The Fall of Troy [28]
earth that dwell! Him glorious Aias heavy-hearted mourned, Now wandering to the tent of Peleus' son, Now cast down all his length, a giant form, On the sea-sands; and thus lamented he: "Achilles, shield and sword of Argive men, Thou hast died in Troy, from Phthia's plains afar, Smitten unwares by that accursed shaft, Such thing as weakling dastards aim in fight! For none who trusts in wielding the great shield, None who for war can skill to set the helm Upon his brows, and sway the spear in grip, And cleave the brass about the breasts of foes, Warreth with arrows, shrinking from the fray. Not man to man he met thee, whoso smote; Else woundless never had he 'scaped thy lance! But haply Zeus purposed to ruin all, And maketh all our toil and travail vain -- Ay, now will grant the Trojans victory Who from Achaea now hath reft her shield! Ah me! how shall old Peleus in his halls Take up the burden of a mighty grief Now in his joyless age! His heart shall break At the mere rumour of it. Better so, Thus in a moment to forget all pain. But if these evil tidings slay him not, Ah, laden with sore sorrow eld shall come Upon him, eating out his heart with grief By a lone hearth Peleus so passing dear Once to the Blessed! But the Gods vouchsafe No perfect happiness to hapless men."
So he in grief lamented Peleus' son. Then ancient Phoenix made heart-stricken moan, Clasping the noble form of Aeacus' seed, And in wild anguish wailed the wise of heart: "Thou art reft from me, dear child, and cureless pain Hast left to me! Oh that upon my face The veiling earth had fallen, ere I saw Thy bitter doom! No pang more terrible Hath ever stabbed mine heart no, not that hour Of exile, when I fled from fatherland And noble parents, fleeing Hellas through, Till Peleus welcomed me with gifts, and lord Of his Dolopians made me. In his arms Thee through his halls one day he bare, and set Upon my knees, and bade me foster thee, His babe, with all love, as mine own dear child: I hearkened to him: blithely didst thou cling About mine heart, and, babbling wordless speech, Didst call me `father' oft, and didst bedew My breast and tunic with thy baby lips. Ofttimes with soul that laughed for glee I held Thee in mine arms; for mine heart whispered me `This fosterling through life shall care for thee, Staff of thine age shall be.' And that mine hope Was for a little while fulfilled; but now Thou hast vanished into darkness, and to me Is left long heart-ache wild with all regret. Ah, might my sorrow slay me, ere the tale To noble Peleus come! When on his ears Falleth the heavy tidings, he shall weep And wail without surcease. Most piteous grief We twain for thy sake shall inherit aye, Thy sire and I, who, ere our day of doom, Mourning shall go down to the grave for thee -- Ay, better this than life unholpen of thee!"
So moaned his ever-swelling tide of grief. And Atreus' son beside him mourned and wept With heart on fire with inly smouldering pain: "Thou hast perished, chiefest of the Danaan men, Hast perished, and hast left the Achaean host Fenceless! Now thou art fallen, are they left An easier prey to foes. Thou hast given joy To Trojans by thy fall, who dreaded thee As sheep a lion. These with eager hearts Even to the ships will bring the battle now. Zeus, Father, thou too with deceitful words Beguilest mortals! Thou didst promise me That Priam's burg should be destroyed; but now That promise given dost thou not fulfil, But thou didst cheat mine heart: I shall not win The war's goal, now Achilles is no more."
So did he cry heart-anguished. Mourned all round Wails multitudinous for Peleus' son: The dark ships echoed back the voice of grief, And sighed and sobbed the immeasurable air. And as when long sea-rollers, onward driven By a great wind, heave up far out at sea, And strandward sweep with terrible rush, and aye Headland and beach with shattered spray are scourged, And roar unceasing; so a dread sound rose Of moaning of the Danaans round the corse, Ceaselessly wailing Peleus' aweless son.
And on their mourning soon black night
So he in grief lamented Peleus' son. Then ancient Phoenix made heart-stricken moan, Clasping the noble form of Aeacus' seed, And in wild anguish wailed the wise of heart: "Thou art reft from me, dear child, and cureless pain Hast left to me! Oh that upon my face The veiling earth had fallen, ere I saw Thy bitter doom! No pang more terrible Hath ever stabbed mine heart no, not that hour Of exile, when I fled from fatherland And noble parents, fleeing Hellas through, Till Peleus welcomed me with gifts, and lord Of his Dolopians made me. In his arms Thee through his halls one day he bare, and set Upon my knees, and bade me foster thee, His babe, with all love, as mine own dear child: I hearkened to him: blithely didst thou cling About mine heart, and, babbling wordless speech, Didst call me `father' oft, and didst bedew My breast and tunic with thy baby lips. Ofttimes with soul that laughed for glee I held Thee in mine arms; for mine heart whispered me `This fosterling through life shall care for thee, Staff of thine age shall be.' And that mine hope Was for a little while fulfilled; but now Thou hast vanished into darkness, and to me Is left long heart-ache wild with all regret. Ah, might my sorrow slay me, ere the tale To noble Peleus come! When on his ears Falleth the heavy tidings, he shall weep And wail without surcease. Most piteous grief We twain for thy sake shall inherit aye, Thy sire and I, who, ere our day of doom, Mourning shall go down to the grave for thee -- Ay, better this than life unholpen of thee!"
So moaned his ever-swelling tide of grief. And Atreus' son beside him mourned and wept With heart on fire with inly smouldering pain: "Thou hast perished, chiefest of the Danaan men, Hast perished, and hast left the Achaean host Fenceless! Now thou art fallen, are they left An easier prey to foes. Thou hast given joy To Trojans by thy fall, who dreaded thee As sheep a lion. These with eager hearts Even to the ships will bring the battle now. Zeus, Father, thou too with deceitful words Beguilest mortals! Thou didst promise me That Priam's burg should be destroyed; but now That promise given dost thou not fulfil, But thou didst cheat mine heart: I shall not win The war's goal, now Achilles is no more."
So did he cry heart-anguished. Mourned all round Wails multitudinous for Peleus' son: The dark ships echoed back the voice of grief, And sighed and sobbed the immeasurable air. And as when long sea-rollers, onward driven By a great wind, heave up far out at sea, And strandward sweep with terrible rush, and aye Headland and beach with shattered spray are scourged, And roar unceasing; so a dread sound rose Of moaning of the Danaans round the corse, Ceaselessly wailing Peleus' aweless son.
And on their mourning soon black night