Naught heard he of her moans unutterable,
But was afar, fast striding to the ship.
He seemed, as his feet swiftly bare him on,
Like some all-radiant star; and at his side
With Tydeus’ son war-wise Odysseus went,
And with them twenty gallant-hearted men,
Whom Deidameia chose as trustiest
Of all her household, and unto her son 390
Gave them for henchmen swift to do his will.
And these attended Achilles’ valiant son,
As through the city to the ship he sped.
On, with glad laughter, in their midst he strode;
And Thetis and the Nereids joyed thereat.
Yea, glad was even the Raven-haired, the Lord
Of all the sea, beholding that brave son
Of princely Achilles, marking how he longed
For battle. Beardless boy albeit he was,
His prowess and his might were inward spurs 400
To him. He hasted forth his fatherland
Like to the War-god, when to gory strife
He speedeth, wroth with foes, when maddeneth
His heart, and grim his frown is, and his eyes
Flash levin-flame around him, and his face
Is clothed with glory of beauty terror-blent,
As on he rusheth: quail the very Gods.
So seemed Achilles’ goodly son; and prayers
Went up through all the city unto Heaven
To bring their noble prince safe back from war; 410
And the Gods hearkened to them. High he towered
Above all stateliest men which followed him.
So came they to the heavy-plunging sea,
And found the rowers in the smooth-wrought ship
Handling the tackle, fixing mast and sail.
Straightway they went aboard: the shipmen cast
The hawsers loose, and heaved the anchor-stones,
The strength and stay of ships in time of need.
Then did the Sea-queen’s lord grant voyage fair
To these with gracious mind; for his heart yearned 420
O’er the Achaeans, by the Trojan men
And mighty-souled Eurypylus hard-bestead.
On either side of Neoptolemus sat
Those heroes, gladdening his soul with tales
Of his sire’s mighty deeds — of all he wrought
In sea-raids, and in valiant Telephus’ land,
And how he smote round Priam’s burg the men
Of Troy, for glory unto Atreus’ sons.
His heart glowed, fain to grasp his heritage,
His aweless father’s honour and renown. 430
In her bower, sorrowing for her son the while,
Deidameia poured forth sighs and tears.
With agony of soul her very heart
Melted in her, as over coals doth lead
Or wax, and never did her moaning cease,
As o’er the wide sea her gaze followed him.
Ay, for her son a mother fretteth still,
Though it be to a feast that he hath gone,
By a friend bidden forth. But soon the sail
Of that good ship far-fleeting o’er the blue 440
Grew faint and fainter — melted in sea-haze.
But still she sighed, still daylong made her moan.
On ran the ship before a following wind,
Seeming to skim the myriad-surging sea,
And crashed the dark wave either side the prow:
Swiftly across the abyss unplumbed she sped.
Night’s darkness fell about her, but the breeze
Held, and the steersman’s hand was sure. O’er gulfs
Of brine she flew, till Dawn divine rose up
To climb the sky. Then sighted they the peaks 450
Of Ida, Chrysa next, and Smintheus’ fane,
Then the Sigean strand, and then the tomb
Of Aeacus’ son. Yet would Laertes’ seed,
The man discreet of soul, not point it out
To Neoptolemus, lest the tide of grief
Too high should swell within his breast. They passed
Calydnae’s isles, left Tenedos behind;
And now was seen the fane of Eleus,
Where stands Protesilaus’ tomb, beneath
The shade of towcry elms; when, soaring high 460
Above the plain, their topmost boughs discern
Troy, straightway wither all their highest sprays.
Nigh Ilium now the ship by wind and oar
Was brought: they saw the long strand fringed with keels
Of Argives, who endured sore travail of war
Even then about the wall, the which themselves
Had reared to screen the ships and men in stress
Of battle. Even now Eurypylus’ hands
To earth were like to dash it and destroy;
But the quick eyes of Tydeus’ strong son marked 470
How rained the darts and stones on that long wall.
Forth of the ship he sprang, and shouted loud
With all the strength of his undaunted breast:
“Friends, on the Argive men is heaped this day
Sore travail! Let us don our flashing arms
With speed, and to yon battle-turmoil haste.
For now upon our towers the warrior sons
Of Troy press hard — yea, haply will they tear
The long walls down, and burn the ships with fire,
And so the souls that long for home-return 480
Shall win it never; nay, ourselves shall fall
Before our due time, and shall lie in graves
In Troyland, far from children and from wives.”
All as one man down from the ship they leapt;
For trembling seized on all for that grim sight —
On all save aweless Neoptolemus
Whose might was like his father’s: lust of war
Swept o’er him. To Odysseus’ tent in haste
They sped, for close it lay to where the ship
Touched land. About its walls was hung great store 490
Of change of armour, of wise Odysseus some,
And rescued some from gallant comrades slain.
Then did the brave man put on goodly arms;
But they in whose breasts faintlier beat their hearts
Must don the worser. Odysseus stood arrayed
In those which came with him from Ithaca:
To Diomede he gave fair battle-gear
Stripped in time past from mighty Socus slain.
But in his father’s arms Achilles’ son
Clad him and lo, he seemed Achilles’ self! 500
Light on his limbs and lapping close they lay —
So cunning was Hephaestus’ workmanship —
Which for another had been a giant’s arms.
The massive helmet cumbered not his brows;
Yea, the great Pelian spear-shaft burdened not
His hand, but lightly swung he up on high
The heavy and tall lance thirsting still for blood.
Of many Argives which beheld him then
Might none draw nigh to him, how fain soe’er,
So fast were they in that grim grapple locked 510
Of the wild war that raged all down the wall.
But as when shipmen, under a desolate isle
Mid the wide sea by stress of weather bound,
Chafe, while afar from men the adverse blasts
Prison them many a day; they pace the deck
With sinking hearts, while scantier grows their store
Of food; they weary till a fair wind sings;
So joyed the Achaean host, which theretofore
Were heavy of heart, when Neoptolemus came,
Joyed in the hope of breathing-space from toil. 520
Then like the aweless lion’s flashed his eyes,
Which mid the mountains leaps in furious mood
To meet the hunters that draw nigh his cave,
Thinking to steal his cubs, there left alone
In a dark-shadowed glen but from a height
The beast hath spied, and on the spoilers leaps
With grim jaws terribly roaring; even so
That glorious child of Aeacus’ aweless son
Against the Trojan warriors burned in wrath.
Thither his eagle-swoop descended first 530
Where loudest from the plain uproared the fight,
There weakest, he divined, must be the wall,
The battlements lowest, since the surge of foes
Brake heaviest there. Charged at his side the rest
Breathing the battle-spirit. There they found
Eurypylus mighty of heart and all his men
Scaling a tower, exultant in the hope
Of tearing down the walls, of slaughtering
The Argives in one holocaust. No mind
The Gods had to accomplish their desire! 540
But now Odysseus, Diomede the strong,
Leonteus, and Neoptolemus, as a God
In strength and beauty, hailed their javelins down,
And thrust them from the wall. As dogs and shepherds
By shouting and hard fighting drive away
Strong lions from a steading, rushing forth
From all sides, and the brutes with glaring eyes
Pace to and fro; with savage lust for blood
Of calves and kine their jaws are slavering;
Yet must their onrush give back from the hounds 550
And fearless onset of the shepherd folk;
[So from these new defenders shrank the foe]
A little, far as one may hurl a stone
Exceeding great; for still Eurypylus
Suffered them not to flee far from the ships,
But cheered them on to bide the brunt, until
The ships be won, and all the Argives slain;
For Zeus with measureless might thrilled all his frame.
Then seized he a rugged stone and huge, and leapt
And hurled it full against the high-built wall. 560
It crashed, and terribly boomed that rampart steep
To its foundations. Terror gripped the Greeks,
As though that wall had crumbled down in dust;
Yet from the deadly conflict flinched they not,
But stood fast, like to jackals or to wolves
Bold robbers of the sheep — when mid the hills
Hunter and hound would drive them forth their caves,
Being grimly purposed there to slay their whelps.
Yet these, albeit tormented by the darts,
Flee not, but for their cubs’ sake bide and fight; 570
So for the ships’ sake they abode and fought,
And for their own lives. But Eurypylus
Afront of all the ships stood, taunting them:
“Coward and dastard souls! no darts of yours
Had given me pause, nor thrust back from your ships,
Had not your rampart stayed mine onset-rush.
Ye are like to dogs, that in a forest flinch
Before a lion! Skulking therewithin
Ye are fighting — nay, are shrinking back from death!
But if ye dare come forth on Trojan ground, 580
As once when ye were eager for the fray,
None shall from ghastly death deliver you:
Slain by mine hand ye all shall lie in dust!”
So did he shout a prophecy unfulfilled,
Nor heard Doom’s chariot-wheels fast rolling near
Bearing swift death at Neoptolemus’ hands,
Nor saw death gleaming from his glittering spear.
Ay, and that hero paused not now from fight,
But from the ramparts smote the Trojans aye.
From that death leaping from above they quailed 590
In tumult round Eurypylus: deadly fear
Gripped all their hearts. As little children cower
About a father’s knees when thunder of Zeus
Crashes from cloud to cloud, when all the air
Shudders and groans, so did the sons of Troy,
With those Ceteians round their great king, cower
Ever as prince Neoptolemus hurled; for death
Rode upon all he cast, and bare his wrath
Straight rushing down upon the heads of foes.
Now in their hearts those wildered Trojans said 600
That once more they beheld Achilles’ self
Gigantic in his armour. Yet they hid
That horror in their breasts, lest panic fear
Should pass from them to the Ceteian host
And king Eurypylus; so on every side
They wavered ‘twixt the stress of their hard strait
And that blood-curdling dread, ‘twixt shame and fear.
As when men treading a precipitous path
Look up, and see adown the mountain-slope
A torrent rushing on them, thundering down 610
The rocks, and dare not meet its clamorous flood,
But hurry shuddering on, with death in sight
Holding as naught the perils of the path;
So stayed the Trojans, spite of their desire
[To flee the imminent death that waited them]
Beneath the wall. Godlike Eurypylus
Aye cheered them on to fight. He trusted still
That this new mighty foe would weary at last
With toil of slaughter; but he wearied not.
That desperate battle-travail Pallas saw, 620
And left the halls of Heaven incense-sweet,
And flew o’er mountain-crests: her hurrying feet
Touched not the earth, borne by the air divine
In form of cloud-wreaths, swifter than the wind.
She came to Troy, she stayed her feet upon
Sigeum’s windy ness, she looked forth thence
Over the ringing battle of dauntless men,
And gave the Achaeans glory. Achilles’ son
Beyond the rest was filled with valour and strength
Which win renown for men in whom they meet. 630
Peerless was he in both: the blood of Zeus
Gave strength; to his father’s valour was he heir;
So by those towers he smote down many a foe.
And as a fisher on the darkling sea,
To lure the fish to their destruction, takes
Within his boat the strength of fire; his breath
Kindles it to a flame, till round the boat
Glareth its splendour, and from the black sea
Dart up the fish all eager to behold
The radiance — for the last time; for the barbs 640
Of his three-pointed spear, as up they leap,
Slay them; his heart rejoices o’er the prey.
So that war-king Achilles’ glorious son
Slew hosts of onward-rushing foes around
That wall of stone. Well fought the Achaeans all,
Here, there, adown the ramparts: rang again
The wide strand and the ships: the battered walls
Groaned ever. Men with weary ache of toil
Fainted on either side; sinews and might
Of strong men were unstrung. But o’er the son 650
Of battle-stay Achilles weariness
Crept not: his battle-eager spirit aye
Was tireless; never touched by palsying fear
He fought on, as with the triumphant strength
Of an ever-flowing river: though it roll
‘Twixt blazing forests, though the madding blast
Roll stormy seas of flame, it feareth not,
For at its brink faint grows the fervent heat,
The strong flood turns its might to impotence;
So weariness nor fear could bow the knees 660
Of Hero Achilles’ gallant-hearted son,
Still as he fought, st
ill cheered his comrades on.
Of myriad shafts sped at him none might touch
His flesh, but even as snowflakes on a rock
Fell vainly ever: wholly screened was he
By broad shield and strong helmet, gifts of a God.
In these exulting did the Aeacid’s son
Stride all along the wall, with ringing shouts
Cheering the dauntless Argives to the fray,
Being their mightiest far, bearing a soul 670
Insatiate of the awful onset-cry,
Burning with one strong purpose, to avenge
His father’s death: the Myrmidons in their king
Exulted. Roared the battle round the wall.
Two sons he slew of Meges rich in gold,
Scion of Dymas — sons of high renown,
Cunning to hurl the dart, to drive the steed
In war, and deftly cast the lance afar,
Born at one birth beside Sangarius’ banks
Of Periboea to him, Celtus one, 680
And Eubius the other. But not long
His boundless wealth enjoyed they, for the
Fates Span them a thread of life exceeding brief.
As on one day they saw the light, they died
On one day by the same hand. To the heart
Of one Neoptolemus sped a javelin; one
He smote down with a massy stone that crashed
Through his strong helmet, shattered all its ridge,
And dashed his brains to earth. Around them fell
Foes many, a host untold. The War-god’s work 690
Waxed ever mightier till the eventide,
Till failed the light celestial; then the host
Of brave Eurypylus from the ships drew back
A little: they that held those leaguered towers
Had a short breathing-space; the sons of Troy
Had respite from the deadly-echoing strife,
From that hard rampart-battle. Verily all
The Argives had beside their ships been slain,
Had not Achilles’ strong son on that day
Withstood the host of foes and their great chief 700
Eurypylus. Came to that young hero’s side
Phoenix the old, and marvelling gazed on one
The image of Peleides. Tides of joy
And grief swept o’er him — grief, for memories
Of that swift-footed father — joy, for sight
Of such a son. He for sheer gladness wept;
For never without tears the tribes of men
Live — nay, not mid the transports of delight.
He clasped him round as father claspeth son
Whom, after long and troublous wanderings, 710
The Gods bring home to gladden a father’s heart.
Delphi Complete Works of Quintus Smyrnaeus Page 18
