The Fall of Troy [7]
waster of tower and town. But on the grave-mound of Menoetius' son They twain were lying, with sad memories Of a dear comrade crushed, and echoing Each one the other's groaning. One it was Of the Blest Gods who still was holding back These from the battle-tumult far away, Till many Greeks should fill the measure up Of woeful havoc, slain by Trojan foes And glorious Penthesileia, who pursued With murderous intent their rifled ranks, While ever waxed her valour more and more, And waxed her might within her: never in vain She aimed the unswerving spear-thrust: aye she pierced The backs of them that fled, the breasts of such As charged to meet her. All the long shaft dripped With steaming blood. Swift were her feet as wind As down she swooped. Her aweless spirit failed For weariness nor fainted, but her might Was adamantine. The impending Doom, Which roused unto the terrible strife not yet Achilles, clothed her still with glory; still Aloof the dread Power stood, and still would shed Splendour of triumph o'er the death-ordained But for a little space, ere it should quell That Maiden 'neath the hands of Aeaeus' son. In darkness ambushed, with invisible hand Ever it thrust her on, and drew her feet Destruction-ward, and lit her path to death With glory, while she slew foe after foe. As when within a dewy garden-close, Longing for its green springtide freshness, leaps A heifer, and there rangeth to and fro, When none is by to stay her, treading down All its green herbs, and all its wealth of bloom, Devouring greedily this, and marring that With trampling feet; so ranged she, Ares' child, Through reeling squadrons of Achaea's sons, Slew these, and hunted those in panic rout.
From Troy afar the women marvelling gazed At the Maid's battle-prowess. Suddenly A fiery passion for the fray hath seized Antimachus' daughter, Meneptolemus' wife, Tisiphone. Her heart waxed strong, and filled With lust of fight she cried to her fellows all, With desperate-daring words, to spur them on To woeful war, by recklessness made strong. "Friends, let a heart of valour in our breasts Awake! Let us be like our lords, who fight With foes for fatherland, for babes, for us, And never pause for breath in that stern strife! Let us too throne war's spirit in our hearts! Let us too face the fight which favoureth none! For we, we women, be not creatures cast In diverse mould from men: to us is given Such energy of life as stirs in them. Eyes have we like to theirs, and limbs: throughout Fashioned we are alike: one common light We look on, and one common air we breathe: With like food are we nourished -- nay, wherein Have we been dowered of God more niggardly Than men? Then let us shrink not from the fray See ye not yonder a woman far excelling Men in the grapple of fight? Yet is her blood Nowise akin to ours, nor fighteth she For her own city. For an alien king She warreth of her own heart's prompting, fears The face of no man; for her soul is thrilled With valour and with spirit invincible. But we -- to right, to left, lie woes on woes About our feet: this mourns beloved sons, And that a husband who for hearth and home Hath died; some wail for fathers now no more; Some grieve for brethren and for kinsmen lost. Not one but hath some share in sorrow's cup. Behind all this a fearful shadow looms, The day of bondage! Therefore flinch not ye From war, O sorrow-laden! Better far To die in battle now, than afterwards Hence to be haled into captivity To alien folk, we and our little ones, In the stern grip of fate leaving behind A burning city, and our husbands' graves."
So cried she, and with passion for stern war Thrilled all those women; and with eager speed They hasted to go forth without the wall Mail-clad, afire to battle for their town And people: all their spirit was aflame. As when within a hive, when winter-tide Is over and gone, loud hum the swarming bees What time they make them ready forth to fare To bright flower-pastures, and no more endure To linger therewithin, but each to other Crieth the challenge-cry to sally forth; Even so bestirred
From Troy afar the women marvelling gazed At the Maid's battle-prowess. Suddenly A fiery passion for the fray hath seized Antimachus' daughter, Meneptolemus' wife, Tisiphone. Her heart waxed strong, and filled With lust of fight she cried to her fellows all, With desperate-daring words, to spur them on To woeful war, by recklessness made strong. "Friends, let a heart of valour in our breasts Awake! Let us be like our lords, who fight With foes for fatherland, for babes, for us, And never pause for breath in that stern strife! Let us too throne war's spirit in our hearts! Let us too face the fight which favoureth none! For we, we women, be not creatures cast In diverse mould from men: to us is given Such energy of life as stirs in them. Eyes have we like to theirs, and limbs: throughout Fashioned we are alike: one common light We look on, and one common air we breathe: With like food are we nourished -- nay, wherein Have we been dowered of God more niggardly Than men? Then let us shrink not from the fray See ye not yonder a woman far excelling Men in the grapple of fight? Yet is her blood Nowise akin to ours, nor fighteth she For her own city. For an alien king She warreth of her own heart's prompting, fears The face of no man; for her soul is thrilled With valour and with spirit invincible. But we -- to right, to left, lie woes on woes About our feet: this mourns beloved sons, And that a husband who for hearth and home Hath died; some wail for fathers now no more; Some grieve for brethren and for kinsmen lost. Not one but hath some share in sorrow's cup. Behind all this a fearful shadow looms, The day of bondage! Therefore flinch not ye From war, O sorrow-laden! Better far To die in battle now, than afterwards Hence to be haled into captivity To alien folk, we and our little ones, In the stern grip of fate leaving behind A burning city, and our husbands' graves."
So cried she, and with passion for stern war Thrilled all those women; and with eager speed They hasted to go forth without the wall Mail-clad, afire to battle for their town And people: all their spirit was aflame. As when within a hive, when winter-tide Is over and gone, loud hum the swarming bees What time they make them ready forth to fare To bright flower-pastures, and no more endure To linger therewithin, but each to other Crieth the challenge-cry to sally forth; Even so bestirred