The Fall of Troy [109]
outrage down to them. And from on high the haughty Trito-born Looked down on all this, and her heart was glad.
But Aias floated now on a galley's plank, Now through the brine with strong hands oared his path, Like some old Titan in his tireless might. Cleft was the salt sea-surge by the sinewy hands Of that undaunted man: the Gods beheld And marvelled at his courage and his strength. But now the billows swung him up on high Through misty air, as though to a mountain's peak, Now whelmed him down, as they would bury him In ravening whirlpits: yet his stubborn hands Toiled on unwearied. Aye to right and left Flashed lightnings down, and quenched them in the sea; For not yet was the Child of Thunderer Zeus Purposed to smite him dead, despite her wrath, Ere he had drained the cup of travail and pain Down to the dregs; so in the deep long time Affliction wore him down, tormented sore On every side. Grim Fates stood round the man Unnumbered; yet despair still kindled strength. He cried: "Though all the Olympians banded come In wrath, and rouse against me all the sea, I will escape them!" But no whit did he Elude the Gods' wrath; for the Shaker of Earth In fierceness of his indignation marked Where his hands clung to the Gyraean Rock, And in stern anger with an earthquake shook Both sea and land. Around on all sides crashed Caphereus' cliffs: beneath the Sea-king's wrath The surf-tormented beaches shrieked and roared. The broad crag rifted reeled into the sea, The rock whereto his desperate hands had clung; Yet did he writhe up round its jutting spurs, While flayed his hands were, and from 'neath his nails The blood ran. Wrestling with him roared the waves, And the foam whitened all his hair and beard.
Yet had he 'scaped perchance his evil doom, Had not Poseidon, wroth with his hardihood, Cleaving the earth, hurled down the chasm the rock, As in the old time Pallas heaved on high Sicily, and on huge Enceladus Dashed down the isle, which burns with the burning yet Of that immortal giant, as he breathes Fire underground; so did the mountain-crag, Hurled from on high, bury the Locrian king, Pinning the strong man down, a wretch crushed flat. And so on him death's black destruction came Whom land and sea alike were leagued to slay.
Still over the great deep were swept the rest Of those Achaeans, crouching terror-dazed Down in the ships, save those that mid the waves Had fallen. Misery encompassed all; For some with heavily-plunging prows drave on, With keels upturned some drifted. Here were masts Snapped from the hull by rushing gusts, and there Were tempest-rifted wrecks of scattered beams; And some had sunk, whelmed in the mighty deep, Swamped by the torrent downpour from the clouds: For these endured not madness of wind-tossed sea Leagued with heaven's waterspout; for streamed the sky Ceaselessly like a river, while the deep Raved round them. And one cried: "Such floods on men Fell only when Deucalion's deluge came, When earth was drowned, and all was fathomless sea!"
So cried a Danaan, seeing soul-appalled That wild storm. Thousands perished; corpses thronged The great sea-highways: all the beaches were Too strait for them: the surf belched multitudes Forth on the land. The heavy-booming sea With weltering beams of ships was wholly paved, And here and there the grey waves gleamed between.
So found they each his several evil fate, Some whelmed beneath broad-rushing billows, some Wretchedly perishing with their shattered ships By Nauplius' devising on the rocks. Wroth for that son whom they had done to death, He; when the storm rose and the Argives died, Rejoiced amid his sorrow, seeing a God Gave to his hands revenge, which now he wreaked Upon the host he hated, as o'er the deep They tossed sore-harassed. To his sea-god sire He prayed that all might perish, ships and men Whelmed in the deep. Poseidon heard his prayer, And on the dark surge swept them nigh his land. He, like a harbour-warder, lifted high A blazing torch, and so by guile he trapped The Achaean men, who deemed that they had won A sheltering
But Aias floated now on a galley's plank, Now through the brine with strong hands oared his path, Like some old Titan in his tireless might. Cleft was the salt sea-surge by the sinewy hands Of that undaunted man: the Gods beheld And marvelled at his courage and his strength. But now the billows swung him up on high Through misty air, as though to a mountain's peak, Now whelmed him down, as they would bury him In ravening whirlpits: yet his stubborn hands Toiled on unwearied. Aye to right and left Flashed lightnings down, and quenched them in the sea; For not yet was the Child of Thunderer Zeus Purposed to smite him dead, despite her wrath, Ere he had drained the cup of travail and pain Down to the dregs; so in the deep long time Affliction wore him down, tormented sore On every side. Grim Fates stood round the man Unnumbered; yet despair still kindled strength. He cried: "Though all the Olympians banded come In wrath, and rouse against me all the sea, I will escape them!" But no whit did he Elude the Gods' wrath; for the Shaker of Earth In fierceness of his indignation marked Where his hands clung to the Gyraean Rock, And in stern anger with an earthquake shook Both sea and land. Around on all sides crashed Caphereus' cliffs: beneath the Sea-king's wrath The surf-tormented beaches shrieked and roared. The broad crag rifted reeled into the sea, The rock whereto his desperate hands had clung; Yet did he writhe up round its jutting spurs, While flayed his hands were, and from 'neath his nails The blood ran. Wrestling with him roared the waves, And the foam whitened all his hair and beard.
Yet had he 'scaped perchance his evil doom, Had not Poseidon, wroth with his hardihood, Cleaving the earth, hurled down the chasm the rock, As in the old time Pallas heaved on high Sicily, and on huge Enceladus Dashed down the isle, which burns with the burning yet Of that immortal giant, as he breathes Fire underground; so did the mountain-crag, Hurled from on high, bury the Locrian king, Pinning the strong man down, a wretch crushed flat. And so on him death's black destruction came Whom land and sea alike were leagued to slay.
Still over the great deep were swept the rest Of those Achaeans, crouching terror-dazed Down in the ships, save those that mid the waves Had fallen. Misery encompassed all; For some with heavily-plunging prows drave on, With keels upturned some drifted. Here were masts Snapped from the hull by rushing gusts, and there Were tempest-rifted wrecks of scattered beams; And some had sunk, whelmed in the mighty deep, Swamped by the torrent downpour from the clouds: For these endured not madness of wind-tossed sea Leagued with heaven's waterspout; for streamed the sky Ceaselessly like a river, while the deep Raved round them. And one cried: "Such floods on men Fell only when Deucalion's deluge came, When earth was drowned, and all was fathomless sea!"
So cried a Danaan, seeing soul-appalled That wild storm. Thousands perished; corpses thronged The great sea-highways: all the beaches were Too strait for them: the surf belched multitudes Forth on the land. The heavy-booming sea With weltering beams of ships was wholly paved, And here and there the grey waves gleamed between.
So found they each his several evil fate, Some whelmed beneath broad-rushing billows, some Wretchedly perishing with their shattered ships By Nauplius' devising on the rocks. Wroth for that son whom they had done to death, He; when the storm rose and the Argives died, Rejoiced amid his sorrow, seeing a God Gave to his hands revenge, which now he wreaked Upon the host he hated, as o'er the deep They tossed sore-harassed. To his sea-god sire He prayed that all might perish, ships and men Whelmed in the deep. Poseidon heard his prayer, And on the dark surge swept them nigh his land. He, like a harbour-warder, lifted high A blazing torch, and so by guile he trapped The Achaean men, who deemed that they had won A sheltering