Metamorphoses
Ovid
Ovid. Metamorphoses. More, Brookes, translator. Boston: Cornhill Publishing Co., 1922.
- The chiefs were seated, and the soldiers form
- a circle round them. Then Ajax, the approved
- lord of the seven-fold shield, arose and spoke.
- Impatient in his wrath, he looked with stern,
- set features, out over Sigaean shores,
- and over the fleet of ships upon the beach,
- and, stretching out his hands, he said,
- “We plead,
- O Jupiter, our cause before the ships,—
- Ulysses vies with me! He did not shrink
- from giving way before the flames of Hector,
- when I withstood them and I saved the fleet.
- 'Tis safer then to fight with lying words
- than with his hands. I am not prompt to speak,
- nor he to act. I am as good in war
- and deadly battle as he is in talk.
- Pelasgians, I do not suppose my deeds
- must here be mentioned: you have witnessed them
- but let Ulysses tell of deeds which he
- performed without a witness and which Night
- alone is conscious of. I own the prize
- we seek is great, but such a rival makes
- it small. To Ajax there s no cause for pride
- in having any prize, however great,
- for which Ulysses hoped. But he has won
- reward enough already. He can boast,
- when vanquished, that he strove with me.
- “I, even if my merit were in doubt
- should still excell in birth. I am the son
- of Telamon, who with great Hercules
- brought low the power of Troy and in the ship
- of Jason voyaged even to the Colchian shores.
- His father, Aeacus, now is a judge
- among the silent shades—where Sisyphus
- toils and is mocked forever with the stone.
- Great Jove himself calls Aeacus his son.
- Thus, Ajax is the third from Jupiter.
- But, Greeks, let not this line of my descent
- avail me, if I do not share it with
- my cousin, great Achilles. I demand
- these arms now due me as a cousin. Why
- should this one, from the blood of Sisyphus,
- and like him for his thefts and frauds, intrude
- the names of that loathed family upon
- honored descendants of brave Aeacus?
- “Will you deny me arms because I took
- arms earlier, no man prompting me,
- and call this man the better, who last of all
- took up arms, and, pretending he was mad,
- declined war, till the son of Naplius
- more shrewd than he (but to his future cost)
- discovered the contrivance of the fraud
- and had the coward dragged forth to the arms
- he had avoided. And shall this man have
- the world's best arms, who wanted none?
- Shall I lack honor and my cousin's gift
- because I faced the danger with the first?
- “Would that his madness had been real, or
- had been accepted as reality
- and that he never had attended us,
- as our companion to the Phrygian towers,
- this counsellor of evil! Then, good son
- of Poeas, Lemnos would not hold you now,
- exposed through guilt of ours! You, as men say,
- hidden in forest lairs, are moving with your groans
- the very rocks and asking for Ulysses
- what he so well deserves—what, if indeed
- there still are gods, you shall not ask in vain.
- And now, one of our leaders, he that was
- sworn to the same arms with ourselves! by whom
- the arrows of great Hercules are used,
- as his successor; broken by disease
- and famine, clothed with feathers, now must feed
- on birds and squander for his wretched fare
- the arrows destined for the wreck of Troy.
- “At least he lives, because he has not stayed
- too near Ulysses. Hapless Palamedes
- might wish that he too had been left behind,
- then he would live or would have met a death
- without dishonor. For this man, who well
- remembered the unfortunate discovery
- of his feigned madness, made a fraudulent
- attack on Palamedes, who he said
- betrayed the Grecian interest. He proved
- his false charge to the Greeks by showing them
- the gold which he himself hid in the ground.
- By exile or by death he has decreased
- the true strength of the Greeks. And so he fights,
- for such things men have cause to fear Ulysses!
- “Should he excel the faithful Nestor by
- his eloquence, I'd yet be well convinced
- the way he forsook Nestor was a crime,
- old Nestor, who implored in vain his aid,
- when he was hindered by his wounded steed
- and wearied with the years of his old age,
- was then deserted by that scheming man.
- The charge that I have made is strictly true,
- and the son of Tydeus knows it all too well;
- for he at that time called him by his name,
- rebuked him and upbraided his weak friend
- for coward flight.
- “The gods above behold
- the affairs of men with justice. That same man
- who would not help a friend now calls for help;
- he who forsook a friend, should be forsaken,
- the law he made returns upon himself.
- He called aloud on his companions;
- I came and saw him trembling, pale with fear,
- and shuddering, at the thought of coming death.
- I held my shield above him where he lay,
- and that way saved the villain's dastard life,
- and little praise I have deserved for that.
- If you still wish to claim this armor, let
- us both return to that place and restore
- the enemy, your wound, and usual fear—
- there hide behind my shield, and under that
- contend with me! Yet, when I faced the foe,
- he, whom his wound had left no power to stand,
- forgot the wound and took to headlong flight.
- “Hector approached, and brought the gods with him
- to battle; and, wherever he rushed on,
- not only this Ulysses was alarmed,
- but even the valiant, for so great the fear
- he caused them. Hector, proud in his success
- in blood and slaughter, I then dared to meet
- and with a huge: stone from a distance hurled
- I laid him flat. When he demanded one
- to fight with, I engaged him quite alone,
- for you my Greek friends, prayed the lot
- might fall upon me, and your prayers prevailed.
- If you should ask me of this fight, I will
- declare I was not vanquished there by him.
- “Behold, the Trojans brought forth fire and sword
- and Jove, as well, against the Grecian fleet,
- where now has eloquent Ulysses gone?
- Truly, I did protect a thousand ships
- with my breast, saving the hopes of your return.—
- for all these many ships, award me arms!
- But, let me speak the truth, the arms will gain
- more fame than I, for they will share my glory.
- And they need Ajax, Ajax needs not them.
- Let the Ithacan compare with deeds like mine
- his sleeping Rhesus, his unwarlike Dolon,
- Helenus taken, and Pallas gained by theft—
- all done by night and all with Diomed.
- If you must give these arms for deeds so mean,
- then give the greater share to Diomed.
- “Why give arms to Ulysses, who by stealth
- and quite unarmed, has always done his work,
- deceiving his unwary enemy
- by stratagems? This brilliant helmet, rich
- with sparkling gold, will certainly betray
- his plans, and will discover him when hid.
- His soft Dulichian head beneath the helm
- of great Achilles will not bear the weight;
- Achilles' heavy spear from Pelion must
- be burdensome for his unwarlike hands:
- nor will the shield, graven with the vasty world
- beseem a dastard left hand, smooth for theft.
- “Why caitiff, will you beg them for a gift,
- which will but weaken you? If by mistake,
- the Grecian people should award you this,
- it would not fright the foe but offer spoils
- and that swift flight (in which alone you have
- excelled all others, dastard wretch!) would soon
- grow laggard, dragging such a weight. And that
- good shield of yours, which has but rarely felt
- a conflict, is unhurt; for mine, agape
- with wounds a thousand from swift-striking darts,
- a new one must be found.
- “In short, what need
- is there for words? Let us be tried in war.
- Let all the arms of brave Achilles now
- be thrown among the foe; order them all
- to be retrieved; and decorate for war
- whoever brings them back, a worthy prize.”
- Ajax, the son of Telamon, stopped speech,
- and murmuring among the multitude
- followed his closing words, until Ulysses,
- Laertian hero, stood up there and fixed
- his eyes a short time on the ground; then raised
- them towards the chiefs; and with his opening words,
- which they awaited, the grace of his art
- was not found wanting to his eloquence.
- “If my desire and yours could have prevailed,
- O noble Greeks, the man who should receive
- a prize so valued, would not be in doubt,
- and you would now enjoy your arms, and we
- enjoy you, great Achilles. Since unjust
- fate has denied him both to me and you,
- (and here he wiped his eyes dry with his hands,
- as though then shedding tears,) who could succeed
- the great Achilles better than the one
- through whom the great Achilles joined the Greeks?
- Let Ajax win no votes because he seems
- to be as stupid as the truth declares.
- Let not my talents, which were always used
- for service of the Greeks, increase my harm:
- and let this eloquence of mine (if such
- we call it) which is pleading now for me,
- as it has pleaded many times for you,
- awake no envy. Let each man show his best.
- “Now as for ancestors and noble birth
- and deeds we have not done ourselves, all these
- I hardly call them ours. But, if he boasts
- because he is the great grandson of Jove,
- the founder of my family, you know,
- is Jupiter; by birth I am just the same
- degree removed from Jupiter as he.
- Laertes is my father, my grandsire is
- Arcesius; and my great grandsire is Jove,
- and my line: has no banished criminal.
- My mother's grandsire, Mercury, would give
- me further claims of birth—on either side a god.
- “But not because my mother's line is better
- and not because my father certainly,
- is innocent of his own brother's blood,
- have I advanced my claim to own those arms.
- Let personal merit weigh the cause alone.
- Let Ajax win no credit from the fact
- that Telamon, was brother unto Peleus.
- Let not his merit be that he is near by blood,
- may honor of manhood weigh in your award!
- “But, if you seek the heir and next of kin,
- Peleus is father, and Pyrrhus is the son
- of great Achilles. Where is Ajax then?
- These arms might go to Phthia or to Scyros!
- Teucer might claim the prize because he is
- Achilles' cousin. Does he seek these arms?
- And, if he did, would you allow his claim?
- “Since then the contest lies in deeds alone,
- though I have done more than may be well told,
- I will recall them as they have occurred.
- “Achilles' Nereid mother, who foresaw
- his death, concealed her son by change of dress.
- By that disguise Ajax, among the rest,
- was well deceived. I showed with women's wares
- arms that might win the spirit of a man.
- The hero still wore clothing of a girl,
- when, as he held a shield and spear, I said
- ‘Son of a goddess! Pergama but waits
- to fall by you, why do you hesitate
- to assure the overthrow of mighty Troy?’
- With these bold words, I laid my hand on him—
- and to: brave actions I sent forth the brave:
- his deeds of Bravery are therefore mine
- it was my power that conquered Telephus,
- as he fought with his lance; it was through me
- that, vanquished and suppliant? he at last was healed.
- I caused the fall of Thebes; believe me, I
- took Lesbos, Tenedos, Chryse and Cilla—
- the cities of Apollo; and I took
- Scyros; think too, of the Lyrnesian wall
- as shaken by my hand, destroyed, and thrown
- down level with the ground. Let this suffice:
- I found the man who caused fierce Hector's death,
- through me the famous Hector now, lies low!
- And for those arms which made Achilles known
- I now demand these arms. To him alive
- I gave them—at his death they should be mine.
- “After the grief of one had reached all Greece,
- and ships a thousand, filled Euboean Aulis;
- the breezes long expected would not blow
- or adverse held the helpless fleet ashore.
- Then ruthless oracles gave their command,
- that Agamemnon should make sacrifice
- of his loved daughter and so satisfy
- Diana's cruel heart. The father stood
- up resolute, enraged against the gods,
- a parent even though a king. I turned,
- by tactful! words, a father's tender heart
- to the great issue of the public weal.
- I will confess it, and when I have confessed,
- may the son of Atreus pardon: I had to plead
- a difficult case before a partial judge.
- The people's good, his brother's, and stern duty,
- that followed his great office, won his ear,
- till royal honor outweighed claims of blood.
- I sought the mother, who could not be won
- by pleading but must be deceived by craft.
- Had Ajax gone to her, our thousand sails
- would still droop, waiting for the favoring breeze.
- “As a bold envoy I was even sent
- off to the towers of Ilium, and there
- I saw the senate-house of lofty Troy,
- and, fearless, entered it, while it was full
- of heroes. There, undaunted, I spoke for
- the cause which all the Greeks had given me.
- Accusing Paris, I demanded back
- the gold and stolen Helen, and I moved
- both Priam and Antenor. All the while
- Paris, his brothers, and their robber crew
- could scarce withhold their wicked hands from me.
- And all this, Menelaus, is well known to you:
- that was the first danger I shared with you.
- “I need not linger over the many things
- which by my counsel and my bravery
- I have accomplished through this long-drawn war.
- “A long time, after the first battle clash,
- the foe lay quiet within city walls,
- giving no challenge for an open fight—
- he stood nine years of siege before we fought
- what were you doing all that tedious time,
- what use were you, good only in a fight?
- If you will make inquiry of my deeds:
- I fashioned ambuscades for enemies;
- and circled our defenses with a trench;
- I cheered allies so they might all endure
- with patient minds a long, protracted war;
- I showed how our own army might subsist
- and how it could be armed; and I was sent
- wherever the necessity required.
- “Then, at the wish of Jove, our king, deceive
- by A false dream, bids us give up the war—
- he could excuse his order by the cause.
- Let Ajax tell him Troy must be laid low
- or let him fight—at least he can do that!
- Why does he fail to stop the fugitives?
- Why not take arms and tell the wavering crowd
- to rally round him? Would that be too much
- for one who never speaks except to boast?
- But now words fail me: Ajax turns and flees!
- I witnessed it and was ashamed to see
- you turn disgraced, preparing sails for flight.
- With exclamations and without delay,
- I said, ‘What are you doing? O my friends,
- has madness seized you that you will quit Troy,
- which is as good as taken? What can you
- bear home, after ten years, but your disgrace?’
- “With these commanding words, which grief itself
- gave eloquence, I brought resisting Greeks
- back from their purposed flight. Atrides called
- together his allies, all terror struck.
- Even then, Ajax the son of Telamon
- dared not vouchsafe one word. But impudent
- Thersites hurled vile words against the kings,
- and, thanks to me, he did not miss reproof.
- I rose and spoke to my disheartened friends,
- reviving their lost courage with my words
- from that time forth, whatever deeds this man,
- my rival, may have done, belong to me.
- 'Twas I who stayed his flight and brought him back.
- “Which of the noble Greeks has given you praise
- or sought your company? Yet Diomed
- has shared his deeds with me and praises me,
- and, while Ulysses is with him, is brave
- and confident. 'Tis worthy of regard,
- when out of many thousands of the Greeks,
- a man becomes the choice of Diomed!
- “It was not lot that ordered me to go;
- and yet, despising dangers of the night,
- despising dangers of the enemy,
- I slew one, Dolon, of the Phrygian race,
- who dared to do the very things we dared,
- but not before I had prevailed on him
- to tell me everything, by which I learned
- perfidious actions which Troy had designed.
- “Of such things now, I had discovered all
- that should be found out, and I might have then
- returned to enjoy the praise I had deserved.
- But not content with that, I sought the tent
- of Rhesus, and within his camp I slew
- him and his proved attendants. Having thus
- gained as a conqueror my own desires,
- I drove back in a captured chariot,—
- a joyous triumph. Well, deny me, then.
- The arms of him whose steeds the enemy
- demanded as the price of one night's aid.
- Ajax himself has been more generous.
- “Why should I name Sarpedon's Lycian troops
- among whom I made havoc with my sword?
- I left Coeranos dead and streaming blood,
- with the sword I killed Alastor, Chromius,
- Alcander, Prytanis, Halius, and Noemon,
- Thoon and Charops with Chersidamas,
- and Ennomus—all driven by cruel fate,
- not reckoning humbler men whom I laid low,
- battling beneath the shadow of the city walls.
- And fellow citizens, I have my wounds
- honorable in the front. Do not believe
- my word alone. Look for yourselves and see!”
- Then with one hand, he drew his robe aside.
- “Here is a breast,” he cried, “that bled for you!
- But Ajax never shed a drop of blood
- to aid his friends, in all these many years,
- and has a body free of any wound.
- “What does it prove, if he declares that he
- fought for our ships against both Troy and Jove?
- I grant he did, for it is not my wont
- with malice to belittle other's deeds.
- But let him not claim for himself alone
- an honor in which all may have a share,
- let him concede some credit due to you.
- Disguised within the fear inspiring arms
- of great Achilles, Actor's son drove back
- the host of Trojans from our threatened fleet
- or ships and Ajax would have burned together.
- “Unmindful of the king, the chiefs, and me,
- he dreams that he alone dared to engage
- in single fight with Hector—he the ninth
- to volunteer and chosen just by lot.
- But yet, O brave chief! What availed the fight?
- Hector returned, not injured by a wound.
- “Ah, bitter fate, with how much grief I am
- compelled to recollect the time, when brave
- Achilles, bulwark of the Greeks, was slain.
- Nor tears, nor grief, nor fear, could hinder me:
- I carried his dead body from the ground,
- uplifted on these shoulders, I repeat,
- upon these shoulders from that ground
- I bore off dead Achilles, and those arms
- which now I want to bear away again.
- I have the strength to walk beneath their weight,
- I have a mind to understand their worth.
- Did the hero's mother, goddess of the sea,
- win for her son these arms, made by a god,
- a work of wondrous art, to have them clothe
- a rude soldier, who has no mind at all?
- He never could be made to understand
- the rich engravings, pictured on the shield—
- the ocean, earth, and stars in lofty skies;
- the Pleiades, and Hyades, the Bear,
- which touches not the ocean, far beyond
- the varied planets, and the fire-bright sword
- of high Orion. He demands a prize,
- which, if he had it, would be lost on him.
- “What of his taunting me, because I shrank
- from hardships of this war and I was slow
- to join the expedition? Does he not see,
- that he reviles the great Achilles too?
- Was my pretense a crime? then so was his.
- Was our delay a fault? mine was the less,
- for I came sooner; me a loving wife
- detained from war, a loving mother him.
- Some hours we gave to them, the rest to you.
- Why should I be alarmed, if now I am
- unable to defend myself against
- this accusation, which is just the same
- as you have brought against so great a man?
- Yet he was found by the dexterity
- of me, Ulysses, and Ulysses was
- not found by the dexterity of Ajax.
- “It is no wonder that he pours on me
- reproaches of his silly tongue, because
- he charges you with what is worthy shame.
- Am I depraved because this Palamedes has
- improperly been charged with crime by me?
- Then was it honorable for all of you,
- if you condemned him? Only think, that he,
- the son of Naplius, made no defence
- against the crime, so great, so manifest:
- nor did you only hear the charges brought
- against him, but you saw the proof yourselves,
- and in the gold his villainy was shown.
- “Nor am I to be blamed, if Vulcan's isle
- of Lemnos has become the residence
- of Philoctetes. Greeks, defend yourselves,
- for you agreed to it! Yes, I admit
- I urged him to withdraw from toils of war
- and those of travel and attempt by rest
- to ease his cruel pain. He took my advice
- and lives! The advice was not alone well meant
- (that would have been enough) but it was wise.
- Because our prophets have declared, he must
- lead us, if we may still maintain our hope
- for Troy's destruction—therefore, you must not
- intrust that work to me. Much better, send
- the son of Telamon. His eloquence
- will overcome the hero's rage, most fierce
- from his disease and anger: or else his
- invention of some wile will skilfully
- deliver him to us.—The Simois
- will first flow backward, Ida stand without
- its foliage, and Achaia promise aid
- to Troy itself; ere, lacking aid from me,
- the craft of stupid Ajax will avail.
- “Though, Philoctetes, you should be enraged
- against your friends, against the king and me;
- although you curse and everlastingly
- devote my head to harm; although you wish,
- to ease your anguish, that I may be given
- into your power, that you may shed my blood;
- and though you wait your turn and chance at me;
- still I will undertake the quest and will
- try all my skill to bring you back with me.
- If my good fortune then will favor me,
- I shall obtain your arrows; as I made
- the Trojan seer my captive, as I learned
- the heavenly oracles and fate of Troy,
- and as I brought back through a host of foes
- Minerva's image from the citadel.
- “And is it possible, Ajax may now
- compare himself with me? Truly the Fates
- will hold Troy from our capture, if we leave
- the statue. Where is valiant Ajax now,
- where are the boasts of that tremendous man?
- Why are you trembling, while Ulysses dares
- to go beyond our guards and brave the night?
- In spite of hostile swords, he goes within
- not only the strong walls of Troy but even
- the citadel, lifts up the goddess from
- her shrine, and takes her through the enemy!
- If I had not done this, Telamon's son
- would bear his shield of seven bull hides in vain.
- That night I gained the victory over Troy—
- 'Twas then I won our war with Pergama,
- because I made it possible to win.
- “Stop hinting by your look and muttered words
- that Diomed was my partner in the deed.
- The praise he won is his. You, certainly
- fought not alone, when you held up your shield
- to save the allied fleet: a multitude
- was with you, but a single man gave me
- his valued help.
- “And if he did not know
- a fighting man can not gain victory
- so surely as the wise man, that the prize
- is given to something rarer than a brave right hand,
- he would himself be a contender now
- for these illustrious arms. Ajax the less
- would have come forward too, so would the fierce
- Eurypylus, so would Andraemon's son.
- Nor would Idomeneus withhold his claim,
- nor would his countryman Meriones.
- Yes, Menelaus too would seek the prize.
- All these brave men, my equals in the field,
- have yielded to my wisdom.
- “Your right hand
- is valuable in war, your temper stands
- in need of my direction. You have strength
- without intelligence; I look out for
- the future. You are able in the fight;
- I help our king to find the proper time.
- Your body may give service, and my mind
- must point the way: and just as much as he
- who guides the ship must be superior
- to him who rows it; and we all agree
- the general is greater than the soldier; so,
- do I excel you. In the body lives
- an intellect much rarer than a hand,
- by that we measure human excellence.
- “O chieftains, recompense my vigilance!
- For all these years of anxious care, award
- this honor to my many services.
- Our victory is in sight; I have removed
- the opposing fates and, opening wide the way
- to capture Pergama, have captured it.
- Now by our common hopes, by Troy's high walls
- already tottering and about to fall,
- and by the gods that I won from the foe,
- by what remains for wisdom to devise
- or what may call for bold and fearless deeds—
- if you think any hope is left for Troy,
- remember me! Or, if you do not give
- these arms to me, then give them all to her!”
- And he pointed to Minerva's fateful head.
- The assembled body of the chiefs was moved;
- and then, appeared the power of eloquence:
- the fluent man received, amid applause,
- the arms of the brave man. His rival, who
- so often when alone, stood firm against
- great Hector and the sword, and flames and Jove,
- stood not against a single passion, wrath.
- The unconquerable was conquered by his grief.
- He drew his sword, and said:—“This is at least
- my own; or will Ulysses also claim
- this, for himself. I must use this against
- myself—the blade which often has been wet,
- dripping with blood of Phrygians I have slain,.
- Will drip with his own master's:blood,
- lest any man but Ajax vanquish Ajax.”
- Saying this, he turned toward the vital spot
- in his own breast, which never had felt a wound,
- the fated sword and plunged it deeply in.
- though many sought to aid, no hand had strength
- to draw that steel—deep driven. The blood itself
- unaided drove it out. The ensanguined earth
- sprouted from her green turf that purple flower
- which grew of old from Hyacinthine blood.
- Its petals now are charged with double freight—
- the warrior's name, Apollo's cry of woe.
- The conqueror, Ulysses, now set sail,
- for Lemnos, country of Hypsipyle,
- and for the land of Thoas, famed afar,
- those regions infamous in olden days,
- where women slew their husbands. So he went
- that he might capture and bring back with him
- the arrows of brave Hercules. When these
- were given back to the Greeks, their lord with them,
- a final hand at last prevailed to end
- that long fought war. Both Troy and Priam fell,
- and Priam's wretched wife lost all she had,
- until at last she lost her human form.
- Her savage barkings frightened foreign lands,
- where the long Hellespont is narrowed down.
- Great Troy was burning: while the fire still raged,
- Jove's altar drank old Priam's scanty blood.
- The priestess of Apollo then, alas!
- Was dragged by her long hair, while up towards heaven
- she lifted supplicating hands in vain.
- The Trojan matrons, clinging while they could
- to burning temples and ancestral gods,
- victorious Greeks drag off as welcome spoil.
- Astyanax was hurled down from the very tower
- from which he often had looked forth and seen
- his father, by his mother pointed out,
- when Hector fought for honor and his country's weal.
- Now Boreas counsels to depart. The sails,
- moved by a prosperous breeze, resound and wave—
- the Trojan women cry,—“Farewell to Troy!
- Ah, we are hurried off! ” and, falling down,
- they kiss the soil, and leave the smoking roofs
- of their loved native land. The last to go
- on board the fleet was Hecuba, a sight
- most pitiful. She was found among the tombs
- of her lost sons. While she embraced each urn
- and fondly kissed their bones, Ulysses came
- with ruthless hands and bore her off, his prize
- she in her bosom took away the urn
- of Hector only, and upon his grave
- she left some white hair taken from her head,
- a meager gift, her white hair and her tears.
- Across the strait from Troy, there is a land
- claimed by Bistonian men, and in that land
- was a rich palace, built there by a king
- named Polymnestor. To him the Phrygian king
- in secret gave his youngest son to rear,
- his Polydorus, safe from Troy and war,
- a prudent course, if he had not sent gold
- arousing greed, incitement to a crime.
- Soon, when the fortunes of the Trojans fell,
- that wicked king of Thrace took his own sword,
- and pierced the throat of his poor foster son
- and then, as if the deed could be concealed,
- if he removed the body, hurled the boy
- from a wild cliff into the waves below.
- Until the sea might be more calm, and gales
- of wind might be subdued, Atrides moored
- his fleet of ships upon the Thracian shore;
- there, from wide gaping earth, Achilles rose,
- as large as when he lived, with look as fierce,
- as when his sword once threatened Agamemnon.
- “Forgetting me do you depart, O Greeks?”
- He said, “And is your grateful! memory
- of all my worth interred with my bones?
- Do not do so. And that my sepulchre
- may have due worship, let Polyxena
- be immolated to appease the ghost:
- of dead Achilles.” Fiercely so he spoke.
- The old friends of Achilles all obeyed
- his unforgiving shade; and instantly
- the noble and unhappy virgin—brave,
- more like a man than woman—was torn from
- her mother's bosom, cherished more by her,
- since widowed and alone. And then they led
- the virgin as a sacrifice from there
- up to the cruel altar. When the maid
- observed the savage rites prepared for her,
- and when she noticed Neoptolemus
- stand by her with his cruel sword in hand,
- his fixed eyes on her countenance; she said:—
- “Do not delay my generous gift of blood,
- with no resistance thrust the ready steel
- into my throat or breast!” And then she laid
- both throat and bosom bare. “Polyxena
- would never wish to live in slavery.
- And such rites win no favor from a god.
- Only I fondly wish my mother might
- not know that I have died. My love of her
- takes from my joy in death and gives me fear.
- Not my death truly, but her own sad life
- should be the most lamented in her tears.
- Now let your men stand back, that I may go
- with dignity down to the Stygian shades,
- and, if my plea is just, let no man's hand
- touch my pure virgin body. A nobler gift
- to him, whoever he may be, whom you
- desire to placate with my death today,
- shall be a free maid's blood. But, if my words—
- my parting wish, has power to touch your hearts,
- (King Priam's daughter, not a captive, pleads)
- freely return my body to my mother,
- let her not pay with gold for the sad right
- to bury me—but only with her tears!
- Yes, when she could, she also paid with gold.”
- After she said these words, the people could
- no more restrain their tears; but no one saw
- her shed one tear. Even the priest himself,
- reluctantly and weeping, drove the steel
- into her proffered breast. On failing knees
- she sank down to the earth; but still maintained
- a countenance undaunted to the last:
- and, even unto death, it was her care
- to cover all that ought to be concealed,
- and save the value of chaste modesty.
- The Trojan matrons took her and recalled,
- lamenting, all the sons of Priam dead,
- the wealth of blood one house had shed for all.
- And they bewailed the chaste Polyxena
- and you, her mother, only lately called
- a royal mother and a royal wife,—
- the soul of Asia's fair prosperity,;
- now lowest fallen in all the wreck of Troy.
- The conquering Ulysses only claimed
- her his because she had brought Hector forth:
- and Hector hardly found a master for
- his mother. She continued to embrace
- the body of a soul so brave, and shed
- her tears, as she had shed them often before
- for country lost, for sons, for royal mate.
- She bathed her daughter's wounds with tears and kissed
- them with her lips and once more beat her breast.
- Her white hair streamed down in the clotting blood,
- she tore her breast, and this and more she said:
- “My daughter, what further sorrow can be mine?
- My daughter you lie dead, I see your wounds—
- they are indeed my own. Lest I should lose
- one child of mine without a cruel sword,
- you have your wound. I thought, because
- you were a woman, you were safe from swords.
- But you, a woman, felt the deadly steel.
- That same Achilles, who has given to death
- so many of your brothers, caused your death,
- the bane of Troy and the serpent by my nest!
- When Paris and when Phoebus with their shafts
- had laid him low, ‘Ah, now at least,’ I said,
- ‘Achilles will no longer cause me dread.’
- Yet even then he still was to be feared.
- For him I have been fertile! Mighty Troy
- now lies in ruin, and the public woe
- is ended in one vast calamity.
- For me alone the woe of Troy still lives.
- “But lately on the pinnacle of fame,
- surrounded by my powerful sons-in-law,
- daughters, and daughters-in-law, and strong
- in my great husband, I am exiled now,
- and destitute, and forced from the sad tombs
- of those I love, to wretched slavery,
- serving Penelope: who showing me
- to curious dames of Ithaca, will point
- and say, while I am bending to my task,
- ‘Look at that woman who was widely known,
- the mother of great Hector, once the wife
- of Priam!’ After so many have been lost,
- now you, last comfort of a mother's grief,
- must make atonement on the foeman's tomb.
- I bore a victim for my enemy.
- “Why do I live—an iron witted wretch?
- Why do I linger? Why does cruel age
- detain me? Why, pernicious deities,
- thus hold me to this earth, unless you will
- that I may weep at future funerals?
- After the fall of Troy, who would suppose
- King Priam could be happy? Blest in death,
- he has not seen my daughter's dreadful fate.
- He lost at once his kingdom and his life.
- “Can I imagine you, a royal maid,
- will soon be honored with due funeral rites,
- and will be buried in our family tomb?
- Such fortune comes no more to your sad house.
- A drift of foreign sand will be your grave,
- the parting gift will be your mother's tears.
- We have lost everything! But no, there is
- one reason why I should endure a while.
- His mother's dearest, now her only child,
- once youngest of that company of sons,
- my Polydorus lives here on these shores
- protected by the friendly Thracian king.
- Then why delay to bathe these cruel wounds,
- her dear face spattered with the dreadful blood?”
- So Hecuba went wailing towards the shore
- with aged step and tearing her gray hair.
- At last the unhappy mother said, “Give me
- an urn; O, Trojan women!” for, she wished
- to dip up salt sea water. But just then,
- she saw the corpse of her last son, thrown out
- upon the shore; her Polydorus, killed,
- disfigured with deep wounds of Thracian swords.
- The Trojan women cried aloud, and she
- was struck dumb with her agony, which quite
- consumed both voice and tears within her heart—
- rigid and still she seemed as a hard rock.
- And now she gazes at the earth in front
- now lifts her haggard face up toward the skies,
- now scans that body lying stark and dead,
- now scans his wounds and most of all the wounds.
- She arms herself and draws up all her wrath.
- It burned as if she still held regal power
- she gave up all life to the single thought
- of quick revenge. Just as a lioness
- rages when plundered of her suckling cub
- and follows on his trail the unseen foe,
- so, Hecuba with rage mixed in her grief
- forgetful of her years, not her intent,
- went hastily to Polymnestor, who
- contrived this dreadful murder, and desired
- an interview, pretending it was her wish
- to show him hidden gold, for her lost son.
- The Odrysian king believed it all:
- accustomed to the love of gain, he went
- with her, in secret, to the spot she chose.
- Then craftily he said in his bland way:
- “Oh, Hecuba, you need not wait, give now,
- munificently to your son—and all
- you give, and all that you have given,
- by the good gods, I swear, shall be his own.”
- She eyed him sternly as he spoke
- and swore so falsely.—Then her rage boiled over,
- and, seconded by all her captive train,
- she flew at him and drove her fingers deep
- in his perfidious eyes; and tore them from
- his face—and plunged her hands into the raw
- and bleeding sockets (passion made her strong),
- defiled with his bad blood. How could she tear
- his eyes, gone from their seats? She wildly gouged
- the sightless sockets of his bleeding face!
- The Thracians, angered by such violence done
- upon their king, immediately attacked
- the Trojan matron with their stones and darts
- but she with hoarse growling and snapping jaws
- sprang at the stones, and, when she tried to speak,
- she barked like a fierce dog. The place still bears
- a name suggested by her hideous change.
- And she, long mindful! of her old time woe,
- ran howling dismally in Thracian fields.
- Her sad fate moved the Trojans and the Greeks,
- her friends and foes, and all the heavenly gods.
- Yes all, for even the sister-wife of Jove
- denied that Hecuba deserved such fate.
- Although Aurora had given aid to Troy,
- she had no heart nor leisure to be moved
- by fall of Troy or fate of Hecuba.
- At home she bore a greater grief and care;
- her loss of Memnon is afflicting her.
- Aurora, his rose-tinted mother, saw
- him perish by Achilles' deadly spear,
- upon the Phrygian plain. She saw his death,
- and the loved rose that lights the dawning hour
- turned death-pale, and the sky was veiled in clouds.
- The parent could not bear to see his limbs
- laid on the final flames. Just as she was,
- with loose hair streaming round her, she did not
- disdain to crouch down at the knees of Jove,
- and said these sad words added to her tears:
- “Beneath all those whom golden heaven sustains;
- (inferior, for see, through all the world
- my temples are so few) I have come now
- a goddess, to you; not with any hope
- that you may grant me temples, festivals,
- and altars, heated with devoted fires:
- but if you will consider the good deeds,
- which I, a woman, may yet do for you,
- when at the dawn I mark the edge of night;
- then you may think of some reward for me.
- But that is not my care; nor is it now
- Aurora's purpose here, that she should plead
- for honors, though deserved. I come bereaved,
- of my son Memnon, who in vain bore arms
- to aid his uncle and in prime of life
- (0, thus you willed it!) fell stricken by the sword
- of great Achilles. Give my son, I pray,
- O highest ruler of the gods, some honor,
- some comfort for his death, a little ease
- his mother's grief.” Jove nodded his assent.
- Immediately the high-wrought funeral-pile
- of Memnon fell down with its lofty fire,
- and volumes of black smoke obscured the day,
- as streams exhaling their dense rising fogs,
- exclude the bright sun from the land below.
- Black ashes fly and, rolling up a shape,
- retain a form and gather heat and life
- out of the fire. Their lightness gave them wings,
- first like a bird and then in fact a bird.
- The wings move whirring. In the neighboring air
- uncounted sisters, of one birth and growth
- together make one noise. Three times they flew
- around the funeral pile; and thrice the sound
- accordant of their fluttering wings went swift
- upon the soft breeze. When they turned about,
- their fourth flight in the skies divided them.
- As two fierce races from two hostile camps,
- clash in their warfare, these bird-sisters with
- their beaks and crooked claws clashed, passionate,
- until their tired wings and opposing breasts
- could not sustain them. And those kindred-foes
- fell down a sacrifice, memorial,
- to Memnon's ashes buried in that place.
- Brave Memnon, author of their birth, has given
- his name to those birds, marvellously formed,—
- and from him they are called Memnonides.—
- now, always when the Sun has passed the twelve
- signs of the Zodiac, they war again,
- to perish as a sacrifice for him.
- So others grieved, while Dymas' royal daughter
- was barking: but Aurora overcome
- with lasting sorrows, could not think of her:
- and even now, she sheds affectionate tears:
- and sprinkles them as dew on all the world.
- The Fates did not allow the hope of Troy
- to be destroyed entirely with her walls.
- Aeneas, the heroic son of Venus,
- bore on his shoulders holy images
- and still another holy weight, his sire,
- a venerable burden. From all his wealth
- the pious hero chose this for his care
- together with his child, Ascanius.
- Then with a fleet of exiles he sails forth,
- he leaves Antandrus, leaves the wicked realm
- and shore of Thrace now dripping with the blood
- of Polydorus. With fair winds and tide
- he and his comrades reach Apollo's isle.
- Good Anius, king of Delos, vigilant
- for all his subjects' welfare, and as priest
- devoted to Apollo, took him there
- into his temple and his home, and showed
- the city, the famed shrines, and the two trees
- which once Latona, while in labor, held.
- They burned sweet incense, adding to it wine,
- and laid the flesh of cattle in the flames,
- an offering marked by custom for the god.
- Then in the palace and its kingly hall,
- reclining on luxurious couches, they
- drank flowing wine with Ceres' gifts of food.
- But old Anchises asked: “O chosen priest
- of Phoebus, can I be deceived? When first
- I saw these walls, did you not have a son,
- and twice two daughters? Is it possible
- I am mistaken?” Anius replied,—
- shaking his temples wreathed with fillets white,—
- “It can be no mistake, great hero, you
- did see the father of five children then,
- (so much the risk of fortune may affect
- the best of men). You see me now, almost
- bereft of all. For what assistance can
- my absent son afford, while he is king,
- the ruler over Andros—that land named
- for his name—over which he rules for me?
- “The Delian god gave to my son the art
- of augury; and likewise, Liber gave
- my daughters precious gifts exceeding all
- my wishes and belief: since, every thing
- my daughters touched assumed the forms of corn,
- of sparkling wine, or gray-green olive oil.
- Most surely, wonderful advantages.
- “Soon as Atrides, he who conquered Troy
- had heard of this (for you should not suppose
- that we, too, did not suffer from your storms)
- he dragged my daughters there with savage force,
- from my loved bosom to his hostile camp,
- and ordered them to feed the Argive fleet,
- by their divinely given power of touch.
- “Whichever way they could, they made escape
- two hastened to Euboea, and two sought
- their brother's island, Andros. Quickly then
- an Argive squadron, following, threatened war,
- unless they were surrendered. The brother's love
- gave way to fear. And there is reason why
- you should forgive a timid brother's fear:
- he had no warrior like Aeneas, none
- like Hector, by whose prowess you held Troy
- from its destruction through ten years of war.
- “Strong chains were brought to hold my daughters' arms.
- Both lifted suppliant hands, which still were free,
- to heaven and cried, ‘0, Father Bacchus! give
- us needed aid!’ And he who had before
- given them the power of touch, did give them aid—
- if giving freedom without human shape
- can be called giving aid.—I never knew
- by what means they lost shape, and cannot tell;
- but their calamity is surely known:
- my daughters were transformed to snow-white doves,
- white birds of Venus, guardian of your days.”
- With this and other talk they shared the feast,
- then left the table and retired to sleep.
- They rose up with the day, and went at once
- to hear the oracle of Phoebus speak.
- He counselled them to leave that land and find
- their ancient mother and their kindred shores.
- The king attended them, and gave them gifts
- when ready to depart; a sceptre to
- Anchises, and a robe and quiver to
- his grandson, and he gave a goblet to
- Aeneas, that which formerly was sent
- to him by Therses, once his Theban guest.
- Therses had sent it from Aonian shores;
- but Alcon the Hylean should be named,
- for he had made the goblet and inscribed
- a pictured story on the polished side.
- There was a city shown with seven gates,
- from which the name could be derived by all.
- Outside the walls was a sad funeral,
- and tombs and fires and funeral pyres were shown,
- and many matrons with dishevelled hair
- and naked breasts, expressive of their grief,
- and many nymphs too, weeping mournfully
- because their streams were dry. Without a leaf
- the bare trees stood straight up and the she goats
- were nibbling in dry, stony fields. And there he carved
- Orion's daughters in the Theban square,
- one giving her bare throat a cruel cut,
- one with her shuttle making clumsy wounds;
- both dying for their people. Next they were borne
- out through the city with doe funeral pomp,
- and mourning crowds were gathered round their pyre.
- Then from the virgin ashes, lest the race
- should die. twin youths arose, whom fame
- has named Coroni and they shared
- in all the rites becoming for their mothers' dust.
- Even so in shining figures all was shown
- inscribed on ancient bronze. The top rim, made
- quite rough, was gilded with acanthus leaves.
- Presents of equal worth the Trojans gave:
- a maple incense casket for the priest,
- a bowl, a crown adorned with gold and gems.