Lysistrata | Page 7

us out.
Come, Philurgus, bustle thither; lay our faggots on the ground, In neat stacks beleaguering the insurgents all around; And the vile conspiratresses, plotters of such mischief dire, Pile and burn them all together in one vast and righteous pyre: Fling with our own hands Lycon's wife to fry in the thickest fire. By Demeter, they'll get no brag while I've a vein to beat! Cleomenes himself was hurtled out in sore defeat. His stiff-backed Spartan pride was bent. Out, stripped of all his arms, he went: A pigmy cloak that would not stretch To hide his rump (the draggled wretch), Six sprouting years of beard, the spilth Of six years' filth.
That was a siege! Our men were ranged in lines of seventeen deep Before the gates, and never left their posts there, even to sleep. Shall I not smite the rash presumption then of foes like these, Detested both of all the gods and of Euripides-- Else, may the Marathon-plain not boast my trophied victories!
Ah, now, there's but a little space To reach the place! A deadly climb it is, a tricky road With all this bumping load: A pack-ass soon would tire.... How these logs bruise my shoulders! further still Jog up the hill, And puff the fire inside, Or just as we reach the top we'll find it's died. Ough, phew! I choke with the smoke.
Lord Heracles, how acrid-hot Out of the pot This mad-dog smoke leaps, worrying me And biting angrily.... 'Tis Lemnian fire that smokes, Or else it would not sting my eyelids thus.... Haste, all of us; Athene invokes our aid. Laches, now or never the assault must be made! Ough, phew! I choke with the smoke. ..
Thanked be the gods! The fire peeps up and crackles as it should. Now why not first slide off our backs these weary loads of wood And dip a vine-branch in the brazier till it glows, then straight Hurl it at the battering-ram against the stubborn gate? If they refuse to draw the bolts in immediate compliance, We'll set fire to the wood, and smoke will strangle their defiance.
Phew, what a spluttering drench of smoke! Come, now from off my back.... Is there no Samos-general to help me to unpack? Ah there, that's over! For the last time now it's galled my shoulder. Flare up thine embers, brazier, and dutifully smoulder, To kindle a brand, that I the first may strike the citadel. Aid me, Lady Victory, that a triumph-trophy may tell How we did anciently this insane audacity quell!
Chorus of WOMEN.
What's that rising yonder? That ruddy glare, that smoky skurry? O is it something in a blaze? Quick, quick, my comrades, hurry! Nicodice, helter-skelter! Or poor Calyce's in flames And Cratylla's stifled in the welter. O these dreadful old men And their dark laws of hate! There, I'm all of a tremble lest I turn out to be too late. I could scarcely get near to the spring though I rose before dawn, What with tattling of tongues and rattling of pitchers in one jostling din With slaves pushing in!....
Still here at last the water's drawn And with it eagerly I run To help those of my friends who stand In danger of being burned alive. For I am told a dribbling band Of greybeards hobble to the field, Great faggots in each palsied hand, As if a hot bath to prepare, And threatening that out they'll drive These wicked women or soon leave them charring into ashes there. O Goddess, suffer not, I pray, this harsh deed to be done, But show us Greece and Athens with their warlike acts repealed! For this alone, in this thy hold, Thou Goddess with the helm of gold, We laid hands on thy sanctuary, Athene.... Then our ally be And where they cast their fires of slaughter Direct our water!
STRATYLLIS (_caught_)
Let me go!
WOMEN
You villainous old men, what's this you do? No honest man, no pious man, could do such things as you.
MEN
Ah ha, here's something most original, I have no doubt: A swarm of women sentinels to man the walls without.
WOMEN
So then we scare you, do we? Do we seem a fearful host? You only see the smallest fraction mustered at this post.
MEN
Ho, Phaedrias, shall we put a stop to all these chattering tricks? Suppose that now upon their backs we splintered these our sticks?
WOMEN
Let us lay down the pitchers, so our bodies will be free, In case these lumping fellows try to cause some injury.
MEN
O hit them hard and hit again and hit until they run away, And perhaps they'll learn, like Bupalus, not to have too much to say.
WOMEN
Come on, then--do it! I won't budge, but like a dog I'll bite At every little scrap of meat that dangles in my sight.
MEN
Be quiet, or I'll bash