The Fall of Troy | Page 6

her bowing horns. So did it shine?Unutterably fair. Then on her head?She settled the bright helmet overstreamed?With a wild mane of golden-glistering hairs.?So stood she, lapped about with flaming mail,?In semblance like the lightning, which the might,?The never-wearied might of Zeus, to earth?Hurleth, what time he showeth forth to men?Fury of thunderous-roaring rain, or swoop?Resistless of his shouting host of winds.?Then in hot haste forth of her bower to pass?Caught she two javelins in the hand that grasped?Her shield-band; but her strong right hand laid hold?On a huge halberd, sharp of either blade,?Which terrible Eris gave to Ares' child?To be her Titan weapon in the strife?That raveneth souls of men. Laughing for glee?Thereover, swiftly flashed she forth the ring?Of towers. Her coming kindled all the sons?Of Troy to rush into the battle forth?Which crowneth men with glory. Swiftly all?Hearkened her gathering-ery, and thronging came,?Champions, yea, even such as theretofore?Shrank back from standing in the ranks of war?Against Achilles the all-ravager.?But she in pride of triumph on she rode?Throned on a goodly steed and fleet, the gift?Of Oreithyia, the wild North-wind's bride,?Given to her guest the warrior-maid, what time?She came to Thrace, a steed whose flying feet?Could match the Harpies' wings. Riding thereon?Penthesileia in her goodlihead?Left the tall palaces of Troy behind.?And ever were the ghastly-visaged Fates?Thrusting her on into the battle, doomed?To be her first against the Greeks -- and last!?To right, to left, with unreturning feet?The Trojan thousands followed to the fray,?The pitiless fray, that death-doomed warrior-maid,?Followed in throngs, as follow sheep the ram?That by the shepherd's art strides before all.?So followed they, with battle-fury filled,?Strong Trojans and wild-hearted Amazons.?And like Tritonis seemed she, as she went?To meet the Giants, or as flasheth far?Through war-hosts Eris, waker of onset-shouts.?So mighty in the Trojans' midst she seemed,?Penthesileia of the flying feet.
Then unto Cronos' Son Laomedon's child?Upraised his hands, his sorrow-burdened hands,?Turning him toward the sky-encountering fane?Of Zeus of Ida, who with sleepless eyes?Looks ever down on Ilium; and he prayed:?"Father, give ear! Vouchsafe that on this day?Achaea's host may fall before the hands?Of this our warrior-queen, the War-god's child;?And do thou bring her back unscathed again?Unto mine halls: we pray thee by the love?Thou bear'st to Ares of the fiery heart?Thy son, yea, to her also! is she not?Most wondrous like the heavenly Goddesses??And is she not the child of thine own seed??Pity my stricken heart withal! Thou know'st?All agonies I have suffered in the deaths?Of dear sons whom the Fates have torn from me?By Argive hands in the devouring fight.?Compassionate us, while a remnant yet?Remains of noble Dardanus' blood, while yet?This city stands unwasted! Let us know?From ghastly slaughter and strife one breathing-space!"
In passionate prayer he spake: -- lo, with shrill scream?Swiftly to left an eagle darted by?And in his talons bare a gasping dove.?Then round the heart of Priam all the blood?Was chilled with fear. Low to his soul he said:?"Ne'er shall I see return alive from war?Penthesileia!" On that selfsame day?The Fates prepared his boding to fulfil;?And his heart brake with anguish of despair.
Marvelled the Argives, far across the plain?Seeing the hosts of Troy charge down on them,?And midst them Penthesileia, Ares' child.?These seemed like ravening beasts that mid the hills?Bring grimly slaughter to the fleecy flocks;?And she, as a rushing blast of flame she seemed?That maddeneth through the copses summer-scorched,?When the wind drives it on; and in this wise?Spake one to other in their mustering host:?"Who shall this be who thus can rouse to war?The Trojans, now that Hector hath been slain --?These who, we said, would never more find heart?To stand against us? Lo now, suddenly?Forth are they rushing, madly afire for fight!?Sure, in their midst some great one kindleth them?To battle's toil! Thou verily wouldst say?This were a God, of such great deeds he dreams!?Go to, with aweless courage let us arm?Our own breasts: let us summon up our might?In battle-fury. We shall lack not help?Of Gods this day to close in fight with Troy."
So cried they; and their flashing battle-gear?Cast they about them: forth the ships they poured?Clad in the rage of fight as with a cloak.?Then front to front their battles closed, like beasts?Of ravin, locked in tangle of gory strife.?Clanged their bright mail together, clashed the spears,?The corslets, and the stubborn-welded shields?And adamant helms. Each stabbed at other's flesh?With the fierce brass: was neither ruth nor rest,?And all the Trojan soil was crimson-red.
Then first Penthesileia smote and slew?Molion; now Persinous falls, and now?Eilissus; reeled Antitheus 'neath her spear?The pride of Lernus quelled she: down she bore?Hippalmus 'neath her horse-hoofs; Haemon's son?Died; withered stalwart Elasippus' strength.?And Derinoe laid low Laogonus,?And Clonie Menippus, him who sailed?Long since from Phylace, led by his lord?Protesilaus to the war with Troy.?Then was Podarces, son of Iphiclus,?Heart-wrung with ruth and wrath to see him lie?Dead, of all