RHESUS.:No brave man seeks so dastardly to harmHis battle-foes; he meets them arm to arm.
Ῥῆσος:οὐδεὶς ἀνὴρ εὔψυχος ἀξιοῖ λάθρᾳκτεῖναι τὸν ἐχθρόν, ἀλλʼ ἰὼν κατὰ στόμα.
This Greek of thine, this sitter like a thiefIn ambush, I will make of him my chiefCare. I will take him living, drive a straightStake through him, and so star him at the GateTo feed your wide-winged vultures.’Tis the deathMost meet for a lewd thief, who pillagethGod’s sanctuary, or so we hold in Thrace.HECTOR.: (making no answer)Seek first some sleep. There still remains a spaceOf darkness.—I will show the spot that bestMay suit you, somewhat sundered from the rest.
τοῦτον δʼ ὃν ἵζειν φὴς σὺ κλωπικὰς ἕδραςκαὶ μηχανᾶσθαι, ζῶντα συλλαβὼν ἐγὼπυλῶν ἐπʼ ἐξόδοισιν ἀμπείρας ῥάχινστήσω πετεινοῖς γυψὶ θοινατήριον.λῃστὴν γὰρ ὄντα καὶ θεῶν ἀνάκτορασυλῶντα δεῖ νιν τῷδε κατθανεῖν μόρῳ.Ἕκτωρ:νῦν μὲν καταυλίσθητε· καὶ γὰρ εὐφρόνη.δείξω δʼ ἐγώ σοι χῶρον, ἔνθα χρὴ στρατὸντὸν σὸν νυχεῦσαι τοῦ τεταγμένου δίχα.
Should need arise, the password of the nightIs Phoebus: see your Thracians have it right.Turning to the Guards before he goes.
ξύνθημα δʼ ἡμῖν Φοῖβος, ἤν τι καὶ δέῃ·μέμνησʼ ἀκούσας, Θρῃκί τʼ ἄγγειλον στρατῷ.
Advance beyond your stations, men, at someDistance, and stay on watch till Dolon comeWith word of the Argives’ counsel. If his vowProsper, he should be nearing us by now.Exeunt HECTOR and RHESUS and Attendants. The Guards, who have been below, come forward sleepily from the camp fire, and sit watching by HECTOR’S tent.
ὑμᾶς δὲ βάντας χρὴ προταινὶ τάξεωνφρουρεῖν ἐγερτὶ καὶ νεῶν κατάσκοπονδέχθαι Δόλωνα· καὶ γάρ, εἴπερ ἐστὶ σῶς,ἤδη πελάζει στρατοπέδοισι Τρωικοῖς.
CHORUS.:Say, whose is the watch? Who exchangesWith us? The first planets to riseAre setting; the Pleiades sevenMove low on the margin of heaven,And the Eagle is risen and rangesThe mid-vault of the skies.
Χορός:— τίνος ἁ φυλακά; τίς ἀμείβειτὰν ἐμάν; πρῶταδύεται σημεῖα καὶ ἑπτάποροιΠλειάδες αἰθέριαι· μέσα δʼ αἰετὸς οὐρανοῦ ποτᾶται.
ANOTHER.:No sleeping yet! Up from your couchesAnd watch on, the sluggards ye are!
— ἔγρεσθε, τί μέλλετε; κοιτᾶνἔγρεσθε πρὸς φυλακάν.
The moon-maiden’s lamp is yet burning.
οὐ λεύσσετε μηνάδος αἴγλαν;
THIRD GUARD.:Oh, the morning is near us, the morning!Even now his fore-runner approaches,Yon dim-shining star.DIVERS GUARDS.: (talking)Who drew the first night-watch?
— ἀὼς δὴ πέλας, ἀὼςγίγνεται, καί τις προδρόμωνὅδε γʼ ἐστὶν ἀστήρ.— τίς ἐκηρύχθη πρώτην φυλακήν;
ANOTHER.:’Twas one Koroibos, called the Mygdon’s Son.
— Μυγδόνος υἱόν φασι Κόροιβον.
THE GUARD.:And after?THE OTHER.:The Mount Taurus menHad second watch: from them againThe Mysians took it. We came then.
— τίς γὰρ ἐπʼ αὐτῷ; — Κίλικας Παίωνστρατὸς ἤγειρεν, Μυσοὶ δʼ ἡμᾶς.
A GUARD.:’Tis surely time. Who will go tellThe fifth watch?’Tis the Lycians’ spellBy now;’twas thus the portions fell.
— οὐκ οὖν Λυκίους πέμπτην φυλακὴνβάντας ἐγείρεινκαιρὸς κλήρου κατὰ μοῖραν;
ANOTHER.:Nay, hearken! Again she is cryingWhere death-laden Simois falls,Of the face of dead Itys that stunned her,Of grief grown to music and wonder:Most changeful and old and undyingThe nightingale calls.
Χορός:— καὶ μὴν ἀΐω· Σιμόεντοςἡμένα κοίταςφοινίας ὑμνεῖ πολυχορδοτάτᾳγήρυϊ παιδολέτωρ μελοποιὸν ἀηδονὶς μέριμναν.
ANOTHER.:And on Ida the shepherds are wakingTheir flocks for the upland. I hearThe skirl of a pipe very distant.
— ἤδη δὲ νέμουσι κατʼ Ἴδανποίμνια· νυκτιβρόμουσύριγγος ἰὰν κατακούω.
ANOTHER.:And sleep, it falls slow and insistent.’Tis perilous sweet when the breakingOf dawn is so near.DIVERS GUARDS: (talking).
— θέλγει δʼ ὄμματος ἕδρανὕπνος· ἅδιστος γὰρ ἔβαβλεφάροις πρὸς ἀοῦς.
Why have we still no word nor signOf that scout in the Argive line?
— τί ποτʼ οὐ πλάθει σκοπός, ὃν ναῶνἝκτωρ ὤτρυνε κατόπταν;
ANOTHER.:I know not; he is long delayed.
— ταρβῶ· χρόνιος γὰρ ἄπεστιν.
ANOTHER.:God send he trip not on the bladeOf some Greek in an ambuscade!ANOTHER.:It may be. I am half afraid.
— ἀλλʼ ἦ κρυπτὸν λόχον ἐσπαίσαςδιόλωλε; — τάχʼ ἄν. φοβερόν μοι.
LEADER.:Our time is past! Up, men, and tellThe fifth watch.’Tis the Lycians’ spellNow, as the portions fairly fell.The Guards pass out to waken the Lycians. The stage is empty and dark except for the firelight, when a whisper is heard at the back. Presently enter ODYSSEUS and DIOMEDE in dull leather armour, DIOMEDE carrying at his belt DOLON’S wolf-skin and mask.ODYSSEUS.:Diomede, hist!—A little sound of armsClanking... or am I full of void alarms?DIOMEDE.:No.’Tis some horse tied to the chariot railThat clanks his chain.—My heart began to failA moment, till I heard the horse’s champ.They steal on further, keeping in the shadow.
— αὐδῶ Λυκίους πέμπτην φυλακὴνβάντας ἐγείρεινἡμᾶς κλήρου κατὰ μοῖραν.Ὀδυσσεύς:Διόμηδες, οὐκ ἤκουσας — ἢ κενὸς ψόφοςστάζει διʼ ὤτων; — τευχέων τινὰ κτύπον;Διομήδης:οὔκ, ἀλλὰ δεσμὰ πωλικῶν ἐξ ἀντύγωνκλάζει σιδήρου· κἀμέ τοι, πρὶν ᾐσθόμηνδεσμῶν ἀραγμὸν ἱππικῶν, ἔδυ φόβος.
ODYSSEUS.:Mind—in that shade—the watchers of the camp.
Ὀδυσσεύς:ὅρα κατʼ ὄρφνην μὴ φύλαξιν ἐντύχῃς.
DIOMEDE.:I keep in shadow, but I am staring hard.
Διομήδης:φυλάξομαί τοι κἀν σκότῳ τιθεὶς πόδα.
ODYSSEUS.:Thou know’st the watchword, if we stir some guard?
Ὀδυσσεύς:ἢν δʼ οὖν ἐγείρῃς, οἶσθα σύνθημα στρατοῦ;
DIOMEDE.:Phoebus.’Twas the last sign that Dolon gave.They creep forward in silence to the entrance of HECTOR’S tent.
Διομήδης:⟨Φοῖβον⟩ Δόλωνος οἶδα σύμβολον κλύων.
ODYSSEUS.:Now, forward!They dash into the tent, swords drawn; then return.God! All empty as the grave!
Ὀδυσσεύς:ἔα·εὐνὰς ἐρήμους τάσδε πολεμίων ὁρῶ.
DIOMEDE.:Yet Dolon told us Hector’s couch was madeJust here. For none but him I drew this blade.
Διομήδης:καὶ μὴν Δόλων γε τάσδʼ ἔφραζεν Ἕκτοροςκοίτας, ἐφʼ ᾧπερ ἔγχος εἵλκυσται τόδε.
ODYSSEUS.:What means it? To some ambush is he gone?
Ὀδυσσεύς:τί δῆτʼ ἂν εἴη; μῶν λόχος βέβηκέ ποι;
DIOMEDE.:Maybe, to work some craft on us at dawn.
Διομήδης:ἴσως ἐφʼ ἡμῖν μηχανὴν στήσων τινά.
ODYSSEUS.:He is hot with courage when he is winning, hot.
Ὀδυσσεύς:θρασὺς γὰρ Ἕκτωρ νῦν, ἐπεὶ κρατεῖ, θρασύς.
DIOMEDE.:What must we do, Odysseus?—He was notLaid where we thought him, and our hopes are lost.
Διομήδης:τί δῆτʼ, Ὀδυσσεῦ, δρῶμεν; οὐ γὰρ ηὕρομεντὸν ἄνδρʼ ἐν εὐναῖς, ἐλπίδων δʼ ἡμάρτομεν.
ODYSSEUS.:Back to our own ship-rampart at all cost!
Ὀδυσσεύς:στείχωμεν ὡς τάχιστα ναυστάθμων πέλας.
The God who gave him victory saves him still.We cannot force Fortune against her will.
σῴζει γὰρ αὐτὸν ὅστις εὐτυχῆ θεῶντίθησιν· ἡμῖν δʼ οὐ βιαστέον τύχην.
DIOMEDE.:Could we not find Aeneas? Or the bedOf Paris the accurst, and have his head?
Διομήδης:οὐκ οὖν ἐπʼ Αἰνέαν ἢ τὸν ἔχθιστον ΦρυγῶνΠάριν μολόντε χρὴ καρατομεῖν ξίφει;
ODYSSEUS.:Go by night searching through these lines of menFor chiefs to kill?’Twere death and death again.
Ὀδυσσεύς:πῶς οὖν ἐν ὄρφνῃ πολεμίων ἀνὰ στρατὸνζητῶν δυνήσῃ τούσδʼ ἀκινδύνως κτανεῖν;
DIOMEDE.:But to go empty back—what shame ’twill be!—And not one blow struck home at the enemy!
Διομήδης:αἰσχρόν γε μέντοι ναῦς ἐπʼ Ἀργείων μολεῖνδράσαντε μηδὲν πολεμίους νεώτερον.
ODYSSEUS.:How not one blow? Did we not baulk and killDolon, their spy, and bear his tokens still?Dost think the whole camp should be thine to quell?DIOMEDE takes DOLON’S wolf-mask off his belt and hangs it in HECTOR’S tent, then turns.
Ὀδυσσεύς:πῶς δʼ οὐ δέδρακας; οὐ κτανόντε ναυστάθμωνκατάσκοπον Δόλωνα σῴζομεν τάδεσκυλεύματʼ; ἢ πᾶν στρατόπεδον πέρσειν δοκεῖς;
DIOMEDE.:Good. Now for home! And may the end be well!As they turn there appears at the back a luminous and gigantic shape, the Goddess ATHENA.
Διομήδης:πείθεις, πάλιν στείχωμεν· εὖ δʼ εἴη τυχεῖν.
ATHENA.:What make ye, from these sleepers thus to partDesponding and with sorrow-wounded heartIf Hector be not granted you to slayNor Paris? Little know ye what great stayOf help is found for Troy. This very nightRhesus is come; who, if he see the lightOf morning, not Achilles nor the rackOf Ajax’ spear hath power to hold him back,Ere wall and gate be shattered and insideYour camp a spear-swept causeway builded wideTo where beached galleys flame above the dead.
Ἀθήνα:ποῖ δὴ λιπόντες Τρωικῶν ἐκ τάξεωνχωρεῖτε, λύπῃ καρδίαν δεδηγμένοι,εἰ μὴ κτανεῖν σφῷν Ἕκτορʼ ἢ Πάριν θεὸςδίδωσιν; ἄνδρα δʼ οὐ πέπυσθε σύμμαχονΤροίᾳ μολόντα Ῥῆσον οὐ φαύλῳ τρόπῳ.ὃς εἰ διοίσει νύκτα τήνδʼ ἐς αὔριον,οὔτε σφʼ Ἀχιλλεὺς οὔτʼ ἂν Αἴαντος δόρυμὴ πάντα πέρσαι ναύσταθμʼ Ἀργείων σχέθοι,τείχη κατασκάψαντα καὶ πυλῶν ἔσωλόγχῃ πλατεῖαν ἐσδρομὴν ποιούμενον.
Him slay, and all is won. Let Hector’s headSleep where it lies and draw unvexèd breath;
τοῦτον κατακτὰς πάντʼ ἔχεις. τὰς δʼ Ἕκτοροςεὐνὰς ἔασον καὶ καρατόμους σφαγάς·
Another’s work, not thine, is Hector’s death.
ἔσται γὰρ αὐτῷ θάνατος ἐξ ἄλλης χερός.
ODYSSEUS.:Most high Athena, well I know the soundOf that immortal voice.’Tis ever foundMy helper in great perils.—Where doth lieRhesus, mid all this host of Barbary?
Ὀδυσσεύς:δέσποινʼ Ἀθάνα, φθέγματος γὰρ ᾐσθόμηντοῦ σοῦ συνήθη γῆρυν· ἐν πόνοισι γὰρπαροῦσʼ ἀμύνεις τοῖς ἐμοῖς ἀεί ποτε·τὸν ἄνδρα δʼ ἡμῖν, ποῦ κατηύνασται, φράσον·πόθεν τέτακται βαρβάρου στρατεύματος;
ATHENA.:Full near he lies, not mingled with the hostOf Troy, but here beyond the lines—a postOf quiet till the dawn, that Hector found.
Ἀθήνα:ὅδʼ ἐγγὺς ἧσται κοὐ συνήθροισται στρατῷ,ἀλλʼ ἐκτὸς αὐτὸν τάξεων κατηύνασενἝκτωρ, ἕως ἂν νὺξ ἀμείψηται φάος.
And near him, by his Thracian chariot bound,Two snow-white coursers gleam against the wanMoon, like the white wing of a river swan.
πέλας δὲ πῶλοι Θρῃκίων ἐξ ἁρμάτωνλευκαὶ δέδενται, διαπρεπεῖς ἐν εὐφρόνῃ·στίλβουσι δʼ ὥστε ποταμίου κύκνου πτερόν.
Their master slain, take these to thine own hearth,A wondrous spoil; there hides not upon earthA chariot-team of war so swift and fair.
ταύτας, κτανόντες δεσπότην, κομίζετε,κάλλιστον οἴκοις σκῦλον· οὐ γὰρ ἔσθʼ ὅπουτοιόνδʼ ὄχημα χθὼν κέκευθε πωλικόν.
ODYSSEUS.:Say, Diomede, wilt make the men thy share,Or catch the steeds and leave the fight to me?
Ὀδυσσεύς:Διόμηδες, ἢ σὺ κτεῖνε Θρῄκιον λεών,ἢ ʼμοὶ πάρες γε, σοὶ δὲ χρὴ πώλους μέλειν.
DIOMEDE.:I take the killing, thou the stablery:
Διομήδης:ἐγὼ φονεύσω, πωλοδαμνήσεις δὲ σύ·
It needs keen wit and a neat hand. The postA man should take is where he helpeth most.
τρίβων γὰρ εἶ τὰ κομψὰ καὶ νοεῖν σοφός.χρὴ δʼ ἄνδρα τάσσειν οὗ μάλιστʼ ἂν ὠφελοῖ.
ATHENA.:Behold,’tis Paris, hasting there towardThis tent. Methinks he knoweth from the guardSome noise of prowling Argives hither blown.
Ἀθήνα:καὶ μὴν καθʼ ἡμᾶς τόνδʼ Ἀλέξανδρον βλέπωστείχοντα, φυλάκων ἔκ τινος πεπυσμένονδόξας ἀσήμους πολεμίων μεμβλωκότων.
DIOMEDE.:Comes he alone or with his guards?
Διομήδης:πότερα σὺν ἄλλοις ἢ μόνος πορεύεται;
ATHENA.:Alone;Toward Hector’s quarters, as I deem, he pliesHis message. He hath heard some tale of spies.
Ἀθήνα:μόνος· πρὸς εὐνὰς δʼ, ὡς ἔοικεν, Ἕκτοροςχωρεῖ, κατόπτας σημανῶν ἥκειν στρατοῦ.
DIOMEDE.:Then he shall be the first dead Trojan!
Διομήδης:οὐκ οὖν ὑπάρχειν τόνδε κατθανόντα χρή;
ATHENA.:No;Beyond the ordainèd end thou canst not go.
Ἀθήνα:οὐκ ἂν δύναιο τοῦ πεπρωμένου πλέον.
Fate hath not willed that Paris by thy deedShall die; it is another who must bleedTo-night. Therefore be swift!Exeunt ODYSSEUS and DIOMEDE.For me, my guiseShall melt and change in Alexander’s eyes,Yea, till he dream ’tis Cypris, his delightAnd help in need, that meets him in the night,And soft shall be my words to him I hate.
τοῦτον δὲ πρὸς σῆς χειρὸς οὐ θέμις θανεῖν.ἀλλʼ ᾧπερ ἥκεις μορσίμους φέρων σφαγάς,τάχυνʼ· ἐγὼ δέ, τῷδε σύμμαχος Κύπριςδοκοῦσʼ ἀρωγὸς ἐν πόνοις παραστατεῖν,σαθροῖς λόγοισιν ἐχθρὸν ἄνδρʼ ἀμείψομαι.
So speak I; but on whom my spell is setHe hears not, sees not, though so near I stand.She becomes invisible where she stands. Enter PARIS.
καὶ ταῦτʼ ἐγὼ μὲν εἶπον· ὃν δὲ χρὴ παθεῖν,οὐκ οἶδεν οὐδʼ ἤκουσεν ἐγγὺς ὢν λόγου.
PARIS.:Ho, Hector! Brother! General of the land!Sleepest thou still? We need thy waking sight.
Ἀλέξανδρος:σὲ τὸν στρατηγὸν καὶ κασίγνητον λέγω,Ἕκτορ, καθεύδεις; οὐκ ἐγείρεσθαί σε χρῆν;
Our guards have marked some prowler of the night,We know not if a mere thief or a spy.ATHENA becomes visible again, but seems changed and her voice softer.
ἐχθρῶν τις ἡμῖν χρίμπτεται στρατεύματι,ἢ κλῶπες ἄνδρες ἢ κατάσκοποί τινες.
ATHENA.:Have comfort thou! Doth not the Cyprian’s eyeMark all thy peril and keep watch aboveThy battles? How shall I forget the loveI owe thee, and thy faithful offices?
Ἀθήνα:θάρσει· φυλάσσει σʼ ἥδε πρευμενὴς Κύπρις.μέλει δʼ ὁ σός μοι πόλεμος, οὐδʼ ἀμνημονῶτιμῆς, ἐπαινῶ δʼ εὖ παθοῦσα πρὸς σέθεν.
To crown this day and all its victories,Lo, I have guided here to Troy a strongHelper, the scion of the Muse of songAnd Strymon’s flood, the crownèd stream of Thrace.PARIS.: (standing like one in a dream)Indeed thy love is steadfast, and thy graceBounteous to Troy and me. Thou art the joyAnd jewel of my days, which I to TroyHave brought, and made thee hers.—O Cyprian,I heard, not clearly,—’twas some talk that ranAmong the pickets—spies had passed some spotClose by the camp. The men who saw them notTalk much, and they who saw, or might have seen,Can give no sign nor token. It had beenMy purpose to find Hector where he lay.
καὶ νῦν ἐπʼ εὐτυχοῦντι Τρωικῷ στρατῷἥκω πορεύουσʼ ἄνδρα σοι μέγαν φίλον,τῆς ὑμνοποιοῦ παῖδα Θρῄκιον θεᾶςΜούσης· πατρὸς δὲ Στρυμόνος κικλήσκεται.Ἀλέξανδρος:αἰεί ποτʼ εὖ φρονοῦσα τυγχάνεις πόλεικἀμοί, μέγιστον δʼ ἐν βίῳ κειμήλιονκρίνας σέ φημι τῇδε προσθέσθαι πόλει.ἥκω δʼ ἀκούσας οὐ τορῶς — φήμη δέ τιςφύλαξιν ἐμπέπτωκεν — ὡς κατάσκοποιἥκουσʼ Ἀχαιῶν. χὣ μὲν οὐκ ἰδὼν λέγει,ὃ δʼ εἰσιδὼν μολόντας οὐκ ἔχει φράσαι·ὧν οὕνεκʼ εὐνὰς ἤλυθον πρὸς Ἕκτορος.
ATHENA.:Fear nothing. All is well in Troy’s array.
Ἀθήνα:μηδὲν φοβηθῇς· οὐδὲν ἐν στρατῷ νέον·
Hector is gone to help those Thracians sleep.
Ἕκτωρ δὲ φροῦδος Θρῇκα κοιμήσων στρατόν.
PARIS.:Thy word doth rule me, Goddess. Yea, so deepMy trust is, that all thought of fear is lostIn comfort, and I turn me to my post.
Ἀλέξανδρος:σύ τοί με πείθεις, σοῖς δὲ πιστεύων λόγοιςτάξιν φυλάξων εἶμʼ ἐλεύθερος φόβου.
ATHENA.:Go. And remember that thy fortunes stillAre watched by me, and they who do my willProsper in all their ways. Aye, thou shalt proveEre long, if I can care for those I love.Exit PARIS. She raises her voice.Back, back, ye twain! Are ye in love with death?
Ἀθήνα:χώρει· μέλειν γὰρ πάντʼ ἐμοὶ δόκει τὰ σά,ὥστʼ εὐτυχοῦντας συμμάχους ἐμοὺς ὁρᾶν.γνώσῃ δὲ καὶ σὺ τὴν ἐμὴν προθυμίαν.ὑμᾶς δʼ ἀυτῶ τοὺς ἄγαν ἐρρωμένους,Λαερτίου παῖ, θηκτὰ κοιμίσαι ξίφη.
Laertes’ son, thy sword into the sheath!Our golden Thracian gaspeth in his blood;The steeds are ours; the foe hath understoodAnd crowds against you. Haste ye! haste to fly,—Ere yet the lightning falleth, and ye die! ATHENA vanishes; a noise of tumult is heard. Enter a crowd of Thracians running in confusion, in the midst of them ODYSSEUS and DIOMEDE.VOICES.: (amid the tumult)Ha! Ha!—At them! At them! After them! Downwith them!—Where are they?
κεῖται γὰρ ἡμῖν Θρῄκιος στρατηλάτης,ἵπποι τʼ ἔχονται, πολέμιοι δʼ ᾐσθημένοιχωροῦσʼ ἐφʼ ὑμᾶς· ἀλλʼ ὅσον τάχιστα χρὴφεύγειν πρὸς ὁλκοὺς ναυστάθμων. τί μέλλετεσκηπτοῦ ʼπιόντος πολεμίων σῷσαι βίον;Χορός:— ἔα ἔα·βάλε βάλε βάλε βάλε.θένε θένε.
CAPTAIN.:Who is that fellow? Look! That yonder!
— τίς ἁνήρ; λεύσσετε· τοῦτον αὐδῶ.
A MAN.:Rascal thieves, the sort that crawlAnd vex an army in the dark!
— κλῶπες οἵτινες κατʼ ὄρφνην τόνδε κινοῦσι στρατόν.
CAPTAIN.:Ho, this way! Follow! This way all!They pursue ODYSSEUS and DIOMEDE; catch them and bring them back.A MAN.:I have them! I have caught them!CAPTAIN: (to ODYSSEUS).Whence comest thou? What art thou? Say; what captain and what company?ODYSSEUS: (indignantly).’Tis not for thee to know. This day thou diest for thy knavery!
— δεῦρο δεῦρο πᾶς.— τούσδʼ ἔχω, τούσδʼ ἔμαρψα.— τίς ὁ λόχος; πόθεν ἔβας; ποδαπὸς εἶ;Ὀδυσσεύς:οὔ σε χρὴ εἰδέναι· θανῇ γὰρ σήμερον δράσας κακῶς.
CAPTAIN.:Stop! Give the watchword quick, before I have thy body on my pike.ODYSSEUS: (in a tone of authority).
Χορός:οὐκ ἐρεῖς ξύνθημα, λόγχην πρὶν διὰ στέρνων μολεῖν;
Halt every man and have no fear!CAPTAIN.:Come, gather round. Be quick to strike.ODYSSEUS: (to CAPTAIN).
Ὀδυσσεύς:ἵστω. θάρσει.Χορός:πέλας ἴθι. παῖε πᾶς.
’Twas thou that killed King Rhesus!CAPTAIN.:No:’tis I that kill the man that killed...Flies at ODYSSEUS, but other men hold him back.ODYSSEUS.:Hold back all!VOICES.:No more holding back!ODYSSEUS: (as they attack him).What, strike an ally in the field?
Ὀδυσσεύς:ἦ σὺ δὴ Ῥῆσον κατέκτας;Χορός:ἀλλὰ τὸν κτενοῦντα σὲ …Ὀδυσσεύς:ἴσχε πᾶς τις.Χορός:οὐ μὲν οὖν.Ὀδυσσεύς:ἆ· φίλιον ἄνδρα μὴ θένῃς.
CAPTAIN.:Then give the watchword!ODYSSEUS.:Phoebus.CAPTAIN.:Right. Ho, every man hold back his spear!—Then know’st thou where the men are gone?ODYSSEUS.:We saw them running, somewhere here.He makes off into the darkness. DIOMEDE follows, and some Thracians.
Χορός:καὶ τί δὴ τὸ σῆμα;Ὀδυσσεύς:Φοῖβος.Χορός:ἔμαθον· ἴσχε πᾶς δόρυ.οἶσθʼ ὅποι βεβᾶσιν ἅνδρες;Ὀδυσσεύς:τῇδέ πῃ κατείδομεν.
CAPTAIN.:Off every one upon their track!A MAN.:Or should we rouse the army?
Χορός:ἕρπω πᾶς κατʼ ἴχνος αὐτῶν. ἢ βοὴν ἐγερτέον;
CAPTAIN.:No;To stir the allies in the night and make more panic!Let us go.The Thracians go off in pursuit. Meantime the original Guards who form the Chorus have hastened back. The two Greeks are presently seen crossing at the back in a different direction.CHORUS.:Who was the man that passed?Who, that, so madly bold,Even as I held him fast,Laughed, and I loosed my hold?Where shall I find him now?What shall I deem of him,To steal thro’ the guards a-row,Quaking not, eye nor limb,On thro’ the starlight dim?
ἀλλὰ συμμάχους ταράσσειν δεινὸν ἐκ νυκτῶν φόβῳ.Χορός:—τίς ἀνδρῶν ὁ βάς;τίς ὁ μέγα θρασὺς ἐπεύξεταιχέρα φυγὼν ἐμάν;πόθεν νιν κυρήσω;τίνι προσεικάσω,ὅστις διʼ ὄρφνης ἦλθʼ ἀδειμάντῳ ποδὶδιά τε τάξεων καὶ φυλάκων ἕδρας;
Is he of Thessaly,Born by the Locrian sea,Or harvester of some starved island’s corn?
Θεσσαλὸς ἢπαραλίαν Λοκρῶν νεμόμενος πόλιν;ἢ νησιώτην σποράδα κέκτηται βίον;
What man hath seen his face?What was his name or race,What the high God by whom his sires have sworn?DIVERS GUARDS: (talking).
τίς ἦν; πόθεν; ποίας πάτρας;ποῖον δʼ εὔχεται τὸν ὕπατον θεῶν;
This night must be Odysseus’ work, or whose?—Odysseus? Aye, to judge by ancient use.—Odysseus surely!—That is thy belief?—What else? It seems he hath no fearOf such as we!—Whom praise ye there?Whose prowess? Say!—Odysseus.—Nay,Praise not the secret stabbing of a thief!
— ἆρʼ ἔστʼ Ὀδυσσέως τοὔργον ἢ τίνος τόδε;εἰ τοῖς πάροιθε χρὴ τεκμαίρεσθαι· τί μήν;— δοκεῖς γάρ; — τί μὴν οὔ;— θρασὺς γοῦν ἐς ἡμᾶς.— τίνʼ ἀλκήν; τίνʼ αἰνεῖς; — Ὀδυσσῆ.— μὴ κλωπὸς αἴνει φωτὸς αἱμύλον δόρυ.
CHORUS.:He came once, of old,Up thro’ the city throng,Foam on his lips, a-cold,Huddled in rags that hungCovering just the swordHid in his mantle’s pleat;
Χορός:ἔβα καὶ πάροςκατὰ πόλιν, ὕπαφρον ὄμμʼ ἔχων,ῥακοδύτῳ στολᾷπυκασθείς, ξιφήρηςκρύφιος ἐν πέπλοις.
His face grimed and scored,A priest of wandering feet,Who begged his bread in the street.Many and evil thingsHe cast on the brother kingsLike one long hurt, who nurseth anger sore;Would that a curse, yea, wouldThe uttermost wrath of GodHad held those feet from walking Ilion’s shore!DIVERS GUARDS: (talking).
βίον δʼ ἐπαιτῶν εἷρπʼ ἀγύρτης τις λάτρις,ψαφαρόχρουν κάρα πολυπινές τʼ ἔχων·πολλὰ δὲ τὰνβασιλίδʼ ἑστίαν Ἀτρειδᾶν κακῶςἔβαζε δῆθεν ἐχθρὸς ὢν στρατηλάταις.ὄλοιτʼ ὄλοιτο πανδίκως,πρὶν ἐπὶ γᾶν Φρυγῶν ποδὸς ἴχνος βαλεῖν.
Odysseus or another,’tis the guardWill weep for this. Aye, Hector will be hard.—What will he say?—He will suspect.—Suspect?
— εἴτʼ οὖν Ὀδυσσέως εἴτε μή, φόβος μʼ ἔχει·Ἕκτωρ γὰρ ἡμῖν τοῖς φύλαξι μέμψεται.— τί λάσκων; — δυσοίζων.
What evil? What should make you fear?—’Twas we that left a passage clear.—A passage?—Yea, for these men’s way,Who came by night into the lines unchecked.A sound of moaning outside in the darkness, which has been heard during the last few lines, now grows into articulate words.
— τί δρᾶσαι; τί ταρβεῖς;— καθʼ ἡμᾶς περᾶσαι … — τίνʼ ἀνδρῶν;— οἳ τῆσδε νυκτὸς ἦλθον ἐς Φρυγῶν στρατόν.
VOICE.:Woe, woe!The burden of the wrath of fate!
Ἡνίοχος:ἰὼ, ἰώ, δαίμονος τύχα βαρεῖα. φεῦ φεῦ.
GUARDS.:Ha, listen! Wait.
Χορός:ἔα, ἔα·
Crouch on the ground; it may be yetOur man is drawing to the net.
σῖγα πᾶς ὕφιζʼ· ἴσως γὰρ ἐς βόλον τις ἔρχεται.
VOICE.:Woe, woe!The burden of the hills of Thrace!LEADER.:An ally? None of Hellene race.
Ἡνίοχος:ἰὼ ἰώ,συμφορὰ βαρεῖα Θρῃκῶν.Χορός:συμμάχων τις ὁ στένων.
VOICE.:Woe, woe!Yea, woe to me and woe to thee,My master! Once to set thine eyeOn Ilion the accurst, and die!LEADER: (calling aloud).
Ἡνίοχος:ἰὼ ἰώ,δύστηνος ἐγώ· σύ τʼ, ἄναξ Θρῃκῶν,ὦ στυγνοτάτην Τροίαν ἐσιδών,οἷόν σε βίου τέλος εἷλεν.
Ho there! What ally passes? The dim nightBlurreth mine eyes; I cannot see thee right.
Χορός:τίς εἶ ποτʼ ἀνδρῶν συμμάχων; κατʼ εὐφρόνηνἀμβλῶπες αὐγαὶ κοὔ σε γιγνώσκω τορῶς.
VOICE.:Ho, some one of the Trojan name!
Ἡνίοχος:ποῦ τινʼ ἀνάκτων Τρωικῶν εὕρω;
Where sleeps your king beneath his shield,Hector? What marshal of the fieldWill hear our tale... the men who cameAnd struck us and were gone; and we,We woke and there was nought to see,But our own misery.
ποῦ δῆθʼ Ἕκτωρτὸν ὑπασπίδιον κοῖτον ἰαύει;τίνι σημήνω διόπων στρατιᾶςοἷα πεπόνθαμεν, οἷά τις ἡμᾶςδράσας ἀφανῆ φροῦδος, φανερὸνΘρῃξὶν πένθος τολυπεύσας;
LEADER.:I cannot hear him right; it sounds as ifThe Thracians were surprised or in some grief.There enters a wounded man, walking with difficulty; he is the Thracian Charioteer who came with RHESUS.
Χορός:κακὸν κυρεῖν τι Θρῃκίῳ στρατεύματιἔοικεν, οἷα τοῦδε γιγνώσκω κλύων.
THRACIAN.:The army lost and the king slain,Stabbed in the dark! Ah, pain! pain!
Ἡνίοχος:ἔρρει στρατιά, πέπτωκεν ἄναξδολίῳ πληγῇ.
This deep raw wound... Oh, let me dieBy thy side, Master, by thy side!In shame together let us lieWho came to save, and failed and died.
ἆ ἆ ἆ ἆ,οἵα μʼ ὀδύνη τείρει φονίουτραύματος εἴσω. πῶς ἂν ὀλοίμην;χρῆν γάρ μʼ ἀκλεῶς Ῥῆσόν τε θανεῖν,Τροίᾳ κέλσαντʼ ἐπίκουρον;
LEADER.:This needs no surmise:’tis disaster plainThat comes. He speaketh of some ally slain.
Χορός:τάδʼ οὐκ ἐν αἰνιγμοῖσι σημαίνει κακά·σαφῶς γὰρ αὐδᾷ συμμάχους ὀλωλότας.
THRACIAN.:Disaster, yea: and with disaster shame,Which lights Disaster to a twofold flameOf evil. For to die in soldier’s wise,Since die we needs must... though the man who diesHath pain... to all his house ’tis praise and pride;
Ἡνίοχος:κακῶς πέπρακται κἀπὶ τοῖς κακοῖσι πρὸςαἴσχιστα· καίτοι δὶς τόσον κακὸν τόδε·θανεῖν γὰρ εὐκλεῶς μέν, εἰ θανεῖν χρεών,λυπρὸν μὲν οἶμαι τῷ θανόντι — πῶς γὰρ οὔ; —τοῖς ζῶσι δʼ ὄγκος καὶ δόμων εὐδοξία.
But we, like laggards and like fools we died!
ἡμεῖς δʼ ἀβούλως κἀκλεῶς ὀλώλαμεν.
When Hector’s hand had showed us where to restAnd told the watchword, down we lay, oppressedWith weariness of that long march, and sleptJust as we fell. No further watch was kept,Our arms not laid beside us; by the horseNo yoke nor harness ordered. Hector’s forceHad victory, so my master heard, and laySecure, just waiting for the dawn of dayTo attack. So thought we all, and our lines brokeAnd slept. After a little time I woke,Thinking about my horses, that the mornMust see them yoked for war. I found the cornAnd gave them plenteously. Then in the deepShadow I saw two men who seemed to creepClose by our line, but swiftly, as I stirred,Crouched and were seeking to make off unheard.
ἐπεὶ γὰρ ἡμᾶς ηὔνασʼ Ἑκτόρεια χείρ,ξύνθημα λέξας, ηὕδομεν πεδοστιβεῖκόπῳ δαμέντες, οὐδʼ ἐφρουρεῖτο στρατὸςφυλακαῖσι νυκτέροισιν, οὐδʼ ἐν τάξεσινἔκειτο τεύχη, πλῆκτρά τʼ οὐκ ἐπὶ ζυγοῖςἵππων καθήρμοσθʼ, ὡς ἄναξ ἐπεύθετοκρατοῦντας ὑμᾶς κἀφεδρεύοντας νεῶνπρύμναισι· φαύλως δʼ ηὕδομεν πεπτωκότες.κἀγὼ μελούσῃ καρδίᾳ λήξας ὕπνουπώλοισι χόρτον, προσδοκῶν ἑωθινὴνζεύξειν ἐς ἀλκήν, ἀφθόνῳ μετρῶ χερί.λεύσσω δὲ φῶτε περιπολοῦνθʼ ἡμῶν στρατὸνπυκνῆς διʼ ὄρφνης· ὡς δʼ ἐκινήθην ἐγώ,ἐπτηξάτην τε κἀνεχωρείτην πάλιν·
I shouted then, and bade them keep away:Two thieves, I thought, from the great host that layRound us. They never answered, and, for me,I said no more but turned and presentlyWas sleeping. In my sleep there came a dream.
ἤπυσα δʼ αὐτοῖς μὴ πελάζεσθαι στρατῷ,κλῶπας δοκήσας συμμάχων πλάθειν τινάς.οἳ δʼ οὐδέν· οὐ μὴν οὐδʼ ἐγὼ τὰ πλείονα.ηὗδον δʼ ἀπελθὼν αὖθις ἐς κοίτην πάλιν.καί μοι καθʼ ὕπνον δόξα τις παρίσταται·
I seemed to see the horses—mine own teamI had trained long since and drove at Rhesus’ side—But wolves were on their backs, wolves, couched astride,Who drove and scourged; I saw the horses rearAnd stagger with wide nostrils, stiff with fear,And, starting up to drive the beasts away,I woke.—A terror of great darkness layAbout me, but I lifted up my headAnd listened. There was moaning, like the deadThat moan at night, and over me there flowed,So soft, so warm—it was my master’s blood,Who writhed beside me, dying! With a boundI sprang up, empty-handed, groping roundFor spear or sword, when, lo, a young strong manWas close to me and slashed, and the sword ranDeep through my flank. I felt its passage well,So deep, so wide, so spreading... then I fell.And they, they got the bridles in their handAnd fled.... Ah! Ah! This pain. I cannot stand.The Guards catch him as he reels, and lay him on the ground.
ἵππους γὰρ ἃς ἔθρεψα κἀδιφρηλάτουνῬήσῳ παρεστώς, εἶδον, ὡς ὄναρ δοκῶν,λύκους ἐπεμβεβῶτας ἑδραίαν ῥάχιν·θείνοντε δʼ οὐρᾷ πωλικῆς ῥινοῦ τρίχαἤλαυνον, αἳ δʼ ἔρρεγκον ἐξ ἀντηρίδωνθυμὸν πνέουσαι κἀνεχαίτιζον φόβῳ.ἐγὼ δʼ ἀμύνων θῆρας ἐξεγείρομαιπώλοισιν· ἔννυχος γὰρ ἐξώρμα φόβος.κλύω δʼ ἐπάρας κρᾶτα μυχθισμὸν νεκρῶν.θερμὸς δὲ κρουνὸς δεσπότου πάρα σφαγαῖςβάλλει με δυσθνῄσκοντος αἵματος νέου.ὀρθὸς δʼ ἀνᾴσσω χειρὶ σὺν κενῇ δορός.καί μʼ ἔγχος αὐγάζοντα καὶ θηρώμενονπαίει παραστὰς νεῖραν ἐς πλευρὰν ξίφειἀνὴρ ἀκμάζων· φασγάνου γὰρ ᾐσθόμηνπληγῆς, βαθεῖαν ἄλοκα τραύματος λαβών.πίπτω δὲ πρηνής· οἳ δʼ ὄχημα πωλικὸνλαβόντες ἵππων ἵεσαν φυγῇ πόδα.ἆ ἆ.ὀδύνη με τείρει, κοὐκέτʼ ὀρθοῦμαι τάλας.
I know, I saw, thus much. But why or howThose dead men went to death I cannot know,Nor by whose work. But this I say; God send’Tis not foul wrong wrought on us by a friend.
καὶ ξυμφορὰν μὲν οἶδʼ ὁρῶν, τρόπῳ δʼ ὅτῳτεθνᾶσιν οἱ θανόντες οὐκ ἔχω φράσαι,οὐδʼ ἐξ ὁποίας χειρός. εἰκάσαι δέ μοιπάρεστι λυπρὰ πρὸς φίλων πεπονθέναι.
LEADER.:Good charioteer of that ill-fortuned king,Suspect us not.’Tis Greeks have done this thing.
Χορός:ἡνίοχε Θρῃκὸς τοῦ κακῶς πεπραγότος,μηδὲν δυσοίζου· πολέμιοι ῎δρασαν τάδε.
But yonder Hector comes. He hath been shownThe foul deed, and thy sorrows are his own.Enter HECTOR in wrath, with a band of Guards.
Ἕκτωρ δὲ καὐτὸς συμφορᾶς πεπυσμένοςχωρεῖ· συναλγεῖ δʼ, ὡς ἔοικε, σοῖς κακοῖς.
HECTOR.:Ye workers of amazement! Have your eyesNo sight? Ye watch and let these Argive spiesPass—and our friends are butchered in their sleep—And then pass back unwounded, laughing deepAmid the galleys at the news they bringOf Trojan sluggards and the fool their king?Great God, ye never baulked them as they came,Nor smote them as they went!His eye falls on the CAPTAIN.Who bears the blameOf this but thou? Thou wast the watcher setTo guard this host till morn. I tell thee yetFor this deed—I have sworn by Zeus our Lord!—The scourge of torment or the headsman’s swordAwaits thee. Else, be Hector in your thoughtWrit down a babbler and a man of nought.LEADER: (grovelling before HECTOR)Woe, woe! It was for thee, only for thee,I must have gone, O Help and Majesty,That time with message that the fires were burning.
Ἕκτωρ:πῶς, ὦ μέγιστα πήματʼ ἐξειργασμένοι,μολόντες ὑμᾶς πολεμίων κατάσκοποιλήθουσιν αἰσχρῶς, καὶ κατεσφάγη στρατός,κοὔτʼ εἰσιόντας στρατόπεδʼ ἐξαπώσατεοὔτʼ ἐξιόντας; τῶνδε τίς τείσει δίκηνπλὴν σοῦ; σὲ γὰρ δὴ φύλακά φημʼ εἶναι στρατοῦ.φροῦδοι δʼ ἄπληκτοι, τῇ Φρυγῶν κακανδρίᾳπόλλʼ ἐγγελῶντες τῷ στρατηλάτῃ τʼ ἐμοί.εὖ νυν τόδʼ ἴστε — Ζεὺς ὀμώμοται πατήρ —ἤτοι μάραγνά γʼ ἢ καρανιστὴς μόροςμένει σε δρῶντα τοιάδʼ, ἢ τὸν Ἕκτορατὸ μηδὲν εἶναι καὶ κακὸν νομίζετε.Χορός:ἰὼ ἰώ,μετὰ σέ, ναί, μετὰ σέ, ὦ πολίοχον κράτος,τότʼ ἄρʼ ἔμολον, ὅτε σοιἄγγελος ἦλθον ἀμφὶ ναῦς πύρʼ αἴθειν·
Mine eye was keen; I swear by Simois river,It never drooped nor slumbered, never, never,From eve till morning!My master, verily, I am innocent utterly,Build not such wrath against me, Lord, nor hardenThy heart; let Time be judge; and if in deedOr word I have offended, let me bleed!Bury me here alive! I ask no pardon.THRACIAN.: HECTOR is standing over him ready to strike when the CHARIOTEER speaks.
ἐπεὶ ἄγρυπνον ὄμμʼ ἐν εὐφρόνῃοὔτʼ ἐκοίμισʼ οὔτʼ ἔβριξʼ,οὐ τὰς Σιμοεντιάδας πηγάς· μή μοικότον, ὦ ἄνα, θῇς· ἀναίτιος γὰρ… ἔγωγε πάντων.εἰ δὲ χρόνῳ παράκαιρον ἔργον ἢ λόγονπύθῃ, κατά με γᾶςζῶντα πόρευσον· οὐ παραιτοῦμαι.
Why threaten them? Art thou a Greek to blindMy barbarous wit so nimbly, in a windOf words? This work was thine. And no man’s headIs asked by us, the wounded and the dead,Save thine. It needs more play, and better feigned,To hide from me that thou hast slain thy friendBy craft, to steal his horses.—That is whyHe stabs his friends. He prays them earnestly,Prays them to come; they came and they are dead.
Ἡνίοχος:τί τοῖσδʼ ἀπειλεῖς βάρβαρός τε βαρβάρουγνώμην ὑφαιρῇ τὴν ἐμήν, πλέκων λόγους;σὺ ταῦτʼ ἔδρασας· οὐδένʼ ἂν δεξαίμεθαοὔθʼ οἱ θανόντες οὔτʼ ἂν οἱ τετρωμένοιἄλλον· μακροῦ γε δεῖ σε καὶ σοφοῦ λόγου,ὅτῳ με πείσεις μὴ φίλους κατακτανεῖν,ἵππων ἐρασθείς, ὧν ἕκατι συμμάχουςτοὺς σοὺς φονεύεις, πόλλʼ ἐπισκήπτων μολεῖν.
A cleaner man was Paris, when he fledWith his host’s wife. He was no murderer.
ἦλθον, τεθνᾶσιν· εὐπρεπέστερον Πάριςξενίαν κατῄσχυνʼ ἢ σὺ συμμάχους κτανών.
Profess not thou that any Greek was thereTo fall on us. What Greek could pass the screenOf Trojan posts in front of us, unseen?
μὴ γάρ τι λέξῃς ὥς τις Ἀργείων μολὼνδιώλεσʼ ἡμᾶς· τίς δʼ ὑπερβαλὼν λόχουςΤρώων ἐφʼ ἡμᾶς ἦλθεν, ὥστε καὶ λαθεῖν;
Thyself was stationed there, and all thy men.
σὺ πρόσθεν ἡμῶν ἧσο καὶ Φρυγῶν στρατός.
What man of yours was slain or wounded whenYour Greek spies came? Not one;’tis we, behind,Are wounded, and some worse than wounded, blindForever to the sunlight. When we seekOur vengeance, we shall go not to the Greek.
τίς οὖν τέτρωται, τίς τέθνηκε συμμάχωντῶν σῶν, μολόντων ὧν σὺ πολεμίων λέγεις;ἡμεῖς δʼ ἑκὰς τετρώμεθʼ, οἳ δὲ μειζόνωςπαθόντες οὐχ ὁρῶσιν ἡλίου φάος.ἁπλῶς δʼ Ἀχαιῶν οὐδένʼ αἰτιώμεθα.
What stranger in that darkness could have trodStraight to where Rhesus lay—unless some GodPointed his path? They knew not, whispered not,Rhesus had ever come....’Tis all a plot.HECTOR: (steadied and courteous again).
τίς δʼ ἂν χαμεύνας πολεμίων κατʼ εὐφρόνηνῬήσου μολὼν ἐξηῦρεν, εἰ μή τις θεῶνἔφραζε τοῖς κτανοῦσιν; οὐδʼ ἀφιγμένοντὸ πάμπαν ᾖσαν· ἀλλὰ μηχανᾷ τάδε.
Good allies I have had since first the GreekSet foot in Troy, and never heard them speakComplaint of Hector. Thou wilt be the first.
Ἕκτωρ:χρόνον μὲν ἤδη συμμάχοισι χρώμεθαὅσονπερ ἐν γῇ τῇδʼ Ἀχαιικὸς λεώς,κοὐδὲν πρὸς αὐτῶν οἶδα πλημμελὲς κλύων·
I have not, by God’s mercy, such a thirstFor horses as to murder for their sake.He turns to his own men.
ἐν σοὶ δʼ ἂν ἀρχοίμεσθα. μή μʼ ἔρως ἕλοιτοιοῦτος ἵππων ὥστʼ ἀποκτείνειν φίλους.
Odysseus! Yet again Odysseus! TakeAll the Greek armies, is there one but heCould have devised, or dared, this devilry?I fear him; yea, fear in mine own despite,Lest Dolon may have crossed him in the nightAnd perished;’tis so long he cometh not.
καὶ ταῦτʼ Ὀδυσσεύς· τίς γὰρ ἄλλος ἄν ποτεἔδρασεν ἢ ʼβούλευσεν Ἀργείων ἀνήρ;δέδοικα δʼ αὐτὸν καί τί μου θράσσει φρένας,μὴ καὶ Δόλωνα συντυχὼν κατακτάνῃ·χρόνον γὰρ ἤδη φροῦδος ὢν οὐ φαίνεται.
THRACIAN.:I know not who Odysseus is, nor what.
Ἡνίοχος:οὐκ οἶδα τοὺς σοὺς οὓς λέγεις Ὀδυσσέας·
I know it was no Greek that wounded us.
ἡμεῖς δʼ ὑπʼ ἐχθρῶν οὐδενὸς πεπλήγμεθα.
HECTOR.:To think thus pleasures thee? Well, have it thus.
Ἕκτωρ:σὺ δʼ οὖν νόμιζε ταῦτʼ, ἐπείπερ σοι δοκεῖ.
THRACIAN.:Home, home! To die at home and rest my head!
Ἡνίοχος:ὦ γαῖα πατρίς, πῶς ἂν ἐνθάνοιμί σοι;
HECTOR.:Nay, die not, friend. We have enough of dead.
Ἕκτωρ:μὴ θνῇσχʼ· ἅλις γὰρ τῶν τεθνηκότων ὄχλος.
THRACIAN.:How can I live? Lost, and my master slain.
Ἡνίοχος:ποῖ δὴ τράπωμαι δεσποτῶν μονούμενος;
HECTOR.:My house will shelter thee and heal thy pain.
Ἕκτωρ:οἶκός σε κεύθων οὑμὸς ἐξιάσεται.
THRACIAN.:Thy house? Will murderers’ nursing give me peace?
Ἡνίοχος:καὶ πῶς με κηδεύσουσιν αὐθεντῶν χέρες;
HECTOR.:Still the same tale! This man will never cease.
Ἕκτωρ:ὅδʼ αὖ τὸν αὐτὸν μῦθον οὐ λήξει λέγων.
THRACIAN.:My curse rest—not on Hector, but on thoseWho stabbed us, as thou say’st.—Ah, Justice knows!
Ἡνίοχος:ὄλοιθʼ ὁ δράσας. οὐ γὰρ ἐς σὲ τείνεταιγλῶσσʼ, ὡς σὺ κομπεῖς· ἡ Δίκη δʼ ἐπίσταται.
HECTOR.:There, lift him.—Bear him to my house. Take pains,If care can do it, that the man complainsNo more of Troy.—Ye others, bear withalTo Priam and the Elders of the WallMy charge, that, where the cart-road from the plainBranches, they make due burial for our slain.One party of Guards lifts carefully the wounded THRACIAN and goes off bearing him: another departs with the message to Troy.
Ἕκτωρ:λάζυσθʼ· ἄγοντες ⟨δʼ⟩ αὐτὸν ἐς δόμους ἐμούς,οὕτως ὅπως ἂν μὴ ʼγκαλῇ πορσύνετε·ὑμᾶς δʼ ἰόντας τοῖσιν ἐν τείχει χρεὼνΠριάμῳ τε καὶ γέρουσι σημῆναι νεκροὺςθάπτειν κελεύθου λεωφόρου πρὸς ἐκτροπάς.
CHORUS.:Back from the heights of happiness,Back, back, to labour and distressSome god that is not ours doth leadTroy and her sons; He sows the seed,Who knows the reaping?In the air at the back there appears a Vision of the MUSE holding the body of her dead son RHESUS.Ah! Ah!
Χορός:τί ποτʼ εὐτυχίας ἐκ τῆς μεγάληςΤροίαν ἀνάγει πάλιν ἐς πένθηδαίμων ἄλλος, τί φυτεύων;ἔα ἔα. [ὦ ὦ.]
My king, what cometh? There appearsSome Spirit, like a mist of tears;And in her arms a man lieth,So young, so wearied unto death;To see such vision presagethWrath and great weeping.The Guards hide their heads in their mantles.
τίς ὑπὲρ κεφαλῆς θεός, ὦ βασιλεῦ,τὸν νεόκμητον νεκρὸν ἐν χειροῖνφοράδην πέμπει;ταρβῶ, λεύσσων τόδε, πῆμα.
MUSE.:Nay, look your fill, ye Trojans. It is I,The many-sistered Muse, of worship highIn wise men’s hearts, who come to mourn mine ownMost pitifully loved, most injured, son,For whose shed blood Odysseus yet shall payVengeance, who crawled and stabbed him where he lay.
Μοῦσα:ὁρᾶν πάρεστι, Τρῶες· ἡ γὰρ ἐν σοφοῖςτιμὰς ἔχουσα Μοῦσα συγγόνων μίαπάρειμι, παῖδα τόνδʼ ὁρῶσʼ οἰκτρῶς φίλονθανόνθʼ ὑπʼ ἐχθρῶν· ὅν ποθʼ ὁ κτείνας χρόνῳδόλιος Ὀδυσσεὺς ἀξίαν τείσει δίκην.
MUSE.:With a dirge of the Thracian mountains,I mourn for thee, O my son.For a mother’s weeping, for a galley’s launching, forthe way to Troy;
Μοῦσα:ἰαλέμῳ αὐθιγενεῖ,τέκνον, σʼ ὀλοφύρομαι, ὦματρὸς ἄλγος, οἵανἔκελσας ὁδὸν ποτὶ Τροίαν·
A sad going, and watched by spirits of evil.His mother chid him to stay, but he rose and went.His father besought him to stay, but he went in anger.
ἦ δυσδαίμονα καὶ μελέαν,ἀπομεμφομένας ἐμοῦ πορευθείς,ἀπὸ δʼ ἀντομένου πατρὸς βιαίως.
Ah, woe is me for thee, thou dear face,My belovèd and my son!
ὤμοι ἐγὼ σέθεν, ὦ φιλίαφιλία κεφαλά, τέκνον, ὤμοι.
LEADER.:Goddess, if tears for such as thee may runIn our low eyes, I weep for thy dead son.
Χορός:ὅσον προσήκει μὴ γένους κοινωνίανἔχοντι λύπῃ τὸν σὸν οἰκτίρω γόνον.
MUSE.:I say to thee: Curse Odysseus,And cursèd be Diomede!For they made me childless, and forlorn for ever, ofthe flower of sons.
Μοῦσα:ὄλοιτο μὲν Οἰνεΐδας,ὄλοιτο δὲ Λαρτιάδας,ὅς μʼ ἄπαιδα γένναςἔθηκεν ἀριστοτόκοιο·
Yea, curse Helen, who left the houses of Hellas.She knew her lover, she feared not the ships and sea.She called thee, called thee, to die for the sake of Paris,Belovèd, and a thousand citiesShe made empty of good men.
ἅ θʼ Ἕλλανα λιποῦσα δόμονΦρυγίων λεχέων ἔπλευσε πλαθεῖσʼὑπʼ Ἰλίῳ ὤλεσε μὲν σʼ ἕκατι Τροίας,φίλτατε, μυριάδας τε πόλειςἀνδρῶν ἀγαθῶν ἐκένωσεν.
O conquered Thamyris, is this thy baneReturned from death to pierce my heart again?
Μοῦσα:ἦ πολλὰ μὲν ζῶν, πολλὰ δʼ εἰς Ἅιδου μολών,Φιλάμμονος παῖ, τῆς ἐμῆς ἥψω φρενός·
Thy pride it was, and bitter challenge cast’Gainst all the Muses, did my flesh abaseTo bearing of this Child, what time I passedThrough the deep stream and looked on Strymon’s face,And felt his great arms clasp me, when to oldPangaion and the earth of hoarded goldWe Sisters came with lutes and psalteries,Provoked to meet in bitter strife of songThat mountain wizard, and made dark the eyesOf Thamyris, who wrought sweet music wrong.
ὕβρις γάρ, ἥ σʼ ἔσφηλε, καὶ Μουσῶν ἔριςτεκεῖν μʼ ἔθηκε τόνδε δύστηνον γόνον.περῶσα γὰρ δὴ ποταμίους διὰ ῥοὰςλέκτροις ἐπλάθην Στρυμόνος φυταλμίοις,ὅτʼ ἤλθομεν γῆς χρυσόβωλον ἐς λέπαςΠάγγαιον ὀργάνοισιν ἐξησκημέναιΜοῦσαι μεγίστην εἰς ἔριν μελῳδίαςκείνῳ σοφιστῇ Θρῃκί, κἀκτυφλώσαμενΘάμυριν, ὃς ἡμῶν πόλλʼ ἐδέννασεν τέχνην.
I bore thee, Child; and then, in shame beforeMy sisterhood, my dear virginity,I stood again upon thy Father’s shoreAnd cast thee to the deeps of him; and heReceived and to no mortal nursing gaveHis child, but to the Maidens of the Wave.
κἀπεὶ σὲ τίκτω, συγγόνους αἰδουμένηκαὶ παρθενείαν, ἧκʼ ἐς εὐύδρου πατρὸςδίνας· τρέφειν δέ σʼ οὐ βρότειον ἐς χέραΣτρυμὼν δίδωσιν, ἀλλὰ πηγαίαις κόραις.
And well they nursed thee, and a king thou wastAnd first of Thrace in war; yea, far and nearThrough thine own hills thy bloody chariot passed,Thy battered helm flashed, and I had no fear;
ἔνθʼ ἐκτραφεὶς κάλλιστα Παρθένων ὕπο,Θρῄκης ἀνάσσων πρῶτος ἦσθʼ ἀνδρῶν, τέκνον.καί σʼ ἀμφὶ γῆν μὲν πατρίαν φιλαιμάτουςἀλκὰς κορύσσοντʼ οὐκ ἐδείμαινον θανεῖν·
Only to Troy I charged thee not to go:I knew the fated end: but Hector’s cry,Borne overseas by embassies of woe,Called thee to battle for thy friends and die.
Τροίας δʼ ἀπηύδων ἄστυ μὴ κέλσαι ποτε,εἰδυῖα τὸν σὸν πότμον· ἀλλά σʼ Ἕκτοροςπρεσβεύμαθʼ αἵ τε μυρίαι γερουσίαιἔπεισαν ἐλθεῖν κἀπικουρῆσαι φίλοις.
And thou, Athena—nothing was the deedOdysseus wrought this night nor Diomede—’Tis thine, all thine; dream not thy cruel handIs hid from me! Yet ever on thy landThe Muse hath smiled; we gave it praise aboveAll cities, yea, fulfilled it with our love.The light of thy great Mysteries was shedBy Orpheus, very cousin of this deadWhom thou hast slain; and thine high citizenMusaeus, wisest of the tribes of men,We and Apollo guided all his way:
καὶ τοῦδʼ, Ἀθάνα, παντὸς αἰτία μόρου,— οὐδὲν δʼ Ὀδυσσεὺς οὐδʼ ὁ Τυδέως τόκοςἔδρασε δράσας — μὴ δόκει λεληθέναι.καίτοι πόλιν σὴν σύγγονοι πρεσβεύομενΜοῦσαι μάλιστα κἀπιχρώμεθα χθονί,μυστηρίων τε τῶν ἀπορρήτων φανὰςἔδειξεν Ὀρφεύς, αὐτανέψιος νεκροῦτοῦδʼ ὃν κατακτείνεις σύ· Μουσαῖόν τε, σὸνσεμνὸν πολίτην κἀπὶ πλεῖστον ἄνδρʼ ἕναἐλθόντα, Φοῖβος σύγγονοί τʼ ἠσκήσαμεν.
For which long love behold the gift ye pay!I wreathe him in my arms; I wail his wrongAlone, and ask no other mourner’s song.She weeps over RHESUS.
καὶ τῶνδε μισθὸν παῖδʼ ἔχουσʼ ἐν ἀγκάλαιςθρηνῶ· σοφιστὴν δʼ ἄλλον οὐκ ἐπάξομαι.
LEADER.:Hector, thou hearest. We were guiltless here,And falsely spake that Thracian charioteer.
Χορός:μάτην ἄρʼ ἡμᾶς Θρῄκιος τροχηλάτηςἐδέννασʼ, Ἕκτορ, τῷδε βουλεῦσαι φόνον.
HECTOR.:Always I knew it. Had we any needOf seers to tell this was Odysseus’ deed?
Ἕκτωρ:ᾔδη τάδʼ· οὐδὲν μάντεων ἔδει φράσαιὈδυσσέως τέχναισι τόνδʼ ὀλωλότα.
For me, what could I else, when I beheldThe hosts of Argos camped upon this field,What but with prayers and heralds bid my friendCome forth and fight for Ilion ere the end?
ἐγὼ δὲ γῆς ἔφεδρον Ἑλλήνων στρατὸνλεύσσων, τί μὴν ἔμελλον οὐ πέμψειν φίλοιςκήρυκας, ἐλθεῖν κἀπικουρῆσαι χθονί;
He owed me that.—Yet, now my friend is slain,His sorrow is my sorrow. On this plainI will uplift a wondrous sepulchre,And burn about it gifts beyond compareOf robes and frankincense. To Troy’s reliefHe came in love and parteth in great grief.
ἔπεμψʼ· ὀφείλων δʼ ἦλθε συμπονεῖν ἐμοί.οὐ μὴν θανόντι γʼ οὐδαμῶς συνήδομαι.καὶ νῦν ἕτοιμος τῷδε καὶ τεῦξαι τάφονκαὶ ξυμπυρῶσαι μυρίων πέπλων χλιδήν·φίλος γὰρ ἐλθὼν δυστυχῶς ἀπέρχεται.
MUSE.:My son shall not be laid in any graveOf darkness; thus much guerdon will I craveOf Death’s eternal bride, the heavenly-bornMaid of Demeter, Life of fruits and corn,To set this one soul free. She owes me yet,For Orpheus widowed, an abiding debt.
Μοῦσα:οὐκ εἶσι γαίας ἐς μελάγχιμον πέδον·τοσόνδε Νύμφην τὴν ἔνερθʼ αἰτήσομαι,τῆς καρποποιοῦ παῖδα Δήμητρος θεᾶς,ψυχὴν ἀνεῖναι τοῦδʼ· ὀφειλέτις δέ μοιτοὺς Ὀρφέως τιμῶσα φαίνεσθαι φίλους.
To me he still must be—that know I well—As one in death, who sees not. Where I dwellHe must not come, nor see his mother’s face.
κἀμοὶ μὲν ὡς θανών τε κοὐ λεύσσων φάοςἔσται τὸ λοιπόν· οὐ γὰρ ἐς ταὐτόν ποτεοὔτʼ εἶσιν οὔτε μητρὸς ὄψεται δέμας·
Alone for ever, in a caverned placeOf silver-veinèd earth, hid from men’s sight,A Man yet Spirit, he shall live in light:As under far Pangaion Orpheus lies,Priest of great light and worshipped of the wise.
κρυπτὸς δʼ ἐν ἄντροις τῆς ὑπαργύρου χθονὸςἀνθρωποδαίμων κείσεται βλέπων φάος,Βάκχου προφήτης ὥστε Παγγαίου πέτρανᾤκησε, σεμνὸς τοῖσιν εἰδόσιν θεός.
Howbeit an easier anguish even to meFalls than to Thetis in her azure sea;For her son too shall die; and sorrowing,First on the hills our band for thee shall sing,Then for Achilles by the weeping wave.
ῥᾷον δὲ πένθος τῆς θαλασσίας θεοῦοἴσω· θανεῖν γὰρ καὶ τὸν ἐκ κείνης χρεών.θρήνοις δʼ ἀδελφαὶ πρῶτα μὲν σὲ ὑμνήσομεν,ἔπειτʼ Ἀχιλλέα Θέτιδος ἐν πένθει ποτέ.
Pallas could murder thee, but shall not saveThy foe; too swift Apollo’s bolt shall fly.
οὐ ῥύσεταί νιν Παλλάς, ἥ σʼ ἀπέκτανεν·τοῖον φαρέτρα Λοξίου σῴζει βέλος.
O fleshly loves of sad mortality,O bitter motherhood of these that die,She that hath wisdom will endure her doom,The days of emptiness, the fruitless womb;Not love, not bear love’s children to the tomb.The VISION rises through the air and vanishes.
ὦ παιδοποιοὶ συμφοραί, πόνοι βροτῶν·ὡς ὅστις ὑμᾶς μὴ κακῶς λογίζεται,ἄπαις διοίσει κοὐ τεκὼν θάψει τέκνα.
LEADER.:The dead man sleepeth in his mother’s care;
Χορός:οὗτος μὲν ἤδη μητρὶ κηδεύειν μέλει·
But we who battle still—behold, the glareOf dawn that rises. Doth thy purpose hold,Hector, our arms are ready as of old.
σὺ δʼ εἴ τι πράσσειν τῶν προκειμένων θέλεις,Ἕκτορ, πάρεστι· φῶς γὰρ ἡμέρας τόδε.
HECTOR.:March on; and bid the allies with all speedBe armed, bind fast the yoke upon the steed,Then wait with torches burning, till we soundThe Tuscan trump.—This day we shall confound,God tells me, their Greek phalanx, break their highRampart and fire the galleys where they lie.Pointing to the dawn.Yon first red arrow of the Sun, that bringsThe dawn to Troy, hath freedom on his wings.During the following lines HECTOR goes to his tent to get his shield, and as he enters sees DOLON’S bloody wolf-skin hanging. He takes it, looks at it, and throws it down without a word. Then he puts on his helmet, takes his shield and spear, and follows the Guards as they march off.
Ἕκτωρ:χωρεῖτε, συμμάχους δʼ ὁπλίζεσθαι τάχοςἄνωχθε πληροῦν τʼ αὐχένας ξυνωρίδων.πανοὺς δʼ ἔχοντας χρὴ μένειν Τυρσηνικῆςσάλπιγγος αὐδήν· ὡς ὑπερβαλὼν στρατὸντείχη τʼ Ἀχαιῶν ναυσὶν αἶθον ἐμβαλεῖνπέποιθα Τρωσί θʼ ἡμέραν ἐλευθέρανἀκτῖνα τὴν στείχουσαν ἡλίου φέρειν.
CHORUS.:The Chief hath spoken: let his willBe law, ye Trojans.—Raise the cryTo Arms! To Arms! and down the lineOf allies pass the battle-sign.The God of Ilion liveth still;And men may conquer ere they die.Exeunt.
Χορός:πείθου βασιλεῖ· στείχωμεν ὅπλοιςκοσμησάμενοι καὶ ξυμμαχίᾳτάδε φράζωμεν· τάχα δʼ ἂν νίκηνδοίη δαίμων ὁ μεθʼ ἡμῶν.