The Fall of Troy [98]
head. With him the slayer laid Eurydamas low, Antenor's gallant son-in-law, who most For prudence was pre-eminent in Troy. Then met he Ilioneus the elder of days, And flashed his terrible sword forth. All the limbs Of that grey sire were palsied with his fear: He put forth trembling hands, with one he caught The swift avenging sword, with one he clasped The hero's knees. Despite his fury of war, A moment paused his wrath, or haply a God Held back the sword a space, that that old man Might speak to his fierce foe one word of prayer. Piteously cried he, terror-overwhelmed: "I kneel before thee, whosoe'er thou be Of mighty Argives. Oh compassionate My suppliant hands! Abate thy wrath! To slay The young and valiant is a glorious thing; But if thou smite an old man, small renown Waits on thy prowess. Therefore turn from me Thine hands against young men, if thou dost hope Ever to come to grey hairs such as mine."
So spake he; but replied strong Tydeus' son: "Old man, I look to attain to honoured age; But while my Strength yet waxeth, will not I Spare any foe, but hurl to Hades all. The brave man makes an end of every foe."
Then through his throat that terrible warrior drave The deadly blade, and thrust it straight to where The paths of man's life lead by swiftest way Blood-paved to doom: death palsied his poor strength By Diomedes' hands. Thence rushed he on Slaying the Trojans, storming in his might All through their fortress: pierced by his long spear Eurycoon fell, Perimnestor's son renowned. Amphimedon Aias slew: Agamemnon smote Damastor's son: Idomeneus struck down Mimas: by Meges Deiopites died.
Achilles' son with his resistless lance Smote godlike Pammon; then his javelin pierced Polites in mid-rush: Antiphonus Dead upon these he laid, all Priam's sons. Agenor faced him in the fight, and fell: Hero on hero slew he; everywhere Stalked at his side Death's black doom manifest: Clad in his sire's might, whomso he met he slew. Last, on Troy's king in murderous mood he came. By Zeus the Hearth-lord's altar. Seeing him, Old Priam knew him and quaked not; for he longed Himself to lay his life down midst his sons; And craving death to Achilles' seed he spake: "Fierce-hearted son of Achilles strong in war, Slay me, and pity not my misery. I have no will to see the sun's light more, Who have suffered woes so many and so dread. With my sons would I die, and so forget Anguish and horror of war. Oh that thy sire Had slain me, ere mine eyes beheld aflame Illium, had slain me when I brought to him Ransom for Hector, whom thy father slew. He spared me -- so the Fates had spun my thread Of destiny. But thou, glut with my blood Thy fierce heart, and let me forget my pain." Answered Achilles' battle-eager son: "Fain am I, yea, in haste to grant thy prayer. A foe like thee will I not leave alive; For naught is dearer unto men than life."
With one stroke swept he off that hoary head Lightly as when a reaper lops an ear In a parched cornfield at the harvest-tide. With lips yet murmuring low it rolled afar From where with quivering limbs the body lay Amidst dark-purple blood and slaughtered men. So lay he, chiefest once of all the world In lineage, wealth, in many and goodly sons. Ah me, not long abides the honour of man, But shame from unseen ambush leaps on him So clutched him Doom, so he forgat his woes.
Yea, also did those Danaan car-lords hurl From a high tower the babe Astyanax, Dashing him out of life. They tore the child Out of his mother's arms, in wrathful hate Of Hector, who in life had dealt to them Such havoc; therefore hated they his seed, And down from that high rampart flung his child -- A wordless babe that nothing knew of war! As when amid the mountains hungry wolves Chase from the mother's side a suckling calf, And with malignant cunning drive it o'er An echoing cliffs edge, while runs to and fro Its dam with long moans mourning her dear child, And a new evil followeth hard on her, For suddenly lions seize her for a prey; So, as she agonized for her son, the foe To bondage haled with other captive thralls
So spake he; but replied strong Tydeus' son: "Old man, I look to attain to honoured age; But while my Strength yet waxeth, will not I Spare any foe, but hurl to Hades all. The brave man makes an end of every foe."
Then through his throat that terrible warrior drave The deadly blade, and thrust it straight to where The paths of man's life lead by swiftest way Blood-paved to doom: death palsied his poor strength By Diomedes' hands. Thence rushed he on Slaying the Trojans, storming in his might All through their fortress: pierced by his long spear Eurycoon fell, Perimnestor's son renowned. Amphimedon Aias slew: Agamemnon smote Damastor's son: Idomeneus struck down Mimas: by Meges Deiopites died.
Achilles' son with his resistless lance Smote godlike Pammon; then his javelin pierced Polites in mid-rush: Antiphonus Dead upon these he laid, all Priam's sons. Agenor faced him in the fight, and fell: Hero on hero slew he; everywhere Stalked at his side Death's black doom manifest: Clad in his sire's might, whomso he met he slew. Last, on Troy's king in murderous mood he came. By Zeus the Hearth-lord's altar. Seeing him, Old Priam knew him and quaked not; for he longed Himself to lay his life down midst his sons; And craving death to Achilles' seed he spake: "Fierce-hearted son of Achilles strong in war, Slay me, and pity not my misery. I have no will to see the sun's light more, Who have suffered woes so many and so dread. With my sons would I die, and so forget Anguish and horror of war. Oh that thy sire Had slain me, ere mine eyes beheld aflame Illium, had slain me when I brought to him Ransom for Hector, whom thy father slew. He spared me -- so the Fates had spun my thread Of destiny. But thou, glut with my blood Thy fierce heart, and let me forget my pain." Answered Achilles' battle-eager son: "Fain am I, yea, in haste to grant thy prayer. A foe like thee will I not leave alive; For naught is dearer unto men than life."
With one stroke swept he off that hoary head Lightly as when a reaper lops an ear In a parched cornfield at the harvest-tide. With lips yet murmuring low it rolled afar From where with quivering limbs the body lay Amidst dark-purple blood and slaughtered men. So lay he, chiefest once of all the world In lineage, wealth, in many and goodly sons. Ah me, not long abides the honour of man, But shame from unseen ambush leaps on him So clutched him Doom, so he forgat his woes.
Yea, also did those Danaan car-lords hurl From a high tower the babe Astyanax, Dashing him out of life. They tore the child Out of his mother's arms, in wrathful hate Of Hector, who in life had dealt to them Such havoc; therefore hated they his seed, And down from that high rampart flung his child -- A wordless babe that nothing knew of war! As when amid the mountains hungry wolves Chase from the mother's side a suckling calf, And with malignant cunning drive it o'er An echoing cliffs edge, while runs to and fro Its dam with long moans mourning her dear child, And a new evil followeth hard on her, For suddenly lions seize her for a prey; So, as she agonized for her son, the foe To bondage haled with other captive thralls