiest

  Of men. But Zeus made brief his span of life

  Unto my sorrow. Therefore up to heaven

  Will I: to Zeus’s mansion will I go

  And wail my son, and will put Zeus in mind

  Of all my travail for him and his sons

  In their sore stress, and sting his soul with shame.”

  So in her wild lament the Sea-queen cried.

  But now to Thetis spake Calliope,

  She in whose heart was steadfast wisdom throned: 730

  “From lamentation, Thetis, now forbear,

  And do not, in the frenzy of thy grief

  For thy lost son, provoke to wrath the Lord

  Of Gods and men. Lo, even sons of Zeus,

  The Thunder-king, have perished, overborne

  By evil fate. Immortal though I be,

  Mine own son Orpheus died, whose magic song

  Drew all the forest-trees to follow him,

  And every craggy rock and river-stream,

  And blasts of winds shrill-piping stormy-breathed, 740

  And birds that dart through air on rushing wings.

  Yet I endured mine heavy sorrow: Gods

  Ought not with anguished grief to vex their souls.

  Therefore make end of sorrow-stricken wail

  For thy brave child; for to the sons of earth

  Minstrels shall chant his glory and his might,

  By mine and by my sisters’ inspiration,

  Unto the end of time. Let not thy soul

  Be crushed by dark grief, nor do thou lament

  Like those frail mortal women. Know’st thou not 750

  That round all men which dwell upon the earth

  Hovereth irresistible deadly Fate,

  Who recks not even of the Gods? Such power

  She only hath for heritage. Yea, she

  Soon shall destroy gold-wealthy Priam’s town,

  And Trojans many and Argives doom to death,

  Whomso she will. No God can stay her hand.”

  So in her wisdom spake Calliope.

  Then plunged the sun down into Ocean’s stream,

  And sable-vestured Night came floating up 760

  O’er the wide firmament, and brought her boon

  Of sleep to sorrowing mortals. On the sands

  There slept they, all the Achaean host, with heads

  Bowed ‘neath the burden of calamity.

  But upon Thetis sleep laid not his hand:

  Still with the deathless Nereids by the sea

  She sate; on either side the Muses spake

  One after other comfortable words

  To make that sorrowing heart forget its pain.

  But when with a triumphant laugh the Dawn 770

 
Soared up the sky, and her most radiant light

  Shed over all the Trojans and their king,

  Then, sorrowing sorely for Achilles still,

  The Danaans woke to weep. Day after day,

  For many days they wept. Around them moaned

  Far-stretching beaches of the sea, and mourned

  Great Nereus for his daughter Thetis’ sake;

  And mourned with him the other Sea-gods all

  For dead Achilles. Then the Argives gave

  The corpse of great Peleides to the flame. 780

  A pyre of countless tree-trunks built they up

  Which, all with one mind toiling, from the heights

  Of Ida they brought down; for Atreus’ sons

  Sped on the work, and charged them to bring thence

  Wood without measure, that consumed with speed

  Might be Achilles’ body. All around

  Piled they about the pyre much battle-gear

  Of strong men slain; and slew and cast thereon

  Full many goodly sons of Trojan men,

  And snorting steeds, and mighty bulls withal, 790

  And sheep and fatling swine thereon they cast.

  And wailing captive maids from coffers brought

  Mantles untold; all cast they on the pyre:

  Gold heaped they there and amber. All their hair

  The Myrmidons shore, and shrouded with the same

  The body of their king. Briseis laid

  Her own shorn tresses on the corpse, her gift,

  Her last, unto her lord. Great jars of oil

  Full many poured they out thereon, with jars

  Of honey and of wine, rich blood of the grape 800

  That breathed an odour as of nectar, yea,

  Cast incense-breathing perfumes manifold

  Marvellous sweet, the precious things put forth

  By earth, and treasures of the sea divine.

  Then, when all things were set in readiness

  About the pyre, all, footmen, charioteers,

  Compassed that woeful bale, clashing their arms,

  While, from the viewless heights Olympian, Zeus

  Rained down ambrosia on dead Aeacus’ son.

  For honour to the Goddess, Nereus’ child, 810

  He sent to Aeolus Hermes, bidding him

  Summon the sacred might of his swift winds,

  For that the corpse of Aeacus’ son must now

  Be burned. With speed he went, and Aeolus

  Refused not: the tempestuous North in haste

  He summoned, and the wild blast of the West;

  And to Troy sped they on their whirlwind wings.

  Fast in mad onrush, fast across the deep

  They darted; roared beneath them as they flew