第18章 BOOK II(7)

"Dead art thou, dear, dear child, and thou hast clad Thy mother with a pall of grief. Oh, I, Now thou art slain, will not endure to light The Immortal Heavenly Ones! No, I will plunge Down to the dread depths of the underworld, Where thy lone spirit flitteth to and fro, And will to blind night leave earth, sky, and sea, Till Chaos and formless darkness brood o'er all, That Cronos' Son may also learn what means Anguish of heart. For not less worship-worthy Than Nereus' Child, by Zeus's ordinance, Am I, who look on all things, I, who bring All to their consummation. Recklessly My light Zeus now despiseth! Therefore I Will pass into the darkness. Let him bring Up to Olympus Thetis from the sea To hold for him light forth to Gods and men!

My sad soul loveth darkness more than day, Lest I pour light upon thy slayer's head" Thus as she cried, the tears ran down her face Immortal, like a river brimming aye:

Drenched was the dark earth round the corse. The Night Grieved in her daughter's anguish, and the heaven Drew over all his stars a veil of mist And cloud, of love unto the Lady of Light.

Meanwhile within their walls the Trojan folk For Memnon sorrowed sore, with vain regret Yearning for that lost king and all his host.

Nor greatly joyed the Argives, where they lay Camped in the open plain amidst the dead.

There, mingled with Achilles' praise, uprose Wails for Antilochus: joy clasped hands with grief.

All night in groans and sighs most pitiful The Dawn-queen lay: a sea of darkness moaned Around her. Of the dayspring nought she recked:

She loathed Olympus' spaces. At her side Fretted and whinnied still her fleetfoot steeds, Trampling the strange earth, gazing at their Queen Grief-stricken, yearning for the fiery course.

Suddenly crashed the thunder of the wrath Of Zeus; rocked round her all the shuddering earth, And on immortal Eos trembling came.

Swiftly the dark-skinned Aethiops from her sight Buried their lord lamenting. As they wailed Unceasingly, the Dawn-queen lovely-eyed Changed them to birds sweeping through air around The barrow of the mighty dead. And these Still do the tribes of men "The Memnons" call;

And still with wailing cries they dart and wheel Above their king's tomb, and they scatter dust Down on his grave, still shrill the battle-cry, In memory of Memnon, each to each.

But he in Hades' mansions, or perchance Amid the Blessed on the Elysian Plain, Laugheth. Divine Dawn comforteth her heart Beholding them: but theirs is toil of strife Unending, till the weary victors strike The vanquished dead, or one and all fill up The measure of their doom around his grave.

So by command of Eos, Lady of Light, The swift birds dree their weird. But Dawn divine Now heavenward soared with the all-fostering Hours, Who drew her to Zeus' threshold, sorely loth, Yet conquered by their gentle pleadings, such As salve the bitterest grief of broken hearts.

Nor the Dawn-queen forgat her daily course, But quailed before the unbending threat of Zeus, Of whom are all things, even all comprised Within the encircling sweep of Ocean's stream, Earth and the palace-dome of burning stars.

Before her went her Pleiad-harbingers, Then she herself flung wide the ethereal gates, And, scattering spray of splendour, flashed there-through.