第5章 BOOK I(3)

Marvelled the Argives, far across the plain Seeing the hosts of Troy charge down on them, And midst them Penthesileia, Ares' child.

These seemed like ravening beasts that mid the hills Bring grimly slaughter to the fleecy flocks;

And she, as a rushing blast of flame she seemed That maddeneth through the copses summer-scorched, When the wind drives it on; and in this wise Spake one to other in their mustering host:

"Who shall this be who thus can rouse to war The Trojans, now that Hector hath been slain -- These who, we said, would never more find heart To stand against us? Lo now, suddenly Forth are they rushing, madly afire for fight!

Sure, in their midst some great one kindleth them To battle's toil! Thou verily wouldst say This were a God, of such great deeds he dreams!

Go to, with aweless courage let us arm Our own breasts: let us summon up our might In battle-fury. We shall lack not help Of Gods this day to close in fight with Troy."

So cried they; and their flashing battle-gear Cast they about them: forth the ships they poured Clad in the rage of fight as with a cloak.

Then front to front their battles closed, like beasts Of ravin, locked in tangle of gory strife.

Clanged their bright mail together, clashed the spears, The corslets, and the stubborn-welded shields And adamant helms. Each stabbed at other's flesh With the fierce brass: was neither ruth nor rest, And all the Trojan soil was crimson-red.

Then first Penthesileia smote and slew Molion; now Persinous falls, and now Eilissus; reeled Antitheus 'neath her spear The pride of Lernus quelled she: down she bore Hippalmus 'neath her horse-hoofs; Haemon's son Died; withered stalwart Elasippus' strength.

And Derinoe laid low Laogonus, And Clonie Menippus, him who sailed Long since from Phylace, led by his lord Protesilaus to the war with Troy.

Then was Podarces, son of Iphiclus, Heart-wrung with ruth and wrath to see him lie Dead, of all battle-comrades best-beloved.

Swiftly at Clonie he hurled, the maid Fair as a Goddess: plunged the unswerving lance 'Twixt hip and hip, and rushed the dark blood forth After the spear, and all her bowels gushed out.

Then wroth was Penthesileia; through the brawn Of his right arm she drave the long spear's point, She shore atwain the great blood-brimming veins, And through the wide gash of the wound the gore Spirted, a crimson fountain. With a groan Backward he sprang, his courage wholly quelled By bitter pain; and sorrow and dismay Thrilled, as he fled, his men of Phylace.

A short way from the fight he reeled aside, And in his friends' arms died in little space.

Then with his lance Idomeneus thrust out, And by the right breast stabbed Bremusa. Stilled For ever was the beating of her heart.

She fell, as falls a graceful-shafted pine Hewn mid the hills by woodmen: heavily, Sighing through all its boughs, it crashes down.

So with a wailing shriek she fell, and death Unstrung her every limb: her breathing soul Mingled with multitudinous-sighing winds.

Then, as Evandre through the murderous fray With Thermodosa rushed, stood Meriones, A lion in the path, and slew: his spear Right to the heart of one he drave, and one Stabbed with a lightning sword-thrust 'twixt the hips:

Leapt through the wounds the life, and fled away.

Oileus' fiery son smote Derinoe 'Twixt throat and shoulder with his ruthless spear;

And on Alcibie Tydeus' terrible son Swooped, and on Derimacheia: head with neck Clean from the shoulders of these twain he shore With ruin-wreaking brand. Together down Fell they, as young calves by the massy axe Of brawny flesher felled, that, shearing through The sinews of the neck, lops life away.

So, by the hands of Tydeus' son laid low Upon the Trojan plain, far, far away From their own highland-home, they fell. Nor these Alone died; for the might of Sthenelus Down on them hurled Cabeirus' corse, who came From Sestos, keen to fight the Argive foe, But never saw his fatherland again.

Then was the heart of Paris filled with wrath For a friend slain. Full upon Sthenelus Aimed he a shaft death-winged, yet touched him not, Despite his thirst for vengeance: otherwhere The arrow glanced aside, and carried death Whither the stern Fates guided its fierce wing, And slew Evenor brazen-tasleted, Who from Dulichium came to war with Troy.

For his death fury-kindled was the son Of haughty Phyleus: as a lion leaps Upon the flock, so swiftly rushed he: all Shrank huddling back before that terrible man.

Itymoneus he slew, and Hippasus' son Agelaus: from Miletus brought they war Against the Danaan men by Nastes led, The god-like, and Amphimachus mighty-souled.

On Mycale they dwelt; beside their home Rose Latmus' snowy crests, stretched the long glens Of Branchus, and Panormus' water-meads.

Maeander's flood deep-rolling swept thereby, Which from the Phrygian uplands, pastured o'er By myriad flocks, around a thousand forelands Curls, swirls, and drives his hurrying ripples on Down to the vine-clad land of Carian men These mid the storm of battle Meges slew, Nor these alone, but whomsoe'er his lance Black-shafted touched, were dead men; for his breast The glorious Trito-born with courage thrilled To bring to all his foes the day of doom.

And Polypoetes, dear to Ares, slew Dresaeus, whom the Nymph Neaera bare To passing-wise Theiodamas for these Spread was the bed of love beside the foot Of Sipylus the Mountain, where the Gods Made Niobe a stony rock, wherefrom Tears ever stream: high up, the rugged crag Bows as one weeping, weeping, waterfalls Cry from far-echoing Hermus, wailing moan Of sympathy: the sky-encountering crests Of Sipylus, where alway floats a mist Hated of shepherds, echo back the cry.

Weird marvel seems that Rock of Niobe To men that pass with feet fear-goaded: there They see the likeness of a woman bowed, In depths of anguish sobbing, and her tears Drop, as she mourns grief-stricken, endlessly.

Yea, thou wouldst say that verily so it was, Viewing it from afar; but when hard by Thou standest, all the illusion vanishes;