Part 3
DIOMEDE. [vv. 585-598]
Could we not find Aeneas? Or the bed Of Paris the accurst, and have his head?
ODYSSEUS.
Go by night searching through these lines of men For chiefs to kill? 'Twere death and death again.
DIOMEDE.
But to go empty back--what shame 'twill be!-- And not one blow struck home at the enemy!
ODYSSEUS.
How not one blow? Did we not baulk and kill Dolon, their spy, and bear his tokens still? Dost think the whole camp should be thine to quell?
[DIOMEDE _takes_ DOLON's _wolf-mask off his belt and hangs it in_ HECTOR's _tent, then turns_.
DIOMEDE.
Good. Now for home! And may the end be well!
[_As they turn there appears at the back a luminous and gigantic shape, the Goddess_ ATHENA.
ATHENA.
What make ye, from these sleepers thus to part Desponding and with sorrow-wounded heart If Hector be not granted you to slay Nor Paris? Little know ye what great stay Of help is found for Troy. This very night [vv. 599-623] Rhesus is come; who, if he see the light Of morning, not Achilles nor the rack Of Ajax' spear hath power to hold him back, Ere wall and gate be shattered and inside Your camp a spear-swept causeway builded wide To where beached galleys flame above the dead. Him slay, and all is won. Let Hector's head Sleep where it lies and draw unvexed breath; Another's work, not thine, is Hector's death.
ODYSSEUS.
Most high Athena, well I know the sound Of that immortal voice. 'Tis ever found My helper in great perils.--Where doth lie Rhesus, mid all this host of Barbary?
ATHENA.
Full near he lies, not mingled with the host Of Troy, but here beyond the lines--a post Of quiet till the dawn, that Hector found. And near him, by his Thracian chariot bound, Two snow-white coursers gleam against the wan Moon, like the white wing of a river swan. Their master slain, take these to thine own hearth, A wondrous spoil; there hides not upon earth A chariot-team of war so swift and fair.
ODYSSEUS.
Say, Diomede, wilt make the men thy share, Or catch the steeds and leave the fight to me?
DIOMEDE. [vv. 624-638]
I take the killing, thou the stablery: It needs keen wit and a neat hand. The post A man should take is where he helpeth most.
ATHENA.
Behold, 'tis Paris, hasting there toward This tent. Methinks he knoweth from the guard Some noise of prowling Argives hither blown.
DIOMEDE.
Comes he alone or with his guards?
ATHENA.
Alone; Toward Hector's quarters, as I deem, he plies His message. He hath heard some tale of spies.
DIOMEDE.
Then he shall be the first dead Trojan!
ATHENA.
No; Beyond the ordained end thou canst not go. Fate hath not willed that Paris by thy deed Shall die; it is another who must bleed To-night. Therefore be swift! [_Exeunt_ ODYSSEUS _and_ DIOMEDE. For me, my guise Shall melt and change in Alexander's eyes, Yea, till he dream 'tis Cypris, his delight And help in need, that meets him in the night, And soft shall be my words to him I hate. [vv. 639-658] So speak I; but on whom my spell is set He hears not, sees not, though so near I stand. [_She becomes invisible where she stands._
_Enter_ PARIS.
PARIS.
Ho, Hector! Brother! General of the land! Sleepest thou still? We need thy waking sight. Our guards have marked some prowler of the night, We know not if a mere thief or a spy.
[ATHENA _becomes visible again, but seems changed and her voice softer_.
ATHENA.
Have comfort thou! Doth not the Cyprian's eye Mark all thy peril and keep watch above Thy battles? How shall I forget the love I owe thee, and thy faithful offices? To crown this day and all its victories, Lo, I have guided here to Troy a strong Helper, the scion of the Muse of song And Strymon's flood, the crowned stream of Thrace.
PARIS (_standing like one in a dream_).
Indeed thy love is steadfast, and thy grace Bounteous to Troy and me. Thou art the joy And jewel of my days, which I to Troy Have brought, and made thee hers.--O Cyprian, I heard, not clearly,--'twas some talk that ran Among the pickets--spies had passed some spot Close by the camp. The men who saw them not Talk much, and they who saw, or might have seen, [vv. 659-676] Can give no sign nor token. It had been My purpose to find Hector where he lay.
ATHENA.
Fear nothing. All is well in Troy's array. Hector is gone to help those Thracians sleep.
PARIS.
Thy word doth rule me, Goddess. Yea, so deep My trust is, that all thought of fear is lost In comfort, and I turn me to my post.
ATHENA.
Go. And remember that thy fortunes still Are watched by me, and they who do my will Prosper in all their ways. Aye, thou shalt prove Ere long, if I can care for those I love. [_Exit_ PARIS. _She raises her voice._ Back, back, ye twain! Are ye in love with death? Laertes' son, thy sword into the sheath! Our golden Thracian gaspeth in his blood; The steeds are ours; the foe hath understood And crowds against you. Haste ye! haste to fly,-- Ere yet the lightning falleth, and ye die!
[ATHENA _vanishes; a noise of tumult is heard_.
_Enter a crowd of Thracians running in confusion, in the midst of them_ ODYSSEUS _and_ DIOMEDE.
VOICES (_amid the tumult_).
Ha! Ha!--At them! At them! After them! Down with them!--Where are they?
CAPTAIN. [vv. 677-685]
Who is that fellow? Look! That yonder!
A MAN.
Rascal thieves, the sort that crawl And vex an army in the dark!
CAPTAIN.
Ho, this way! Follow! This way all!
[_They pursue_ ODYSSEUS _and_ DIOMEDE; _catch them and bring them back_.
A MAN.
I have them! I have caught them!
CAPTAIN (_to_ ODYSSEUS).
Whence comest thou? What art thou? Say; what captain and what company?
ODYSSEUS (_indignantly_).
'Tis not for thee to know. This day thou diest for thy knavery!
CAPTAIN.
Stop! Give the watchword quick, before I have thy body on my pike.
ODYSSEUS (_in a tone of authority_).
Halt every man and have no fear!
CAPTAIN.
Come, gather round. Be quick to strike.
ODYSSEUS (_to_ CAPTAIN). [vv. 686-689]
'Twas thou that killed King Rhesus!
CAPTAIN.
No: 'tis I that kill the man that killed . . .
[_Flies at_ ODYSSEUS, _but other men hold him back_.
ODYSSEUS.
Hold back all!
VOICES.
No more holding back!
ODYSSEUS (_as they attack him_).
What, strike an ally in the field?
CAPTAIN.
Then give the watchword!
ODYSSEUS.
Phoebus.
CAPTAIN.
Right. Ho, every man hold back his spear!-- Then know'st thou where the men are gone?
ODYSSEUS.
We saw them running, somewhere here.
[_He makes off into the darkness._ DIOMEDE _follows, and some Thracians_.
CAPTAIN. [vv. 690-703]
Off every one upon their track!
A MAN.
Or should we rouse the army?
CAPTAIN.
No; To stir the allies in the night and make more panic! Let us go.
[_The Thracians go off in pursuit. Meantime the original Guards who form the Chorus have hastened back. The two Greeks are presently seen crossing at the back in a different direction._
CHORUS.
Who was the man that passed? Who, that, so madly bold. Even as I held him fast, Laughed, and I loosed my hold? Where shall I find him now? What shall I deem of him, To steal thro' the guards a-row, Quaking not, eye nor limb, On thro' the starlight dim? Is he of Thessaly, Born by the Locrian sea, Or harvester of some starved island's corn? What man hath seen his face? What was his name or race, What the high God by whom his sires have sworn?
DIVERS GUARDS (_talking_). [vv. 704-724]
This night must be Odysseus' work, or whose?-- Odysseus? Aye, to judge by ancient use.-- Odysseus surely!--That is thy belief?-- What else? It seems he hath no fear Of such as we!--Whom praise ye there? Whose prowess? Say!--Odysseus.--Nay, Praise not the secret stabbing of a thief!
CHORUS.
He came once, of old, Up thro' the city throng, Foam on his lips, a-cold, Huddled in rags that hung Covering just the sword Hid in his mantle's pleat; His face grimed and scored, A priest of wandering feet, Who begged his bread in the street. Many and evil things He cast on the brother kings Like one long hurt, who nurseth anger sore; Would that a curse, yea, would The uttermost wrath of God Had held those feet from walking Ilion's shore!
DIVERS GUARDS (_talking_).
Odysseus or another, 'tis the guard Will weep for this. Aye, Hector will be hard.-- What will he say?--He will suspect.--Suspect? What evil? What should make you fear?-- [vv. 725-737] 'Twas we that left a passage clear.-- A passage?--Yea, for these men's way, Who came by night into the lines unchecked.
[_A sound of moaning outside in the darkness, which has been heard during the last few lines, now grows into articulate words._
VOICE.
Woe, woe! The burden of the wrath of fate!
GUARDS.
Ha, listen! Wait. Crouch on the ground; it may be yet Our man is drawing to the net.
VOICE.
Woe, woe! The burden of the hills of Thrace!
LEADER.
An ally? None of Hellene race.
VOICE.
Woe, woe! Yea, woe to me and woe to thee, My master! Once to set thine eye On Ilion the accurst, and die!
LEADER (_calling aloud_).
Ho there! What ally passes? The dim night Blurreth mine eyes; I cannot see thee right.
VOICE. [vv. 738-756]
Ho, some one of the Trojan name! Where sleeps your king beneath his shield, Hector? What marshal of the field Will hear our tale . . . the men who came And struck us and were gone; and we, We woke and there was nought to see, But our own misery.
LEADER.
I cannot hear him right; it sounds as if The Thracians were surprised or in some grief.
[_There enters a wounded man, walking with difficulty; he is the Thracian Charioteer who came with_ RHESUS.
THRACIAN.
The army lost and the king slain, Stabbed in the dark! Ah, pain! pain! This deep raw wound . . . Oh, let me die By thy side, Master, by thy side! In shame together let us lie Who came to save, and failed and died.
LEADER.
This needs no surmise: 'tis disaster plain That comes. He speaketh of some ally slain.
THRACIAN.
Disaster, yea: and with disaster shame, Which lights Disaster to a twofold flame Of evil. For to die in soldier's wise, [vv. 757-787] Since die we needs must . . . though the man who dies Hath pain . . . to all his house 'tis praise and pride; But we, like laggards and like fools we died! When Hector's hand had showed us where to rest And told the watchword, down we lay, oppressed With weariness of that long march, and slept Just as we fell. No further watch was kept, Our arms not laid beside us; by the horse No yoke nor harness ordered. Hector's force Had victory, so my master heard, and lay Secure, just waiting for the dawn of day To attack. So thought we all, and our lines broke And slept. After a little time I woke, Thinking about my horses, that the morn Must see them yoked for war. I found the corn And gave them plenteously. Then in the deep Shadow I saw two men who seemed to creep Close by our line, but swiftly, as I stirred, Crouched and were seeking to make off unheard. I shouted then, and bade them keep away: Two thieves, I thought, from the great host that lay Round us. They never answered, and, for me, I said no more but turned and presently Was sleeping. In my sleep there came a dream. I seemed to see the horses--mine own team I had trained long since and drove at Rhesus' side-- But wolves were on their backs, wolves, couched astride, Who drove and scourged; I saw the horses rear And stagger with wide nostrils, stiff with fear, And, starting up to drive the beasts away, I woke.--A terror of great darkness lay [vv. 788-809] About me, but I lifted up my head And listened. There was moaning, like the dead That moan at night, and over me there flowed, So soft, so warm--it was my master's blood, Who writhed beside me, dying! With a bound I sprang up, empty-handed, groping round For spear or sword, when, lo, a young strong man Was close to me and slashed, and the sword ran Deep through my flank. I felt its passage well, So deep, so wide, so spreading . . . then I fell. And they, they got the bridles in their hand And fled. . . . Ah! Ah! This pain. I cannot stand. [_The Guards catch him as he reels, and lay him on the ground._ I know, I saw, thus much. But why or how Those dead men went to death I cannot know, Nor by whose work. But this I say; God send 'Tis not foul wrong wrought on us by a friend.
LEADER.
Good charioteer of that ill-fortuned king, Suspect us not. 'Tis Greeks have done this thing. But yonder Hector comes. He hath been shown The foul deed, and thy sorrows are his own.
_Enter_ HECTOR _in wrath, with a band of Guards_.
HECTOR.
Ye workers of amazement! Have your eyes No sight? Ye watch and let these Argive spies Pass--and our friends are butchered in their sleep-- [vv. 810-834] And then pass back unwounded, laughing deep Amid the galleys at the news they bring Of Trojan sluggards and the fool their king? Great God, ye never baulked them as they came, Nor smote them as they went! [_His eye falls on the_ CAPTAIN. Who bears the blame Of this but thou? Thou wast the watcher set To guard this host till morn. I tell thee yet For this deed--I have sworn by Zeus our Lord!-- The scourge of torment or the headsman's sword Awaits thee. Else, be Hector in your thought Writ down a babbler and a man of nought.
LEADER (_grovelling before_ HECTOR).
Woe, woe! It was for thee, only for thee, I must have gone, O Help and Majesty, That time with message that the fires were burning. Mine eye was keen; I swear by Simois river, It never drooped nor slumbered, never, never, From eve till morning! My master, verily, I am innocent utterly, Build not such wrath against me, Lord, nor harden Thy heart; let Time be judge; and if in deed Or word I have offended, let me bleed! Bury me here alive! I ask no pardon.
[HECTOR _is standing over him ready to strike when the_ CHARIOTEER _speaks_.
THRACIAN.
Why threaten them? Art thou a Greek to blind My barbarous wit so nimbly, in a wind Of words? This work was thine. And no man's head [vv. 835-861] Is asked by us, the wounded and the dead, Save thine. It needs more play, and better feigned, To hide from me that thou hast slain thy friend By craft, to steal his horses.--That is why He stabs his friends. He prays them earnestly, Prays them to come; they came and they are dead. A cleaner man was Paris, when he fled With his host's wife. He was no murderer. Profess not thou that any Greek was there To fall on us. What Greek could pass the screen Of Trojan posts in front of us, unseen? Thyself was stationed there, and all thy men. What man of yours was slain or wounded when Your Greek spies came? Not one; 'tis we, behind, Are wounded, and some worse than wounded, blind Forever to the sunlight. When we seek Our vengeance, we shall go not to the Greek. What stranger in that darkness could have trod Straight to where Rhesus lay--unless some God Pointed his path? They knew not, whispered not, Rhesus had ever come. . . . 'Tis all a plot.
HECTOR (_steadied and courteous again_).
Good allies I have had since first the Greek Set foot in Troy, and never heard them speak Complaint of Hector. Thou wilt be the first. I have not, by God's mercy, such a thirst For horses as to murder for their sake. [_He turns to his own men._ Odysseus! Yet again Odysseus! Take All the Greek armies, is there one but he Could have devised, or dared, this devilry? [vv. 862-876] I fear him; yea, fear in mine own despite, Lest Dolon may have crossed him in the night And perished; 'tis so long he cometh not.
THRACIAN.
I know not who Odysseus is, nor what. I know it was no Greek that wounded us.
HECTOR.
To think thus pleasures thee? Well, have it thus.
THRACIAN.
Home, home! To die at home and rest my head!
HECTOR.
Nay, die not, friend. We have enough of dead.
THRACIAN.
How can I live? Lost, and my master slain.
HECTOR.
My house will shelter thee and heal thy pain.
THRACIAN.
Thy house? Will murderers' nursing give me peace?
HECTOR.
Still the same tale! This man will never cease.
THRACIAN.
My curse rest--not on Hector, but on those Who stabbed us, as thou say'st.--Ah, Justice knows!
HECTOR. [vv. 877-891]
There, lift him.--Bear him to my house. Take pains, If care can do it, that the man complains No more of Troy.--Ye others, bear withal To Priam and the Elders of the Wall My charge, that, where the cart-road from the plain Branches, they make due burial for our slain.
[_One party of Guards lifts carefully the wounded_ THRACIAN _and goes off bearing him: another departs with the message to Troy_.
CHORUS.
Back from the heights of happiness, Back, back, to labour and distress Some god that is not ours doth lead Troy and her sons; He sows the seed, Who knows the reaping?
[_In the air at the back there appears a Vision of the_ MUSE _holding the body of her dead son_ RHESUS.
Ah! Ah! My king, what cometh? There appears Some Spirit, like a mist of tears; And in her arms a man lieth, So young, so wearied unto death; To see such vision presageth Wrath and great weeping.
[_The Guards hide their heads in their mantles._
MUSE.
Nay, look your fill, ye Trojans. It is I, The many-sistered Muse, of worship high In wise men's hearts, who come to mourn mine own [vv. 892-914] Most pitifully loved, most injured, son, For whose shed blood Odysseus yet shall pay Vengeance, who crawled and stabbed him where he lay.
With a dirge of the Thracian mountains, I mourn for thee, O my son. For a mother's weeping, for a galley's launching, for the way to Troy; A sad going, and watched by spirits of evil. His mother chid him to stay, but he rose and went. His father besought him to stay, but he went in anger. Ah, woe is me for thee, thou dear face, My beloved and my son!
LEADER.
Goddess, if tears for such as thee may run In our low eyes, I weep for thy dead son.
MUSE.
I say to thee: Curse Odysseus, And cursed be Diomede! For they made me childless, and forlorn for ever, of the flower of sons. Yea, curse Helen, who left the houses of Hellas. She knew her lover, she feared not the ships and sea. She called thee, called thee, to die for the sake of Paris, Beloved, and a thousand cities She made empty of good men. O conquered Thamyris, is this thy bane [vv. 915-941] Returned from death to pierce my heart again? Thy pride it was, and bitter challenge cast 'Gainst all the Muses, did my flesh abase To bearing of this Child, what time I passed Through the deep stream and looked on Strymon's face, And felt his great arms clasp me, when to old Pangaion and the earth of hoarded gold We Sisters came with lutes and psalteries, Provoked to meet in bitter strife of song That mountain wizard, and made dark the eyes Of Thamyris, who wrought sweet music wrong. I bore thee, Child; and then, in shame before My sisterhood, my dear virginity, I stood again upon thy Father's shore And cast thee to the deeps of him; and he Received and to no mortal nursing gave His child, but to the Maidens of the Wave. And well they nursed thee, and a king thou wast And first of Thrace in war; yea, far and near Through thine own hills thy bloody chariot passed, Thy battered helm flashed, and I had no fear; Only to Troy I charged thee not to go: I knew the fated end: but Hector's cry, Borne overseas by embassies of woe, Called thee to battle for thy friends and die.
And thou, Athena--nothing was the deed Odysseus wrought this night nor Diomede-- 'Tis thine, all thine; dream not thy cruel hand Is hid from me! Yet ever on thy land The Muse hath smiled; we gave it praise above All cities, yea, fulfilled it with our love. [vv. 942-963] The light of thy great Mysteries was shed By Orpheus, very cousin of this dead Whom thou hast slain; and thine high citizen Musaeus, wisest of the tribes of men, We and Apollo guided all his way: For which long love behold the gift ye pay! I wreathe him in my arms; I wail his wrong Alone, and ask no other mourner's song. [_She weeps over_ RHESUS.
LEADER.
Hector, thou hearest. We were guiltless here, And falsely spake that Thracian charioteer.
HECTOR.
Always I knew it. Had we any need Of seers to tell this was Odysseus' deed? For me, what could I else, when I beheld The hosts of Argos camped upon this field, What but with prayers and heralds bid my friend Come forth and fight for Ilion ere the end? He owed me that.--Yet, now my friend is slain, His sorrow is my sorrow. On this plain I will uplift a wondrous sepulchre, And burn about it gifts beyond compare Of robes and frankincense. To Troy's relief He came in love and parteth in great grief.
MUSE.
My son shall not be laid in any grave Of darkness; thus much guerdon will I crave Of Death's eternal bride, the heavenly-born [vv. 964-985] Maid of Demeter, Life of fruits and corn, To set this one soul free. She owes me yet, For Orpheus widowed, an abiding debt. To me he still must be--that know I well-- As one in death, who sees not. Where I dwell He must not come, nor see his mother's face. Alone for ever, in a caverned place Of silver-veined earth, hid from men's sight, A Man yet Spirit, he shall live in light: As under far Pangaion Orpheus lies, Priest of great light and worshipped of the wise. Howbeit an easier anguish even to me Falls than to Thetis in her azure sea; For her son too shall die; and sorrowing, First on the hills our band for thee shall sing, Then for Achilles by the weeping wave. Pallas could murder thee, but shall not save Thy foe; too swift Apollo's bolt shall fly. O fleshly loves of sad mortality, O bitter motherhood of these that die, She that hath wisdom will endure her doom, The days of emptiness, the fruitless womb; Not love, not bear love's children to the tomb.
[_The_ VISION _rises through the air and vanishes_.
LEADER.
The dead man sleepeth in his mother's care; But we who battle still--behold, the glare Of dawn that rises. Doth thy purpose hold, Hector, our arms are ready as of old.
HECTOR. [vv. 986-996]
March on; and bid the allies with all speed Be armed, bind fast the yoke upon the steed, Then wait with torches burning, till we sound The Tuscan trump.--This day we shall confound, God tells me, their Greek phalanx, break their high Rampart and fire the galleys where they lie. [_Pointing to the dawn._ Yon first red arrow of the Sun, that brings The dawn to Troy, hath freedom on his wings.
_During the following lines_ HECTOR _goes to his tent to get his shield, and as he enters sees_ DOLON's _bloody wolf-skin hanging. He takes it, looks at it, and throws it down without a word. Then he puts on his helmet, takes his shield and spear, and follows the Guards as they march off._
CHORUS.