Part 2
Ye gathered Trojans, sharers of my word, Who dares to creep through the Greek lines alone? Who will so help his fatherland? Doth none Offer? Must I do everything, one hand Alone, to save our allies and our land?
[_A lean dark man pushes forward from the back._
DOLON.
I, Prince!--I offer for our City's sake To go disguised to the Greek ships, to make Their counsels mine, and here bring word to thee. If that be thy full service, I agree.
HECTOR. [vv. 158-171]
Dolon the Wolf! A wise wolf and a true! Thy father's house was praised when first I knew Troy: this shall raise it twofold in our eyes.
DOLON.
'Tis wise to do good work, but also wise To pay the worker. Aye, and fair reward Makes twofold pleasure, though the work be hard.
HECTOR.
So be it: an honest rule. Do thou lay down What guerdon likes thee best--short of my crown.
DOLON.
I care not for thy crowned and care-fraught life.
HECTOR.
Wouldst have a daughter of the King to wife?
DOLON.
I seek no mate that might look down on me.
HECTOR.
Good gold is ready, if that tempteth thee.
DOLON.
We live at ease and have no care for gold.
HECTOR.
Well, Troy hath other treasures manifold.
DOLON. [vv. 172-183]
Pay me not now, but when the Greeks are ta'en.
HECTOR.
The Greeks! . . . Choose any save the Atridae twain.
DOLON.
Kill both, an it please thee. I make prayer for none.
HECTOR.
Thou wilt not ask for Ajax, Ileus' son?
DOLON.
A princely hand is skilless at the plough.
HECTOR.
'Tis ransom, then? . . . What prisoner cravest thou?
DOLON.
I said before, of gold we have our fill.
HECTOR.
For spoils and armour . . . thou shalt choose at will.
DOLON.
Nail them for trophies on some temple wall.
HECTOR.
What seeks the man? What prize more rich than all?
DOLON.
Achilles' horses! [_Murmurs of surprise._ Yes, I need a great Prize. I am dicing for my life with Fate.
HECTOR. [vv. 184-203]
'Fore God, I am thy rival, if thy love Lies there. Undying was the breed thereof, And these shall never die, who bear to war Great Peleus' son, swift gleaming like a star. Poseidon, rider of the wild sea-drift, Tamed them, men say, and gave them for his gift To Peleus.--None the less, since I have stirred Hopes, I will baulk them not. I pledge my word, Achilles' steeds, a rare prize, shall be thine.
DOLON.
I thank thee.--'Tis indeed a prize more fine Than all in Troy.--Grudge me not that; there be Guerdons abundant for a Prince like thee. [_Exit_ HECTOR.
CHORUS. [_Antistr._
O peril strange, O fearful prize! Yet win it and thy life hath wings: A deed of glory in men's eyes, And greatness, to be wooed of kings. If God but hearken to the right, Thou drinkest to the full this night The cup of man's imaginings.
DOLON.
[_He stands waiting a moment looking out into the dark._
There lies the way.--But first I must go find At home some body-shelter to my mind; Then, forward to the ships of Argolis!
LEADER. [vv. 204-223]
What other raiment wilt thou need than this?
DOLON.
A garb for work, for night; a thieving guise.
LEADER.
'Tis good to learn the wisdoms of the wise. What will thy wrapping be?
DOLON.
A grey wolf's hide Shall wrap my body close on either side; My head shall be the mask of gleaming teeth, My arms fit in the forepaws, like a sheath, My thighs in the hinder parts. No Greek shall tell 'Tis not a wolf that walks, half visible, On four feet by the trenches and around The ship-screen. When it comes to empty ground It stands on two.--That is the plan, my friend!
LEADER.
Now Maian Hermes guide thee to thy end And home safe! Well he loves all counterfeit . . . Good work is there; may good luck go with it!
DOLON (_to himself gazing out toward the Greek camp_).
There, and then back! . . . And on this belt shall bleed Odysseus' head--or why not Diomede?-- To prove my truth. Ere dawn can touch the land I shall be here, and blood upon my hand. [_Exit_ DOLON.
CHORUS. [vv. 224-255]
Thymbraean, Delian, Birth divine, That walkest Lycia's inmost shrine, Come, strong to guard, to guide, to follow, Come, bow in hand and girt with night, To help thy Dardans as of old, When stone by stone thy music rolled-- O conquering Strength, O Sire Apollo!-- Young Ilion into towers of light.
Grant that he reach the shipyard, creep Keen-eyed through all that host asleep, Then back to home and hearth, yet living, Where now his father prays alone: Yea, grant that, when the Greeks are slain, Our wolf shall mount with scourge and rein Those coursers of the sea-god's giving, Whom Peleus drove in days foregone.
* * * * *
Alone in those Greek ships to stake His life, for home and country's sake: 'Tis wondrous! Few be hearts so true When seas across the bulwark break, And sunlight sickens o'er the crew. Ah, Phrygia still hath hearts of rock! The Phrygian spear flies fast and far! Where shall ye find the fool to mock Our works in war?
Whom will he stab a-sleeping, whom, The quick grey wolf, the crawling doom? Grant that he slay the Spartan! Nay, Or Agamemnon's head and plume [vv. 256-272] To Helen bear at dawn of day! A lightsome dawn to hear her wail Her brother sworn, her King who came To Ilion with his thousand sail, And swords, and flame!
[_As the song ends_ DOLON _reappears, in the disguise of a wolf. The Guards gather round him, bidding him godspeed as he crawls off in the dark towards the Greek camp. Meantime from the direction of Mount Ida has entered a_ SHEPHERD _who goes to_ HECTOR's _door and calls. The Guards seeing him return to their places._
SHEPHERD.
Ho, Master! [_Enter_ HECTOR _from tent_. I would it ofttimes were my luck to share As goodly news with thee as now I bear.
HECTOR.
What dulness hangs about these shepherds! Block, Com'st thou to us with tidings of thy flock Here in the field in arms? Who wants thee here? Thou know'st my house; thou know'st my father's. There Tell all about thy lucky lambs.--Now go.
SHEPHERD.
Dull wits, we shepherds! Aye, 'twas alway so. Yet still, there is some good news to be told.
HECTOR. [vv. 273-288]
A truce there to thy gossip of the fold! Our dealings are of war, of sword and spear. [_He turns to go._
SHEPHERD.
Aye; so were mine. That is what brought me here. [HECTOR's _manner changes_. A chief comes yonder, leading a great band Of spears, with help to thee and all the land.
HECTOR.
From whence? How do his name and lineage run?
SHEPHERD.
He comes from Thrace, the River Strymon's son.
HECTOR.
Rhesus! Not Rhesus, here on Trojan soil?
SHEPHERD.
Thou hast guessed. That eases me of half my toil.
HECTOR.
What makes he there towards Ida? All astray Thus from the plain and the broad waggon-way!
SHEPHERD.
I know not rightly, though one well may guess. 'Tis hard to land at night, with such a press Of spears, on a strange coast, where rumours tell Of foes through all the plain-land. We that dwell On Ida, in the rock, Troy's ancient root And hearth-stone, were well frighted, through the mute [vv. 289-316] And wolfish thickets thus to hear him break. A great and rushing noise those Thracians make, Marching. We, all astonied, ran to drive Our sheep to the upmost heights. 'Twas some Argive, We thought, who came to sweep the mountain clear And waste thy folds; till suddenly our ear Caught at their speech, and knew 'twas nothing Greek. Then all our terror fled. I ran to seek Some scout or pioneer who led the van And called in Thracian: "Ho, what child of man Doth lead you? From what nation do ye bring This host with aid to Ilion and her king?" He told me what I sought, and there I stood Watching; and saw one gleaming like a God, Tall in the darkness on a Thracian car. A plate of red gold mated, like a bar, His coursers' necks, white, white as fallen snow. A carven targe, with golden shapes aglow, Hung o'er his back. Before each courser's head A Gorgon, to the frontlet riveted, With bells set round--like stories that they tell Of Pallas' shield--made music terrible. The numbers of that host no pen could write Nor reckon; 'tis a multitudinous sight, Long lines of horsemen, lines of targeteers, Archers abundant; and behind them veers A wavering horde, light-armed, in Thracian weed. A friend is come to Ilion in her need 'Gainst whom no Argive, let him fly or stand, Shall aught avail nor 'scape his conquering hand.
LEADER. [vv. 317-331]
Lo, when the Gods breathe gently o'er a town, All runs to good, as water-streams run down.
HECTOR (_bitterly_).
Aye, when my spear hath fortune, when God sends His favour, I shall find abundant friends. I need them not; who never came of yore To help us, when we rolled to death before The war-swell, and the wind had ripped our sail. Then Rhesus taught us Trojans what avail His words are.--He comes early to the feast; Where was he when the hunters met the beast? Where, when we sank beneath the Argive spear?
LEADER.
Well may'st thou mock and blame thy friend. Yet here He comes with help for Troy. Accept him thou.
HECTOR.
We are enough, who have held the wall till now.
LEADER.
Master, dost think already that our foe Is ta'en?
HECTOR.
I do. To-morrow's light will show.
LEADER. [vv. 332-345]
Have care. Fate often flings a backward cast.
HECTOR.
I hate the help that comes when need is past . . . Howbeit, once come, I bid him welcome here As guest--not war-friend; guest to share our cheer. The thanks are lost, he might have won from us.
LEADER.
My general, to reject an ally thus Must needs make hatred.
SHEPHERD.
The mere sight of those I saw would sure cast fear upon our foes.
HECTOR (_yielding reluctantly, with a laugh_).
Ah, well; thy words are prudent; and (_To_ SHEPHERD) thine eyes See glorious things. With all these panoplies Of gold that filled our Shepherd's heart with joy, Bid Rhesus welcome, as war-friend to Troy.
[_Exit_ SHEPHERD; HECTOR _returns to his tent, amid the joy of the soldiers_.
CHORUS.
Now Adrasteia be near and guard Our lips from sin, lest the end be hard! But he cometh, he cometh, the Child of the River! The pride of my heart it shall roll unbarred.
We craved thy coming; yea, need was strong [vv. 346-378] In the Hall of thy lovers, O child of Song; Thy mother the Muse and her fair-bridged River They held thee from us so long, so long!
By Strymon's torrent alone she sang, And Strymon shivered and coiled and sprang; And her arms went wide to the wild sweet water, And the love of the River around her rang.
We hail thee, Fruit of the River's seed, Young Zeus of the Dawn, on thy starry steed! O ancient City, O Ida's daughter, Is God the Deliverer found indeed?
And men shall tell of thee, Ilion mine, Once more a-harping at day's decline, 'Mid laughing of lovers and lays and dances And challenge on challenge of circling wine?
When the Greek is smitten that day shall be, And fled to Argolis over the sea: O mighty of hand, O leader of lances, Smite him, and heaven be good to thee!
Thou Rider golden and swift and sheer, Achilles falters: appear! appear! The car like flame where the red shield leapeth, The fell white steeds and the burning spear!
No Greek shall boast he hath seen thy face And danced again in the dancing place; And the land shall laugh for the sheaves she reapeth, Of spoilers dead by a sword from Thrace.
_Enter_ RHESUS _in dazzling white armour, followed by his_ [vv. 379-395] CHARIOTEER _and Attendants. The_ CHARIOTEER _carries his golden shield. The_ CHORUS _break into a shout of "All Hail!"_
LEADER.
All hail, great King! A whelp indeed Is born in Thracia's lion fold, Whose leap shall make strong cities bleed. Behold his body girt with gold, And hark the pride of bells along The frontlet of that targe's hold.
CHORUS.
A God, O Troy, a God and more! 'Tis Ares' self, this issue strong Of Strymon and the Muse of song, Whose breath is fragrant on thy shore!
_Re-enter_ HECTOR.
RHESUS.
Lord Hector, Prince of Ilion, noble son Of noble sires, all hail! Long years have run Since last we greeted, and 'tis joy this day To see thy fortunes firm and thine array Camped at the foe's gate. Here am I to tame That foe for thee, and wrap his ships in flame.
HECTOR.
Thou child of Music and the Thracian flood, Strymonian Rhesus, truth is alway good In Hector's eyes. I wear no double heart. Long, long ago thou shouldst have borne thy part [vv. 396-421] In Ilion's labours, not have left us here, For all thy help, to sink beneath the spear. Why didst thou--not for lack of need made plain!-- Not come, not send, not think of us again? What grave ambassadors prayed not before Thy throne, what herald knelt not at thy door? What pride of gifts did Troy not send to thee? And thou, a lord of Barbary even as we, Thou, brother of our blood, like one at sup Who quaffs his fill and flings away the cup, Hast flung to the Greeks my city! Yet, long since, 'Twas I that found thee but a little prince And made thee mighty, I and this right hand; When round Pangaion and the Paion's land, Front against front, I burst upon the brood Of Thrace and broke their targes, and subdued Their power to thine. The grace whereof, not small, Thou hast spurned, and when thy kinsmen, drowning, call, Comest too late. Thou! Others there have been These long years, not by nature of our kin . . . Some under yon rough barrows thou canst see Lie buried; they were true to Troy and me; And others, yet here in the shielded line Or mid the chariots, parching in the shine Of noonday, starving in the winds that bite Through Ilion's winter, still endure and fight On at my side. 'Twas not their way, to lie On a soft couch and, while the cups go by, Pledge my good health, like thee, in Thracian wine. I speak as a free man. With thee and thine Hector is wroth, and tells thee to thy face.
RHESUS. [vv. 422-448]
Thy way is mine, friend. Straight I run my race In word and deed, and bear no double tongue. I tell thee, more than thine my heart was wrung, Yea, angered past all durance, thus to stay Back from thy battles. 'Twas a folk that lay Hard on my borders, Scythians of the north; Just when my host for Troy had started forth, They fell upon our homes. I had reached the coast Of the Friendless Sea and purposed to have crossed My Thracians there. We turned; and all that plain Is trampled in a mire of Scythian slain Ploughed by our spears, and blood of Thrace withal Not stinted. This it was that drowned thy call For help and held me back from Ilion's need. I broke their power; the princes of their breed I took to hostage, made their elders swear To bring my house due tribute, year by year, Then, never lagging, crossed the Pontus mouth, Marched by long stages through Bithynia south And here am come . . . not drunken with the feast, As thou wouldst have me be, not lulled to rest In golden chambers. In this harness hard I have borne my nights of winter storm that starred The Euxine into ice and scared the strong Paionians. Long I have been, but not too long To save thee yet. Friend, this is the tenth year Thou labourest on unceasing, with no clear Vantage; day creeps by day, and Ares throws The same red dice for thee and for thy foes. Now, hear my vow. Before one day's eclipse I swear to break their wall, to burn their ships And slay their princes. On the second day [vv. 449-473] I leave this soil and take my homeward way, Thy pains relieved. No Trojan of the land Need move, nor turn the buckler in his hand. Alone my late-comers will turn the tide And smite your Greeks, for all their bitter pride.
CHORUS.
[_The Trojan soldiers, who have been listening with delight, here break out in irrepressible applause._
All hail! Sweet words and faithful heart! Only may Zeus avert From those proud lips the Wrath that none may bear! Never a galleon bore, Now, nor in days of yore, Prince like to thee, so valiant and so fair. How shall Achilles, how Shall Ajax bear him now, Or face thy lance? May I but stand that day Watching to see him reel Broken beneath thy steel, And once in blood his many murders pay!
RHESUS.
Yea, more atonement thou shalt take from me For this slow help.--May Adrasteia see My heart and pardon!--When we two have set Troy free from these who compass her with hate, Soon as the Gods have had their first-fruits, I With thee will sail--so help me Zeus on high!-- And sack all Hellas with the sword, till these Doers of deeds shall know what suffering is.
HECTOR. [vv. 474-491]
By heaven, could I once see this peril rolled Past us, and live in Ilion as of old, Untrembling, I would thank my gods! To seek Argos and sack the cities of the Greek-- 'Twere not such light work as thou fanciest.
RHESUS.
These Greeks that face thee, are they not their best?
HECTOR.
We seek not better. These do all we need.
RHESUS.
When these are beaten, then, we have done the deed.
HECTOR.
Lose not thy path watching a distant view.
RHESUS.
Thou seem'st content to suffer, not to do?
HECTOR.
I have a kingdom large by mine own right. . . .
What station will best please thee in this fight To ground the targe and stablish thine array? Right, left, or midmost in the allies? Say.
RHESUS.
'Twould please me best to fight these Greeks alone. Yet, if 'twould irk thine honour not to have thrown One firebrand on the ships with me, why, then Set us to face Achilles and his men.
HECTOR. [vv. 492-509]
Achilles? Nay, his spear ye cannot meet.
RHESUS.
How so? Fame said he sailed here with the fleet.
HECTOR.
He sailed, and he is here. But some despite 'Gainst the great King now keeps him from the fight.
RHESUS.
Who next to him hath honour in their host?
HECTOR.
Next, to my seeming, Ajax hath the most, Or Diomede.--But Odysseus is a tough And subtle fox, and brave; aye, brave enough. No man of them hath harmed us more than he. He climbed here to Athena's sanctuary One night, and stole her image clean away To the Argive ships. Yes, and another day, Guised as a wandering priest, in rags, he came And walked straight through the Gates, made loud acclaim Of curses on the Greek, spied out alone All that he sought in Ilion, and was gone-- Gone, and the watch and helpers of the Gate Dead! And in every ambush they have set By the old Altar, close to Troy, we know He sits--a murderous reptile of a foe!
RHESUS. [vv. 510-529]
No brave man seeks so dastardly to harm His battle-foes; he meets them arm to arm. This Greek of thine, this sitter like a thief In ambush, I will make of him my chief Care. I will take him living, drive a straight Stake through him, and so star him at the Gate To feed your wide-winged vultures. 'Tis the death Most meet for a lewd thief, who pillageth God's sanctuary, or so we hold in Thrace.
HECTOR (_making no answer_).
Seek first some sleep. There still remains a space Of darkness.--I will show the spot that best May suit you, somewhat sundered from the rest. Should need arise, the password of the night Is Phoebus: see your Thracians have it right. [_Turning to the Guards before he goes._ Advance beyond your stations, men, at some Distance, and stay on watch till Dolon come With word of the Argives' counsel. If his vow Prosper, 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_.
CHORUS.
Say, whose is the watch? Who exchanges With us? The first planets to rise Are setting; the Pleiades seven [vv. 530-545] Move low on the margin of heaven, And the Eagle is risen and ranges The mid-vault of the skies.
ANOTHER.
No sleeping yet! Up from your couches And watch on, the sluggards ye are! The moon-maiden's lamp is yet burning.
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?
ANOTHER.
'Twas one Koroibos, called the Mygdon's Son.
THE GUARD.
And after?
THE OTHER.
The Mount Taurus men Had second watch: from them again The Mysians took it. We came then.
A GUARD.
'Tis surely time. Who will go tell The fifth watch? 'Tis the Lycians' spell By now; 'twas thus the portions fell.
ANOTHER. [vv. 546-561]
Nay, hearken! Again she is crying Where 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 undying The nightingale calls.
ANOTHER.
And on Ida the shepherds are waking Their flocks for the upland. I hear The skirl of a pipe very distant.
ANOTHER.
And sleep, it falls slow and insistent. 'Tis perilous sweet when the breaking Of dawn is so near.
DIVERS GUARDS (_talking_).
Why have we still no word nor sign Of that scout in the Argive line?
ANOTHER.
I know not; he is long delayed.
ANOTHER.
God send he trip not on the blade Of some Greek in an ambuscade!
ANOTHER.
It may be. I am half afraid.
LEADER. [vv. 562-572]
Our time is past! Up, men, and tell The fifth watch. 'Tis the Lycians' spell Now, 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 arms Clanking. . . or am I full of void alarms?
DIOMEDE.
No. 'Tis some horse tied to the chariot rail That clanks his chain.--My heart began to fail A moment, till I heard the horse's champ.
[_They steal on further, keeping in the shadow._
ODYSSEUS.
Mind--in that shade--the watchers of the camp.
DIOMEDE.
I keep in shadow, but I am staring hard.
ODYSSEUS.
Thou know'st the watchword, if we stir some guard?
DIOMEDE. [vv. 573-584]
Phoebus. 'Twas the last sign that Dolon gave.
[_They creep forward in silence to the entrance of_ HECTOR's _tent_.
ODYSSEUS.
Now, forward!
[_They dash into the tent, swords drawn; then return._
God! All empty as the grave!
DIOMEDE.
Yet Dolon told us Hector's couch was made Just here. For none but him I drew this blade.
ODYSSEUS.
What means it? To some ambush is he gone?
DIOMEDE.
Maybe, to work some craft on us at dawn.
ODYSSEUS.
He is hot with courage when he is winning, hot.
DIOMEDE.
What must we do, Odysseus?--He was not Laid where we thought him, and our hopes are lost.
ODYSSEUS.
Back to our own ship-rampart at all cost! The God who gave him victory saves him still. We cannot force Fortune against her will.