The Fall of Troy | Page 6

her of the War-god. First she laid

Beneath her silver-gleaming knees the greaves
Fashioned of gold,
close-clipping the strong limbs.
Her rainbow-radiant corslet clasped
she then
About her, and around her shoulders slung,
With glory in
her heart, the massy brand
Whose shining length was in a scabbard
sheathed
Of ivory and silver. Next, her shield
Unearthly splendid,
caught she up, whose rim
Swelled like the young moon's arching
chariot-rail
When high o'er Ocean's fathomless-flowing stream
She
rises, with the space half filled with light

Betwixt 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