The Fall of Troy | Page 7

battle-comrades best-beloved.?Swiftly at Clonie he hurled, the maid?Fair as a Goddess: plunged the unswerving lance?'Twixt hip and hip, and rushed the dark blood forth?After the spear, and all her bowels gushed out.?Then wroth was Penthesileia; through the brawn?Of his right arm she drave the long spear's point,?She shore atwain the great blood-brimming veins,?And through the wide gash of the wound the gore?Spirted, a crimson fountain. With a groan?Backward he sprang, his courage wholly quelled?By bitter pain; and sorrow and dismay?Thrilled, as he fled, his men of Phylace.?A short way from the fight he reeled aside,?And in his friends' arms died in little space.?Then with his lance Idomeneus thrust out,?And by the right breast stabbed Bremusa. Stilled?For ever was the beating of her heart.?She fell, as falls a graceful-shafted pine?Hewn mid the hills by woodmen: heavily,?Sighing through all its boughs, it crashes down.?So with a wailing shriek she fell, and death?Unstrung her every limb: her breathing soul?Mingled with multitudinous-sighing winds.?Then, as Evandre through the murderous fray?With Thermodosa rushed, stood Meriones,?A lion in the path, and slew: his spear?Right to the heart of one he drave, and one?Stabbed with a lightning sword-thrust 'twixt the hips:?Leapt through the wounds the life, and fled away.?Oileus' fiery son smote Derinoe?'Twixt throat and shoulder with his ruthless spear;?And on Alcibie Tydeus' terrible son?Swooped, and on Derimacheia: head with neck?Clean from the shoulders of these twain he shore?With ruin-wreaking brand. Together down?Fell they, as young calves by the massy axe?Of brawny flesher felled, that, shearing through?The sinews of the neck, lops life away.?So, by the hands of Tydeus' son laid low?Upon the Trojan plain, far, far away?From their own highland-home, they fell. Nor these?Alone died; for the might of Sthenelus?Down on them hurled Cabeirus' corse, who came?From Sestos, keen to fight the Argive foe,?But never saw his fatherland again.?Then was the heart of Paris filled with wrath?For a friend slain. Full upon Sthenelus?Aimed he a shaft death-winged, yet touched him not,?Despite his thirst for vengeance: otherwhere?The arrow glanced aside, and carried death?Whither the stern Fates guided its fierce wing,?And slew Evenor brazen-tasleted,?Who from Dulichium came to war with Troy.?For his death fury-kindled was the son?Of haughty Phyleus: as a lion leaps?Upon the flock, so swiftly rushed he: all?Shrank huddling back before that terrible man.?Itymoneus he slew, and Hippasus' son?Agelaus: from Miletus brought they war?Against the Danaan men by Nastes led,?The god-like, and Amphimachus mighty-souled.?On Mycale they dwelt; beside their home?Rose Latmus' snowy crests, stretched the long glens?Of Branchus, and Panormus' water-meads.?Maeander's flood deep-rolling swept thereby,?Which from the Phrygian uplands, pastured o'er?By myriad flocks, around a thousand forelands?Curls, swirls, and drives his hurrying ripples on?Down to the vine-clad land of Carian men?These mid the storm of battle Meges slew,?Nor these alone, but whomsoe'er his lance?Black-shafted touched, were dead men; for his breast?The glorious Trito-born with courage thrilled?To bring to all his foes the day of doom.?And Polypoetes, dear to Ares, slew?Dresaeus, whom the Nymph Neaera bare?To passing-wise Theiodamas for these?Spread was the bed of love beside the foot?Of Sipylus the Mountain, where the Gods?Made Niobe a stony rock, wherefrom?Tears ever stream: high up, the rugged crag?Bows as one weeping, weeping, waterfalls?Cry from far-echoing Hermus, wailing moan?Of sympathy: the sky-encountering crests?Of Sipylus, where alway floats a mist?Hated of shepherds, echo back the cry.?Weird marvel seems that Rock of Niobe?To men that pass with feet fear-goaded: there?They see the likeness of a woman bowed,?In depths of anguish sobbing, and her tears?Drop, as she mourns grief-stricken, endlessly.?Yea, thou wouldst say that verily so it was,?Viewing it from afar; but when hard by?Thou standest, all the illusion vanishes;?And lo, a steep-browed rock, a fragment rent?From Sipylus -- yet Niobe is there,?Dreeing her weird, the debt of wrath divine,?A broken heart in guise of shattered stone.
All through the tangle of that desperate fray?Stalked slaughter and doom. The incarnate Onset-shout?Raved through the rolling battle; at her side?Paced Death the ruthless, and the Fearful Faces,?The Fates, beside them strode, and in red hands?Bare murder and the groans of dying men.?That day the beating of full many a heart,?Trojan and Argive, was for ever stilled,?While roared the battle round them, while the fury?Of Penthesileia fainted not nor failed;?But as amid long ridges of lone hills?A lioness, stealing down a deep ravine,?Springs on the kine with lightning leap, athirst?For blood wherein her fierce heart revelleth;?So on the Danaans leapt that warrior-maid.?And they, their souls were cowed: backward they shrank,?And fast she followed, as a towering surge?Chases across the thunder-booming sea?A flying bark, whose white sails strain beneath?The wind's wild buffering, and all the air?Maddens with roaring, as the rollers crash?On a black foreland looming on the lee?Where long reefs fringe the surf-tormented shores.?So chased she, and so dashed the ranks asunder?Triumphant-souled, and hurled fierce threats before:?"Ye dogs, this day for evil outrage done?To Priam shall ye pay!