: The Fall of Troy by Quintus Smyrnaeus Active Th Century Way Arthur S Arthur Sanders Translator - Epic poetry Greek Translations into English; Trojan War Poetry; Troy (Extinct city) Poetry

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BOOK I:

How died for Troy the Queen of the Amazons, Penthesileia.

When godlike Hector by Peleides slain Passed, and the pyre had ravined up his flesh, And earth had veiled his bones, the Trojans then Tarried in Priam's city, sore afraid Before the might of stout-heart Aeacus' son: As kine they were, that midst the copses shrink From faring forth to meet a lion grim, But in dense thickets terror-huddled cower; So in their fortress shivered these to see That mighty man. Of those already dead They thought of all whose lives he reft away As by Scamander's outfall on he rushed, And all that in mid-flight to that high wall He slew, how he quelled Hector, how he haled His corse round Troy;--yea, and of all beside Laid low by him since that first day whereon O'er restless seas he brought the Trojans doom. Ay, all these they remembered, while they stayed Thus in their town, and o'er them anguished grief Hovered dark-winged, as though that very day All Troy with shrieks were crumbling down in fire.

Then from Thermodon, from broad-sweeping streams, Came, clothed upon with beauty of Goddesses, Penthesileia--came athirst indeed For groan-resounding battle, but yet more Fleeing abhorred reproach and evil fame, Lest they of her own folk should rail on her Because of her own sister's death, for whom Ever her sorrows waxed, Hippolyte, Whom she had struck dead with her mighty spear, Not of her will--'twas at a stag she hurled. So came she to the far-famed land of Troy. Yea, and her warrior spirit pricked her on, Of murder's dread pollution thus to cleanse Her soul, and with such sacrifice to appease The Awful Ones, the Erinnyes, who in wrath For her slain sister straightway haunted her Unseen: for ever round the sinner's steps They hover; none may 'scape those Goddesses. And with her followed twelve beside, each one A princess, hot for war and battle grim, Far-famous each, yet handmaids unto her: Penthesileia far outshone them all. As when in the broad sky amidst the stars The moon rides over all pre-eminent, When through the thunderclouds the cleaving heavens Open, when sleep the fury-breathing winds; So peerless was she mid that charging host. Clonie was there, Polemusa, Derinoe, Evandre, and Antandre, and Bremusa, Hippothoe, dark-eyed Harmothoe, Alcibie, Derimacheia, Antibrote, And Thermodosa glorying with the spear. All these to battle fared with warrior-souled Penthesileia: even as when descends Dawn from Olympus' crest of adamant, Dawn, heart-exultant in her radiant steeds Amidst the bright-haired Hours; and o'er them all, How flawless-fair soever these may be, Her splendour of beauty glows pre-eminent; So peerless amid all the Amazons Unto Troy-town Penthesileia came. To right, to left, from all sides hurrying thronged The Trojans, greatly marvelling, when they saw The tireless War-god's child, the mailed maid, Like to the Blessed Gods; for in her face Glowed beauty glorious and terrible. Her smile was ravishing: beneath her brows Her love-enkindling eyes shone like to stars, And with the crimson rose of shamefastness Bright were her cheeks, and mantled over them Unearthly grace with battle-prowess clad.

Then joyed Troy's folk, despite past agonies, As when, far-gazing from a height, the hinds Behold a rainbow spanning the wide sea, When they be yearning for the heaven-sent shower, When the parched fields be craving for the rain; Then the great sky at last is overgloomed, And men see that fair sign of coming wind And imminent rain, and seeing, they are glad, Who for their corn-fields' plight sore sighed before; Even so the sons of Troy when they beheld There in their land Penthesileia dread Afire for battle, were exceeding glad; For when the heart is thrilled with hope of good, All smart of evils past is wiped away: So, after all his sighing and his pain, Gladdened a little while was Priam's soul. As when a man who hath suffered many a pang From blinded eyes, sore longing to behold The light, and, if he may not, fain would die, Then at the last, by a cunning leech's skill, Or by a God's grace, sees the dawn-rose flush, Sees the mist rolled back from before his eyes,-- Yea, though clear vision come not as of old, Yet, after all his anguish, joys to have Some small relief, albeit the stings of pain Prick sharply yet beneath his eyelids;--so Joyed the old king to see that terrible queen-- The shadowy joy of one in anguish whelmed For slain sons. Into his halls he led the Maid, And with glad welcome honoured her, as one Who greets a daughter to her home returned From a far country in the twentieth year; And set a feast before her, sumptuous As battle-glorious kings, who have brought low Nations of foes, array in splendour of pomp, With hearts in pride of victory triumphing. And gifts he gave her costly and fair to see, And pledged him to give many more, so she Would save the Trojans from the imminent doom. And she such deeds she promised as no man Had hoped for, even to lay Achilles low, To smite the wide host of the Argive men, And cast the brands red-flaming on the ships. Ah fool!--but little knew she him, the lord Of ashen spears, how far Achilles' might In warrior-wasting strife o'erpassed her own!

But when Andromache, the stately child Of king Eetion, heard the wild queen's vaunt, Low to her own soul bitterly murmured she: "Ah hapless! why with arrogant heart dost thou Speak such great swelling words? No strength is thine To grapple in fight with Peleus' aweless son. Nay, doom and swift death shall he deal to thee. Alas for thee! What madness thrills thy soul? Fate and the end of death stand hard by thee! Hector was mightier far to wield the spear Than thou, yet was for all his prowess slain, Slain for the bitter grief of Troy, whose folk The city through looked on him as a God. My glory and his noble parents' glory Was he while yet he lived--O that the earth Over my dead face had been mounded high, Or ever through his throat the breath of life Followed the cleaving spear! But now have I Looked--woe is me!--on grief unutterable, When round the city those fleet-footed steeds Haled him, steeds of Achilles, who had made Me widowed of mine hero-husband, made My portion bitterness through all my days."

So spake Eetion's lovely-ankled child Low to her own soul, thinking on her lord. So evermore the faithful-hearted wife Nurseth for her lost love undying grief.

Then in swift revolution sweeping round Into the Ocean's deep stream sank the sun, And daylight died. So when the banqueters Ceased from the wine-cup and the goodly feast, Then did the handmaids spread in Priam's halls For Penthesileia dauntless-souled the couch Heart-cheering, and she laid her down to rest; And slumber mist-like overveiled her eyes Shouted, a threat that could not be fulfilled: "Who shot at me a stealthy-smiting shaft? Let him but dare to meet me face to face! So shall his blood and all his bowels gush out About my spear, and he be hellward sped! I know that none can meet me man to man And quell in fight--of earth-born heroes none, Though such an one should bear within his breast A heart unquailing, and have thews of brass. But dastards still in stealthy ambush lurk For lives of heroes. Let him face me then!-- Ay! though he be a God whose anger burns Against the Danaans! Yea, mine heart forebodes That this my smiter was Apollo, cloaked In deadly darkness. So in days gone by My mother told me how that by his shafts I was to die before the Scaean Gates A piteous death. Her words were not vain words."

Then with unflinching hands from out the wound Incurable he drew the deadly shaft In agonized pain. Forth gushed the blood; his heart Waxed faint beneath the shadow of coming doom. Then in indignant wrath he hurled from him The arrow: a sudden gust of wind swept by, And caught it up, and, even as he trod Zeus' threshold, to Apollo gave it back; For it beseemed not that a shaft divine, Sped forth by an Immortal, should be lost. He unto high Olympus swiftly came, To the great gathering of immortal Gods, Where all assembled watched the war of men, These longing for the Trojans' triumph, those For Danaan victory; so with diverse wills Watched they the strife, the slayers and the slain.

So Hera spake, in bitterness of soul Upbraiding, but he answered her not a word, Of reverence for his mighty Father's bride; Nor could he lift his eyes to meet her eyes, But sat abashed, aloof from all the Gods Eternal, while in unforgiving wrath Scowled on him all the Immortals who maintained The Danaans' cause; but such as fain would bring Triumph to Troy, these with exultant hearts Extolled him, hiding it from Hera's eyes, Before whose wrath all Heaven-abiders shrank.

But Peleus' son the while forgat not yet War's fury: still in his invincible limbs The hot blood throbbed, and still he longed for fight. Was none of all the Trojans dared draw nigh The stricken hero, but at distance stood, As round a wounded lion hunters stand Mid forest-brakes afraid, and, though the shaft Stands in his heart, yet faileth not in him His royal courage, but with terrible glare Roll his fierce eyes, and roar his grimly jaws; So wrath and anguish of his deadly hurt To fury stung Peleides' soul; but aye His strength ebbed through the god-envenomed wound. Yet leapt he up, and rushed upon the foe, And flashed the lightning of his lance; it slew The goodly Orythaon, comrade stout Of Hector, through his temples crashing clear: His helm stayed not the long lance fury-sped Which leapt therethrough, and won within the bones The heart of the brain, and spilt his lusty life. Then stabbed he 'neath the brow Hipponous Even to the eye-roots, that the eyeball fell To earth: his soul to Hades flitted forth. Then through the jaw he pierced Alcathous, And shore away his tongue: in dust he fell Gasping his life out, and the spear-head shot Out through his ear. These, as they rushed on him, That hero slew; but many a fleer's life He spilt, for in his heart still leapt the blood.

But when his limbs grew chill, and ebbed away His spirit, leaning on his spear he stood, While still the Trojans fled in huddled rout Of panic, and he shouted unto them: "Trojan and Dardan cravens, ye shall not Even in my death, escape my merciless spear, But unto mine Avenging Spirits ye Shall pay--ay, one and all--destruction's debt!"

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