The Fall of Troy [74]
now from wall and gate-towers. Never lulled The rage of war, while Trojan hearts were hot To hurl the foemen back, and the strong Greeks To smite the town: grim havoc compassed all.
Then, eager for the Trojans' help, swooped down Out of Olympus, cloaked about with clouds, The son of Leto. Mighty rushing winds Bare him in golden armour clad; and gleamed With lightning-splendour of his descent the long Highways of air. His quiver clashed; loud rang The welkin; earth re-echoed, as he set His tireless feet by Xanthus. Pealed his shout Dreadly, with courage filling them of Troy, Scaring their foes from biding the red fray. But of all this the mighty Shaker of Earth Was ware: he breathed into the fainting Greeks Fierce valour, and the fight waxed murderous Through those Immortals' clashing wills. Then died Hosts numberless on either side. In wrath Apollo thought to smite Achilles' son In the same place where erst he smote his sire; But birds of boding screamed to left, to stay His mood, and other signs from heaven were sent; Yet was his wrath not minded to obey Those portents. Swiftly drew Earth-shaker nigh In mist celestial cloaked: about his feet Quaked the dark earth as came the Sea-king on. Then, to stay Phoebus' hand, he cried to him: "Refrain thy wrath: Achilles' giant son Slay not! Olympus' Lord himself shall be Wroth for his death, and bitter grief shall light On me and all the Sea-gods, as erstwhile For Achilles' sake. Nay, get thee back to heights Celestial, lest thou kindle me to wrath, And so I cleave a sudden chasm in earth, And Ilium and all her walls go down To darkness. Thine own soul were vexed thereat."
Then, overawed by the brother of his sire, And fearing for Troy's fate and for her folk, To heaven went back Apollo, to the sea Poseidon. But the sons of men fought on, And slew; and Strife incarnate gloating watched.
At last by Calchas' counsel Achaea's sons Drew back to the ships, and put from them the thought Of battle, seeing it was not foreordained That Ilium should fall until the might Of war-wise Philoctetes came to aid The Achaean host. This had the prophet learnt. From birds of prosperous omen, or had read In hearts of victims. Wise in prophecy-lore Was he, and like a God knew things to be.
Trusting in him, the sons of Atreus stayed Awhile the war, and unto Lemnos, land Of stately mansions, sent they Tydeus' son And battle-staunch Odysseus oversea. Fast by the Fire-god's city sped they on Over the broad flood of the Aegean Sea To vine-clad Lemnos, where in far-off days The wives wreaked murderous vengeance on their lords, In fierce wrath that they gave them not their due, But couched beside the handmaid-thralls of Thrace, The captives of their spears when they laid waste The land of warrior Thracians. Then these wives, Their hearts with fiery jealousy's fever filled, Murdered in every home with merciless hands Their husbands: no compassion would they show To their own wedded lords -- such madness shakes The heart of man or woman, when it burns With jealousy's fever, stung by torturing pangs. So with souls filled with desperate hardihood In one night did they slaughter all their lords; And on a widowed nation rose the sun.
To hallowed Lemnos came those heroes twain; They marked the rocky cave where lay the son Of princely Poeas. Horror came on them When they beheld the hero of their quest Groaning with bitter pangs, on the hard earth Lying, with many feathers round him strewn, And others round his body, rudely sewn Into a cloak, a screen from winter's cold. For, oft as famine stung him, would he shoot The shaft that missed no fowl his aim had doomed. Their flesh he ate, their feathers vestured him. And there lay herbs and healing leaves, the which, Spread on his deadly wound, assuaged its pangs. Wild tangled elf-locks hung about his head. He seemed a wild beast, that hath set its foot, Prowling by night, upon a hidden trap, And so hath been constrained in agony To bite with fierce teeth through the prisoned limb Ere it could win back to its cave, and there In hunger and torturing
Then, eager for the Trojans' help, swooped down Out of Olympus, cloaked about with clouds, The son of Leto. Mighty rushing winds Bare him in golden armour clad; and gleamed With lightning-splendour of his descent the long Highways of air. His quiver clashed; loud rang The welkin; earth re-echoed, as he set His tireless feet by Xanthus. Pealed his shout Dreadly, with courage filling them of Troy, Scaring their foes from biding the red fray. But of all this the mighty Shaker of Earth Was ware: he breathed into the fainting Greeks Fierce valour, and the fight waxed murderous Through those Immortals' clashing wills. Then died Hosts numberless on either side. In wrath Apollo thought to smite Achilles' son In the same place where erst he smote his sire; But birds of boding screamed to left, to stay His mood, and other signs from heaven were sent; Yet was his wrath not minded to obey Those portents. Swiftly drew Earth-shaker nigh In mist celestial cloaked: about his feet Quaked the dark earth as came the Sea-king on. Then, to stay Phoebus' hand, he cried to him: "Refrain thy wrath: Achilles' giant son Slay not! Olympus' Lord himself shall be Wroth for his death, and bitter grief shall light On me and all the Sea-gods, as erstwhile For Achilles' sake. Nay, get thee back to heights Celestial, lest thou kindle me to wrath, And so I cleave a sudden chasm in earth, And Ilium and all her walls go down To darkness. Thine own soul were vexed thereat."
Then, overawed by the brother of his sire, And fearing for Troy's fate and for her folk, To heaven went back Apollo, to the sea Poseidon. But the sons of men fought on, And slew; and Strife incarnate gloating watched.
At last by Calchas' counsel Achaea's sons Drew back to the ships, and put from them the thought Of battle, seeing it was not foreordained That Ilium should fall until the might Of war-wise Philoctetes came to aid The Achaean host. This had the prophet learnt. From birds of prosperous omen, or had read In hearts of victims. Wise in prophecy-lore Was he, and like a God knew things to be.
Trusting in him, the sons of Atreus stayed Awhile the war, and unto Lemnos, land Of stately mansions, sent they Tydeus' son And battle-staunch Odysseus oversea. Fast by the Fire-god's city sped they on Over the broad flood of the Aegean Sea To vine-clad Lemnos, where in far-off days The wives wreaked murderous vengeance on their lords, In fierce wrath that they gave them not their due, But couched beside the handmaid-thralls of Thrace, The captives of their spears when they laid waste The land of warrior Thracians. Then these wives, Their hearts with fiery jealousy's fever filled, Murdered in every home with merciless hands Their husbands: no compassion would they show To their own wedded lords -- such madness shakes The heart of man or woman, when it burns With jealousy's fever, stung by torturing pangs. So with souls filled with desperate hardihood In one night did they slaughter all their lords; And on a widowed nation rose the sun.
To hallowed Lemnos came those heroes twain; They marked the rocky cave where lay the son Of princely Poeas. Horror came on them When they beheld the hero of their quest Groaning with bitter pangs, on the hard earth Lying, with many feathers round him strewn, And others round his body, rudely sewn Into a cloak, a screen from winter's cold. For, oft as famine stung him, would he shoot The shaft that missed no fowl his aim had doomed. Their flesh he ate, their feathers vestured him. And there lay herbs and healing leaves, the which, Spread on his deadly wound, assuaged its pangs. Wild tangled elf-locks hung about his head. He seemed a wild beast, that hath set its foot, Prowling by night, upon a hidden trap, And so hath been constrained in agony To bite with fierce teeth through the prisoned limb Ere it could win back to its cave, and there In hunger and torturing