Statius, Thebaid Book 1
Translated J. H. Mozley
Formatted by C. Chinn
	
	My spirit is touched by Pierian fire to recount the strife of brethren, 
	and the battle of the alternate reign fought out with impious hatred, 
	and all the guilty tale of Thebes. Whence, O goddesses, 
	do ye bid me begin? – Shall I sing the origins of the dreadful race, 
5	the Sidonian rape and the inexorable terms of Agenor’s law, 
	and Cadmus searching o’er the main?1 
	Far backward runs the story, should I tell of the anxious husbandman 
	of hidden war, sowing battles in the unhallowed soil, 
	and searching to the uttermost, relate with what song 
10	Amphion bade the Tyrian mountains move to form a city’s walls, 
	whence came Bacchus’ grievous wrath against his kindred towers; 
	what deed fierce Juno wrought; against whom unhappy Athamas 
	caught up his bow, and why with Palaemon in her arms 
	his mother quailed not to leap into the vast Ionian sea.2 
15	Nay rather here and now I will suffer the sorrows and the joys 
	of Cadmus to have gone by: let the troubled house of Oedipus 
	set a limit to3 my song, since not yet may I venture to utter the theme 
	of the standards of Italy and the triumphs of the North, 
	or Rhine twice brought beneath our yoke and Ister twice subject to our law 
20	and the Dacians hurled down from their conspiring mount, 
	or how in those days or scarce-approaching manhood Jove 
	was forfended to attack,4 and of thee, O glory added to the Latian name, 
	whom succeeding early to thy sire’s latest exploits Rome longs 
	to be her own for ever. Yea, though a closer bound confine the stars, 
25	and the shining quarter of the sky5 that knows nought 
	of Pleiads or Boreas or rending thunderbolt 
	tempt thee, though he who curbs the fiery-footed steeds 
	set with his own hand upon thy locks the exalted radiance 
	of his diadem, or Jupiter yield thee an equal portion 
30	of the great heaven, abide contented with the governance of men, 
	thou lord of earth and sea, and give constellations to the sky.6 
	A time will come when emboldened by Pierian frenzy 
	I shall recount thy deeds: now do I pitch my harp but to the singing 
	of Aonian7 arms and the sceptre fatal to both tyrants; 
35	of their madness unchecked by death and the strife of flames 
	in the dissension of the funeral pyre8; of kings’ bodies 
	lacking burial and cities drained by mutual slaughter, 
	when the dark-blue waters of Dirce blushed red with Lernaean gore, 
	and Thetis stood aghast at Ismenos, once wont to graze arid banks, 
40	flowing down with mighty heaps of slain. 
	Which hero first dost thou make my theme, O Clio? Tydeus, uncontrolled 
	in wrath? the sudden chasm that gaped for the laurel-crowned prophet? 
	Distraught Hippomedon, too, repelling his river-foe with corpses 
	demands my song, and I must lament the gallant Arcadian 
45	and his wars, and sing with a yet fiercer thrill the fate of Capaneus.
	
	Already had Oedipus with avenging hand probed deep 
	his sinning eyes and sunk his guilty shame in eternal night, 
	abiding in a long and living death. 
	But while he hugs his darkness and the uttermost seclusion of his dwelling, 
50	and keeps his secret chamber which the sun’s rays and heaven behold not, 
	and with unwearied wings the fierce daylight of the mind 
	hovers around him,9 and the Avenging Furies of his crimes assail his heart. 
	Then he displays to heaven those empty orbs, the cruel, pitiful punishment 
	of his life, and with blood-stained hands beats upon 
55	the hollow earth,10 and in dire accents utters this prayer: 
	
	“Gods who hold sway over guilty souls and over Tartarus crowded 
	with the damned, and thou O Styx, whom I behold, ghastly in 
	thy shadowy depths, and thou Tisiphone, so oft the object of my prayer, 
	be favourable now, and further my unnatural wish: 
60	if in aught I have found favour; if thou didst cherish me in thy bosom 
	when I fell from my mother’s womb, and didst heal the wounds of my 
	pierced feet; if I sought the lake of Cirrha where it winds between 
	the two summits of the range,11 when I could have lived contented 
	with the false Polybus, and in the Phocian strait where three ways meet 
65	grappled with the aged king and cleft the visage of the trembling 
	dotard, searching for my true sire; if by wit of the foreshowing 
	I solved the riddles of the cruel Sphinx; 
	if I knew exulting the sweet ecstasy and fatal union 
	of my mother’s bed, and passed many an unhallowed night, 
70	and begot sons for thee, as well thou knowest, 
	yet soon, greedy for punishment, did violence to myself 
	with tearing fingers and left my eyes upon my wretched mother– 
	hear me to the end, if my prayer be worthy and such as thou wouldest inspire 
	my raging heart withal. Sightless though I was and driven from 
75	my throne, my sons, on whatever couch begotten, attempted not 
	to give me guidance or consolation in my grief; nay, haughtily 
	(ah! the maddening sting!) an raised to royalty with me long dead, 
	they mock my blindness and abhor their father’s groans. 
	Do these too hold me accursed? and the father of gods beholds it, 
80	and does naught? Do thou at least, my due defender, 
	come hither, and begin a work of vengeance that will blast their seed for ever! 
	Set on thy head the gore-drenched circlet that my bloody nails 
	tore of, and inspired by their father’s curses go thou 
	between the brethren, and with the sword sunder the binding ties 
85	of kinship. Grant me, thou queen of Tartarus’ abyss, grant me 
	to see the evil that my soul desires, nor will the spirit of the youths be slow 
	to follow; come thou but worthy of thyself, thou shalt know them to be true sons of mine.”
	
	So prayed he, and the cruel goddess turned her grim visage 
	to hearken. By chance she sat beside dismal Cocytus, 
90	and had loosed the snakes from her head 
	and suffered them to lap the sulphurous waters. 
	Straightway, faster than fire of Jove or falling stars she leapt up 
	from the gloomy bank: the crowd of phantoms gives way 
	before her, fearing to meet their queen; then, journeying through 
95	the shadows and the fields dark with trooping ghosts, she hastens 
	to the gate of Taenarus,12 whose threshold none may cross and again return. 
	Day felt her presence, Night interposed her pitchy cloud 
	and startled his shining steeds; far off towering Atlas shuddered 
	and shifted the weight of heaven upon his trembling shoulders. 
100	Forthwith rising aloft from Malea’s vale she hies her 
	on the well-known way to Thebes: for on no errand is she swifter 
	to go and to return, not kindred Tartarus itself pleases her so well. 
	A hundred horned snakes erect shaded her face, 
	the thronging terror of her awful head13; deep within her sunken eyes 
105	there glows a light of iron hue, as when Atracian14 spells 
	make travailing Phoebe redden through the clouds; suffused with venom, 
	her skin distends and swells with corruption; a fiery vapour 
	issues from her evil mouth, bringing upon mankind thirst unquenchable 
	and sickness and famine and universal death. From her shoulders 
110	falls a stark and grisly robe, whose dark fastenings meet upon her breast: 
	Atropos and Proserpine herself fashion her this garb anew. 
	Then both her hands are shaken in wrath, the one gleaming 
	with a funeral torch, the other lashing the air with a live water-snake.
	
	She halted, where the sheer heights of vast Cithaeron 
115	rise to meet the sky, and sent forth from her green locks 
	fierce repeated hisses, a signal to the land, whereupon the whole shore 
	of the Achaean gulf and the realm of Pelops echoed far and wide. 
	Parnassus also in mid-heaven heard it, and turbulent 
	Eurotas; with the din Oete rocked and staggered, 
120	and Isthmos scarce withstood the waves on either side. 
	With her own hand his mother snatched Palaemon from 
	the curved back of his straying dolphin steed and pressed him to her bosom.15
	
	Then the Fury, swooping headlong upon the Cadmean towers, 
	straightway cast upon the house its wonted gloom: 
125	troubled dismay seized the brothers’ hearts 
	and the madness of their race inspired them, and envy 
	that repines at the others’ happiness, and hate-engendering fear; and then 
	fierce love of power, and breach of mutual covenant, and ambition 
	that brooks not second place, the dearer joy of sole supremacy, 
130	discord that attends on partnered rule. 
	Even so would a farmer fain unite under the plough-yoke 
	two picked bullocks of the savage herd, 
	but they indignant – for not yet has the frequent coulter 
	bowed those arching necks to the sinewy shoulders – 
135	pull contrariwise and with strength well-matched break harness 
	and confound the furrows with divers tracks: 
	not otherwise does furious discord enrage the proud brothers. 
	‘Twas agreed to change rule for exile by the ordinance 
	of the alternate year. By a grudging law they bade 
140	their fortunes change, so that a new claimant 
	should ever embitter the monarch’s fast-expiring term. 
	No other bond united the brethren, this was their sole stay 
	from arms, nor destined to endure to a second reign. 
	Yet then no ceilings glittered with thick plates of yellow gold, 
145	nor did quarried Grecian pillars bear aloft vast halls 
	that could freely spread the serried mass of clients; 
	no spears kept guard o’er a monarch’s troubled slumbers, 
	no sentinels groaned at the recurring duty of the watch; 
	they thought not to entrust precious stones to the wine-cup, 
150	nor to soil gold with food; ‘twas for naked power 
	the brethren armed, a starveling realm was their cause of battle. 
	And while they dispute which of the twain shall plough scant 
	Dirce’s squalid fields, or boast himself on the Tyrian exile’s lowly throne, 
	the laws of God and man are broken, righteousness perisheth, 
155	and honour both in life and death. Alas! unhappy ones! 
	what limits set ye to your wrath? what if it were the sky’s farthest bounds 
	ye dared so impiously, whereon the sun looks when he issues 
	from the eastern gate and when he sinks into his Iberian haven, 
	or the lands he touches afar with slanting devious ray, 
160	lands that the North wind freezes or the moist South warms 
	with fiery breath? nay, even though the wealth of Phrygia and Tyre 
	were gathered as the prize! A land of horror and a city God-accursed 
	sufficed to rouse your hatred, and hell’s madness was the price 
	of sitting in the seat of Oedipus!
	
			And now by the losing of the hazard 
165	Polynices saw his reign deferred. How proud a day for thee, fierce tyrant,16 
	when alone and unchallenged in thy palace thou didst look 
	and behold all power thine, all other men thy subjects, 
	and never a head but bowed beneath thy sway! Yet already murmurs are creeping 
	among the Echionian17 folk, the people is at silent variance with its prince, 
170	and, as is the wont of a crowd, ‘tis the claimant that they love. 
	And one among them, whose chief thought it was to hurt by mean 
	and venomous speech and never to bear the yoke of rulers 
	with submissive neck, said: “Is this the lot that the hard fates have appointed 
	for our Ogygian18 land, so often to change those whom we must fear, 
175	and to give uncertain allegiance to an alternate sway? 
	From hand to hand they toss the destinies of peoples 
	and of their own accord make Fortune fickle. Am I always to serve princes 
	that take their turn of exile? Is this thy will and purpose 
	for thy kindred realm, great Lord of heaven and earth? 
180	Does the ancient augury still have power for Thebes, 
	since Cadmus, bidden search in vain the Carpathian sea 
	for the winsome burden of the Sidonian bull, 
	found an exile’s kingdom in the Hyantean19 fields, 
	and in the gaping of the pregnant earth bequeathed the warfare of brethren 
185	as an omen to his posterity for ever? 
	See how the tyrant, rid of his colleague, rises erect 
	more fiercely threatening under cruel brows! 
	what terror in his look, how overbearing his pride! 
	will this man ever stoop to subject rank? But the other was gentle 
190	to our prayers, affable of speech, and more patient of the right. 
	What wonder? he was not alone. A worthless crowd indeed are we, 
	ready for every chance, at the bidding of every lord, whosoe’er he be! 
	As the sails yield to the cold north wind on this side 
	and to the cloudy east wind on that, and the vessel’s fate hangs wavering – 
195	alas! for the cruel, intolerable lot of peoples, racked by doubt and fear! – 
	so now one commands and the other threatens.”
	
	But now by Jove’s command the High Court and chosen council 
	of the gods had assembled in the spacious halls of the revolving sphere, 
	in heaven’s inmost depths. Equally removed from hence 
200	is the whole world’s extent, the abodes of east and west, and earth and sea 
	outspread beneath the infinite sky. Loftily through their midst moves 
	the King himself making all tremble, yet with countenance serene, 
	and takes his seat on the starry throne: nor dare they sit, 
	the heavenly ones, until the sire himself with tranquil hand 
205	permit them. Next a crowd of wandering demigods 
	and Rivers, of one kin with the high clouds, 
	and Winds, their clamours hushed by fear, 
	throng the golden halls. The arching vaults of heaven are all agleam 
	with majesty, the heights glow with a fuller radiance, 
210	and alight that is not of earth blooms upon the portals. 
	When quiet was commanded and heaven’s orb fell silent, 
	he began from his lofty throne – the sacred words have authority 
	and power immutable, and Destiny waits upon his voice: 
	
	“Of Earth’s transgressions I complain, and of Man’s mind 
215	that no Avenging Powers can satiate. Am I ever to be spent 
	in punishing the wicked? I am weary of venting my anger 
	with the flashing brand, long since are the busy arms of the Cyclopes 
	failing, and the fires droop that serve Aeolian anvils. 
	Yea, I had suffered the Sun’s steeds to run free 
220	of their false driver, and heaven to be burned with their straying wheels 
	and earth to be foul with the ashes that once were Phaethon. 
	Yet naught availed it, nor that thou, brother, didst with thy strong spear 
	send the sea flooding wide over the forbidden land. 
	Now am I descending in punishment on two houses, whereof I am 
225	myself progenitor. The one branches from the stem to Persean Argos, 
	the other flows from its source to Aonian Thebes. 
	In all the implanted character abides: who knows not 
	Cadmus’ bloodshed20 and the array of warring Furies 
	so oft summoned from the depths of hell, the mothers’ unhallowed joys 
230	and frenzies ranging of the forests, and the reproaches of gods that must be 
	veiled in silence?21 Scarce would the period of day or passing night 
	avail me to recount the impious doings of the race. 
	Nay, this unnatural heir has even ventured to climb his father’s couch 
	and defile the womb of his innocent mother, 
235	returning (oh! horror!) to his own life’s origin. 
	Yet he has made atonement everlasting to the gods above, 
	casting forth from himself the light of day, nor any more feeds upon 
	the air of heaven; but his sons (a deed unspeakable) trampled on 
	his eyes as they fell. Now, now are they prayers fulfilled, 
240	terrible old man! deserving art thou, yea, deserving in thy blindness 
	to hope for Jove as they avenger. New strife will I send upon 
	the guilty realm, and uproot the whole stock of 
	the deadly race. Let the gift of Adrastus’ daughter22 
	and her ill-omened nuptials furnish me the seeds of war. 
245	This race too I am resolved to scourge with punishment: 
	for never hath the deceit of Tantalus, nor the crime of 
	the pitiless banquet23 been forgotten in the secret counsels of my heart.”
	
	So spake the Almighty Sire. But wounded by his words 
	and nursing sudden wrath in a heart aflame Juno thus 
250	makes answer: 
			“’Tis I, then, justest of gods, I whom thou biddest 
	to engage in war? for thou knowest how I ever give aid of men 
	and might to the Cyclopean towers and the far-famed sceptre 
	of great Phoroneus, although there thou didst ruthlessly cast on sleep 
	and slay the guardian of the Pharian heifer, 
255	ay, and dost enter barred turrets in a shower of gold.24 
	Concealed armours I pardon thee: that city25 I hate 
	where thou goest undisguised, where thou soundest the thunders 
	that proclaim our high union, and wieldest the lightnings that are mine. 
	Let Thebes atone her crimes; why doest thou choose Argos as her foe? 
260	Nay, if such discord hath seized our holy marriage-chamber, 
	go, raze Sparta to the ground, bring war’s destruction upon Samos 
	and old Mycenae. Why anywhere26 is the altar of thy spouse 
	made warm by sacrificial blood or fragrant with heaps 
	of eastern incense? Sweeter is the smoke that rises from the votive shrines 
265	of Mareotic Coptos or from the wailing crowds and brazen gongs of river Nile. 
	But if ‘tis the evil deeds of former men that mankind now doth expiate, 
	and this resolve hath come so tardily to minister to thy wrath, 
	to cast back thy gaze through days of old, at what far stage of time 
	doth it suffice to drive away earth’s madness and purge 
270	the backward-reaching ages? Choose straightway that spot 
	for thy beginning where Alpheus following afar the track 
	of his Sicanian love glides by with sea-wandering wave. 
	Here on accursed ground the Arcadians set thee 
	a shrine – yet it shames thee not – here is Oenomaus’ chariot of war 
275	and the steeds more fitly stalled beneath Getic Haemus,27 
	nay even yet the severed heads and mangled corpses of the suitors 
	lie stark and unburied. Yet hast thou here the welcome honours 
	of a temple, yea, and guilty Ida28 pleases thee, and Crete 
	that tells falsely of thy death. Why dost thou grudge me then 
280	to abide in my Tantalean land? Turn hence the tumults of war, 
	and have compassion on thine own blood. Many a wide and wicked realm 
	hast thou, that can better suffer the crimes of offending sons.”
	
	Juno had finished her mingled entreaty and reproach. 
	But he made reply not in hard words, though cruel29 
285	was its purport: 
			“In truth I deemed not that thou wouldest bear 
	with favouring mind all that I might devise, albeit justly, 
	against thy Argos, nor does it escape me that, did occasion grant, 
	Bacchus and Dione, would dare to make long pleading 
	on Thebes’ behalf, but reverence for my authority forbids. 
290	For by those awful waters, my brother’s Stygian stream, 
	I swear – an oath abiding and irrevocable, - 
	that naught will make me waver from my word! Wherefore, my Cyllenian,30 
	in winged speed outstrip the winds that bear thee, 
	and gliding through the limpid air down to the dusky realms 
295	tell this message to thy uncle: Let old Laius betake himself to the world above, 
	Laius, whom his son’s blow bereft of life and whom by the law of Erebus 
	profound the further bank of Lethe hath not received; 
	let him bear my commands to his hateful grandson: 
	His brother, to whom exile has brought confidence and his Argive friendship 
300	boastful pride, let him in despite of kin keep far from his halls – 
	as already he doth well desire – and deny him the alternate honour of the crown. 
	So will angry deeds be begotten, and the rest will I lead on in order due.”
	
	Obedient to his father’s word the grandson of Atlas 
	straightway fastens on his ankles the winged sandals, 
305	and with wide hat veils his locks and tempers the brilliance of the stars. 
	Then he took in his right hand the wand wherewith he was wont to dispel 
	or call again sweet slumber, wherewith to enter the gates 
	of gloomy Tartarus or summon back dead souls to life. 
	Then down he leapt, and shuddered31 as the frail air received him; 
310	delaying not, he wings his speedy flight through the void on high, 
	and draws a mighty curve upon the clouds.
	
	Meanwhile the son of Oedipus, long time a wandering outlaw 
	from his father’s lands, traverses by stealth the waste places 
	of Aonia. Already he broods on the lost realm that was his due, 
315	and cries that the long year stands motionless in its tardy 
	constellations. One thought recurring night and day holds him, 
	could he ever but behold his kinsman degraded from the throne, 
	and himself master of Thebes and all its power; 
	a lifetime would be bargain for that day. 
320	Now he complains that his exile is but time consumed in idleness, 
	but soon the gust of princely pride swells high, and he fancies his brother 
	already cast down and himself seated proudly in his place; fretful hope 
	keeps his mind busy, and in far-reaching prayers he tastes all his heart’s desire. 
	Then he resolves to journey undismayed to the Inachian cities and Danaan lands 
325	and to Mycenae dark with the sun’s withdrawal,32 
	whether it were the Fury piloting his steps, 
	or the chance direction of the road, or the summoning of resistless 
	Fate. He leaves the Ogygian glades that resound with frenzied howlings, 
	and the hills that drink deep of Bacchic gore,33 
330	then passes the region where long Cithaeron settles gently 
	to the plain and stoops his weary height to the sea. 
	Thereafter with dizzy climb along a rocky path he puts behind him 
	Sciron’s infamous cliffs and Scylla’s country 
	where the purple monarch ruled,34 and kindly Corinth, 
335	and in the midmost plain hears two shores resound.
	
	But now through the wide domains which Phoebus, his day’s work ended, 
	had left bare, rose the Titanian queen, borne upward through a silent world, 
	and with her dewy chariot cooled and rarefied the air; 
	now birds and beasts are hushed, and Sleep steals o’er the greedy cares 
340	of men, and stoops and beckons from the sky, 
	shrouding a toilsome life once more in sweet oblivion. 
	Yet no reddening clouds gave promise 
	of the light’s return, nor as the shadows lessened 
	did the twilight gleam with long shafts of sun-reflecting radiance35; 
345	black night, blacker to earthward and shot by never a ray, 
	veiled all the pole. And now the rocky prisons 
	of Aeolia36 are smitten and groan, and the coming storm 
	threatens with hoarse bellowing: the winds loud clamouring 
	meet in conflicting currents, and fling loose heaven’s vault from its fastened hinges, 
350	while each strives for mastery of the sky; but Auster most violent 
	thickens gloom on gloom with whirling eddies of darkness, 
	and pours down rain which keen Boreas with his freezing breath 
	hardens into hail; quivering lightnings gleam, 
	and from the colliding air bursts sudden fire. 
355	Already Nemea and the high peaks of Arcadia 
	that border the forests of Taenarum are drenched; Inachus flows 
	in mighty spate, and Erasinus swelling high into icy billows. 
	Streams that before were dusty road-tracks now defy all stay 
	of confining bank, Lerna surges up from her deepest depths 
360	and foams with her ancient poison. 
	Shattered are all the forests, aged boughs are swept out 
	upon the storm, and the shady summer-haunts of Lycaeus, 
	unbeheld before by any suns, are now stripped bare to view. 
	
	Yet he, now marvelling at the rocks down-hurled from the cloven 
365	mountains, now listening in terror to the cloud-born torrents 
	dashing from the hills, and the raging flood whirling away home 
	of shepherd and stall of beast, slackens not his pace, though distraught 
	and uncertain of his way, but through the dark silences devours the lonely stretches 
	of his road; on every side fear and the thought of his brother assail his heart. 
370	And just as a sailor, caught in a tempest on the deep, 
	to whom neither lazy Wain nor Moon with friendly beam 
	show bearings, stands beggared of resource in mid-tumult 
	of sky and sea, and even now expects the treacherous reef 
	submereged beneath the wave, or waits to see foaming jagged rocks 
375	fling themselves at his prow and heave it high in air: 
	so the Cadmean hero threads the darkness of the forests 
	with hastening step, while with huge shield he braves the lairs 
	of fearsome beasts and forward-stooping thrusts through 
	the brushwood thickets; terror’s sombre influence adds spurs to his resolve, 
380	till from above the town of Inachus, conquering the gloom 
	with beam of light downpoured upon the shelving walls, 
	shone forth the Larissaean height. Thither sped by every hope he hies him 
	fast, with Juno’s temple of Prosymna37 high on his left hand, 
	and yonder the black marsh of Lerna’s water branded 
385	by Herculean fire,38 and at length the gates are opened 
	and he enters. Straightway he spies the royal portals; 
	there he flings down his limbs stiffened with rain and wind, 
	and leaning against the unknown palace doors 
	woos gentle slumber to his hard couch.
	
390	There king Adrastus, verging now toward old age 
	from life’s mid-course, ruled his folk in tranquil governance, 
	rich in the wealth of ancestry, and on either side tracing his line to Jove. 
	Issue lacked he of the stronger sex, but was prosperous 
	in female offspring: two daughters gave him pledge of love and service. 
395	To him had Phoebus at fate’s bidding told that sons-in-law drew nigh 
	– a deadly horror to tell! yet soon was the truth made manifest – 
	in the shapes of bristly swine and tawny lion. 
	Naught comprehends the sire therein for all his ponderings, 
	nor thou, wise Amphiaraus, for thy master Apollo forbids. 
400	Only the father’s heart sikens ever in deep-felt anxiety.
	
	But lo! Olenian39 Tydeus leaving ancient Calydon 
	by fate’s decree – the guilty terror of a brother’s blood 
	drives him forth – treads beneath night’s slumberous veil 
	the same wild ways, bewailing likewise wind and rain, 
405	and with ice-sheeted back, and face and hair streaming 
	with the storm, comes to the self-same shelter, whereof 
	the former stranger, stretched on the cold earth, had part. 
	Thereat so chanced it that both were seized with bloody rage, 
	and suffered not a shared roof to ward of the night; 
410	for a while they tarry with exchange of threatening words, 
	then when flung taunts had swelled their anger 
	to the pitch, each uprose, set free his shoulders, 
	and challenged to naked combat. 
	Taller the Theban, with long stride and towering limbs 
415	and in life’s prime, yet was Tydeus in strength and spirit 
	no whit the less, and though his frame was smaller 
	greater valour in every part held sway.40 
	Then closing fiercely they deal many a blow 
	on face and temple, like showers of darts or Rhipaean 
420	hail, and with bent knee belabour hollow loins. 
	Even as when the fifth year brings back his festival to the Pisaean Thunderer,41 
	and all is dust and heat and the crude sweat of men, 
	while yonder the rival favours of the crowd urge on the youthful striplings, 
	and the mothers, excluded from the scene, await the prizes of their sons: 
425	so these with but hate to spur them, and inflamed 
	by no lust of praise, fall on, and the sharp nails probe far 
	into their faces and force their way into the yielding eyes. 
	Perchance – so hot their anger – they had bared the swords 
	girt to their sides, and thou hadst lain, O Theban youth, the victim of a foeman’s arms– 
430	far better so – and earned a brother’s meed of tears, 
	had not the king, marvelling at the night’s unwonted show 
	of clamour and the fierce panting groans deep-heaved, 
	bent his steps thither: age and the burden of grave cares 
	held him now in broken fitful slumber. 
435	And when proceeding through the high halls 
	with attendant train of torches he beheld, the bars undone, 
	upon the fronting threshold a sight terrible to tell, faces torn 
	and cheeks disfigured with streaming blood: 
						“Whence this fury, 
	stranger youths?” he cried, “for no citizen of mine 
440	would dare such violence as this; whence this implacable desire 
	to let your hate disturb the tranquil silence of the night? 
	Has then day so little room, or is it grievous to suffer, even for a while, 
	sleep and peace of mind? But now come tell me, 
	whence are ye sprung, whither do ye fare, and what may be your quarrel? 
445	Mean of soul ye cannot be – such anger proves it – even through bloodshed 
	the noble signs of proud race show clear.”
	
	Scarce had he spoken, when with mingled clamour and sidelong glance 
	together they begin: 
			“Achaean prince! most gracious monarch! 
	what need of words? thou seest thyself this face all bloody” – 
450	their words are lost in the confused sound 
	of bitter accents. Then Tydeus taking first place of speech 
	thus recounts his tale: 
			“Desiring solace for my unhappy lot I left 
	the wealth of Calydon, nurse of monsters, and the Acheloian fields: 
	and lo! in your boundaries deepest night o’ertakes me. 
455	Who was he to forbid me shelter from the sky? 
	or was it because he won his way first 
	to this threshold? But twy-form Centaurs stall with each other, 
	so ‘tis said, and Cyclopes have peace together beneath Aetna; 
	nay even to wild monsters nature has given laws 
460	and their own rule of right; and for us to share a lodging on the ground –? 
	But why waste words? either thou, whoe’er thou art, 
	shalt to-day depart rejoicing in my spoils, or, if rising pain 
	dulls not my blood, thou shalt know me to be 
	of mighty Oeneus’ stock and no degenerate scion 
465	of my forefather Mars!” 
				“Nor lack I spirit or race” 
	returns the other, but conscious in his heart of ruthless fate 
	he hesitates to name his sire. Then kindly Adrastus: 
	“Nay come now, cease the threatening words which night 
	or sudden wrath or valour prompted, and pass beneath my palace-roof. 
470	Now let your right hands be joined to pledge your hearts. 
	These doings have not been vain nor without the sanction of the powers above: 
	perchance even these angry quarrels do but foreshadow a friendship to come, 
	so that ye may have pleasure in remembrance.” 
					Nor were the old man’s words 
	an empty presage, for they say that from their comradeship in wounds 
475	grew such loyalty as Theseus showed when he shared extremest peril 
	with wanton42 Pirithous, or Pylades when he rescued 
	distraught Orestes from the fury of Megaera.43 
	So then, yielding their savage hearts to the king’s 
	soothing words – even as waters that winds have made their battleground 
480	sink to rest, and yet on the drooping sails one surviving breath 
	is long in dying – even so submissive they entered the palace.
	
	Here first he has leisure to let his glance pass o’er the heroes’ dress 
	and mighty weapons. On Polynices’ back he spies 
	a lion flayed, all rought with uncombed mane, 
485	like to that one which in the Teumesian44 glades 
	Amphitryon’s son laid low in his boyish years 
	and clothed himself withal, before the battle with the monster of Cleonae.45 
	Tydeus’ broad shoulders the proud spoils of Calydon, 
	grim with bristles and curved fang, strive to enfold. 
490	Aghast and motionless stands the old king 
	at so dire an omen, calling to mind the divine oracles of Phoebus 
	and the warning uttered from the inspired cell. 
	His countenance is fixed in frozen silence, while through his limbs 
	ran a thrill of joy; he felt that they had come, led by heaven’s clear prompting, 
495	whom prophetic Apollo in riddling obscurities had foreshown to be 
	his destined sons-in-law, under the feigned guise of beasts. 
	Then stretching forth his hands to the stars, 
	“O Night,” he cries, “who castest thy mantle over toiling earth and heaven, 
	and sendest the fiery stars on their divers roaming courses, 
500	gracious referesher of the mind, till the next sun shed 
	blithe upspringing upon faint mortality, 
	thou, kindly Night, dost bring me of thy bounty assurance 
	long sought in perplexity and doubt, and dost reveal the ancient purposes 
	of fate: aid now my work, and certify the omens thou hast given. 
505	Ever shall this house throughout the circling periods of the year 
	hold thee high in honour and in worship; black bulls of chosen beauty 
	shall pay thee sacrifice, O goddess! And Vulcan’s fire shall eat 
	the lustral entrails, whereo’er the new milk streams. 
	Hail, ancient truth of mystic Tripod! hail, secret grotto! I have found, 
	O Fortune, that the gods are gods indeed!”
510					So saying, and joining arms 
	with both he goes forward to the inner chamber 
	of his dwelling. Even yet the fires slumbered on the grey ashes 
	of the altars, and the poured offerings of the sacrifice 
	were yet warm; he bids the flames again be roused 
515	and the late banquet renewed. His henchmen obey his words 
	in emulous haste: manifold tumult echoes throughout 
	the palace. Some array the couches with delicate purple 
	and rustling embroidery of gold and pile the cushions high, 
	some polish smooth and place in order the tables: 
520	others again set about to banish the darkness of gloomy night 
	by stretching chains for gilded lanterns; 
	these have the task of roasting on a spit’s point the bloodless flesh 
	of slain beasts, those of crushing grain on a stone and heaping the bread 
	in baskets; Adrastus rejoices to see his house aglow 
525	with obedient service. And now he himself, raised high 
	on the proud cushions an ivory throne, shone resplendent; 
	elsewhere the youths recline, their wounds healed 
	with cleansing water, and beholding each other’s scarred visages 
	bear mutual forgiveness. Then the aged king bids Acaste be summoned – 
530	his daughters’ nurse and trusty guardian, chosen to keep ward 
	on maiden modesty consecrated to lawful wedlock – 
	and murmurs in her silent ear.
	
	She stayed not upon his bidding, but straightway both maidens 
	came forth from their secret bower, in countenance, marvellous to tell, 
535	like to quiver-bearing Diana and warrior Pallas, 
	yet without their terror. They spy the new faces of the heroes 
	and are shamed; pallor at once and blushes made havoc 
	of their bright cheeks, and their timorous eyes 
	resought their reverend sire.46 When in the banquet’s course 
540	hunger was quelled, the son of Iasus,47 as his custom was, 
	bade his thralls bring a goblet fair-wrought with figures and shining with gold, 
	wherefrom both Danaus and elder Phoroneus were wont to pour libations 
	to the gods. Thereon was embossed work of images: 
	all golden, a winged youth holds the snake-tressed Gorgon’s 
545	severed head, and even upon the moment – so it seems – 
	leaps up into the wandering breeze; she almost moves her heavy eyes 
	and drooping head, and even grows pale in the living gold.48 
	Here the Phrygian hunter49 is borne aloft on tawny wings, 
	Gargara’s range sinks downwards as he rises and Troy grows dim beneath him; 
550	sadly stand his comrades, in vain the hounds weary their throats 
	with barking and pursue his shadow or bay at the clouds. 
	From this he pours the streaming wine and in order due calls on all 
	the denizens of heaven, Phoebus before the rest; Phoebus’ presence 
	all invoke with praise, garlanded with reverent myrtle, 
555	friend and thrall alike, about his altar; for in his honour they make holiday, 
	and the altars, refreshed by lavish incense, glow through wreaths of smoke.
	
	“Perchance ye may inquire, O youths,” thus says the monarch, 
	“what means this sacrifice, and for what reason we pay Phoebus 
	signal honour. Urged by no ignorant fear, but under stress 
560	of dire calamity, the Argive folk aforetime made 
	this offering. Lend me your hearing, and I will recount the tale. 
	When that the god had smitten the dark and sinuous-coiling monster, 
	the earth-born Pytho, who cast about Delphi his sevenfold grisly circles 
	and with his scales ground the ancient oaks to powder, 
565	even while sprawling by Castalia’s fountain he gaped 
	with three-tongued mouth athirst to feed his deadly venom: 
	when having spent his shafts on numberless wounds he left him, 
	scarce fully stretched in death over a hundred acres 
	of Cirrhaean50 soil, then, seeking fresh expiation of the dead, 
570	he came to the humble dwelling of our king Crotopus. 
	A daughter, in the first years of tender maidenhood, 
	and wondrous fair, kept this pious home, 
	a virgin chaste. How happy, had she ne’er kept secret tryst 
	with the Delian, or shared a stolen love with Phoebus! 
575	For she suffered the violence of the god by Nemea’s stream, 
	and when Cynthia had twice five times gathered her circle’s visage 
	to the full, she brought forth a child, Latona’s grandson, bright as a star. 
	Then fearing punishment – for her sire would ne’er have pardoned 
	a forced wedlock – she chose the pathless wilds, 
580	and stealthily among the sheep-pens gave her child 
	to a mountain-wandering guardian of the flock for nurture. 
	No cradle worthy of a birth so noble, hapless infant, did thy grassy bed 
	afford thee, or thy woven home of oaken twigs; 
	enclosed in the fibre of arbutus-bark thy limbs 
585	are warm, and a hollow pipe coaxes thee to gentle slumbers, 
	while the flock shares thy sleeping-ground. But not even such a home 
	did the fates permit, for, as he lay careless 
	and drinking in the day with open mouth, 
	fierce ravening dogs mangled the babe and took their fill 
590	with bloody jaws. But when the tidings reached the mother’s 
	horror-struck ears, father and shame and fear were all forgot; 
	herself straightway she fills the house with wild lamentation, 
	all distraught, and baring her breast meets her father 
	with her tale of grief. Nor is he moved, but bids her – 
595	Oh horrible! even as she desires, suffer grim death.
	Too late remembering thy union, O Phoebus, thou dost devise 
	a solace for her miserable fate, a monster conceived beneath 
	lowest Acheron in the Furies’ unhallowed lair: a maiden’s face 
	and bosom has she, from her head 
600	an ever-hissing snake rises erect, parting in twain her livid brow. 
	Then that foul pest, gliding at night with unseen movement 
	into the chambers, tore from the breasts that suckled them 
	lives newly-born, and with blood-stained fangs 
	gorged and fattened on the country’s grief. 
605	But Coroebus, foremost in prowess of arms and high courage, 
	brooked it not, and with chosen youths, unsurpassed in valour 
	and ready at life’s hazard to enlarge their fame, went forth, 
	a willing champion. From dwellings newly ravaged she was going, 
	where in the gateway two roads meet, the corpses of two little ones 
610	hung at her side, and still her hooked talons claw their vitals 
	and the iron nails are warm in their young hearts. 
	Thronged by his band of heroes the youth rushed to the attack, 
	and buried his broad blade in her cruel breast, 
	and with flashing steel probing deep the spirit’s 
615	lurking-place at length restored to nether Jove 
	his monstrous offspring. What joy to go and see at close hand 
	those eyes livid in death, the ghastly issue of her womb, 
	and her breasts clotted with foul corruption, whereby our young lives 
	perished! Appalled stand the Inachian youth, 
620	and their gladness, though great now sorrow is ended, even yet is dim and pale. 
	With sharp stakes they mangle the dead limbs – vain solace 
	for their grief – and beat out the jagged grinding teeth 
	from her jaws: they can – yet cannot glut their ire. 
	Her did ye flee unfed, ye birds, wheeling round 
625	with nocturnal clamour, and ravening dogs, they say, 
	and wolves in terror upon her, dry-mouthed.
	But against the unhappy youths the Delian rises up 
	fierce at the doom of his slain avengeress, and seated on the shady top 
	of twin-peaked Parnassus with relentless bow he cruelly scatters shafts 
630	that bring pestilence, and withers beneath a misty shroud 
	the fields and dwellings of the Cyclopes.51 
	Pleasant lives droop and fail, Death with his sword 
	cuts through the Sisters’ threads, and hurries the stricken city to the shades. 
	Our leader then inquiring what the cause may be, what is this baleful fire 
635	from heaven, why Sirius reigns throughout the whole year, 
	the word of the same god Paean brings command, 
	to sacrifice to the blood-stained monster those youths that caused her death. 
	O valour heaven-blest! O worth that will merit a long age 
	of fame! No base craven thou to hide 
640	thy devoted deed, or shun in fear a certain death! 
	Unabashed he stood on the threshold of Cirrha’s temple, 
	and with these words gives fierce utterance to his sacred rage: 
	
	‘Not sent by any, nor suppliant, O Thymbraean,52 do I approach 
	thy shrine: duly and consciousness of right have turned my steps 
645	this way. I am he, O Phoebus, who laid low thy deadly scourge, 
	I am he whom thou, ruthless one, dost seek out by poison-cloud, 
	and the light of day defiled, and the black corruption 
	of a baleful heaven. But even if raging monsters be so dear 
	to the gods above, and the destruction of men a cheaper loss 
650	to the world, and heaven be so stern and pitiless, 
	in what have the Argives sinned? My life, my life alone, most righteous 
	of the gods, should be offered to the fates! Or is it more soothing 
	to thy heart that thou seest homesteads desolate, 
	and the countryside lit up by the burning roofs of husbandmen? 
655	But why by speaking do I delay the weapons of thy might? 
	our mothers are waiting, and the last prayers for me are being 
	uttered. Enough: I have deserved that thou should’st be merciless. 
	Bring then thy quiver, and stretch thy sounding bow, 
	and send a noble soul to death! but, even while I die, 
660	dispel the gathered mist that form on high hangs pallid 
	over Inachian Argos.’
	
			“Equity hath regard 
	for the deserving. Awe of slaughter took hold on 
	Leto’s fiery son, and yielding he grants the hero 
	the sad boon of life; the deadly clouds fly scattering 
665	from our heaven, while thou, thy prayer heard, departest 
	from marvelling Phoebus’ door. Thenceforward do we in solemn banquet 
	yearly renew the appointed sacrifice, and placate the shrine 
	of Phoebus in recurring festival. 
				Of what stock come ye, whom chance 
	has led to these our altars? though, if but now my ears 
670	did rightly catch your outcry, Oeneus of Calydon is thy sire, and thine the lordship 
	of Parthaonia’s house.53 But thou, do thou reveal who thou art that comest thus 
	to Argos, since now the hour permits of varied discourse.”
	
	Straightway did the Ismenian54 hero bend his sad looks 
	to earth, and cast an injured Tydeus a silent sidelong 
675	glance; then after a long pause he spoke: 
	“Not at these honours paid to heaven is it meet 
	to ask me of my birth or land or ancient descent of blood; 
	hard is it to confess the truth amid the holy rites. 
	But if your wish is urgent to know my unhappy tale, 
680	Cadmus was the ancestor of my sires, my land Mavortian Thebes, 
	my mother is Jocasta.”
			Then Adrastus moved to friendly compassion – 
	for he recognized him – said: “Why hide what all have heard? 
	this know we, nor doth Fame journey so distant from Mycenae. 
	Yea, of that reign, and the madness, and the eyes that knew shame 
685	of their seeing, even he hath heard who shivers ‘neath an Arctic sun, 
	and he who drinks of Ganges, or sails in to the Ocean 
	darkening to the west, and they whom the shifting shoreline of the Syrtes 
	fails. Cease to lament, or to recount the woes 
	of thy fathers: in our house also hath there been 
690	many a fall from duty, but past error binds not posterity. 
	Only do thou, unlike to them, win by fortune’s favour this reward, 
	to redeem thy kindred. And now the frosty wagoner 
	of the Hyperborean Bear55 droops languidly, with backward slanting pole. 
	Pour your wine upon the altar-hearths, and chant we our prayer, 
695	again and yet again, to Leto’s son, the saviour of our fathers!
	
	“Phoebus, Sire! whether the copses of Patara and Lycia’s 
	snowy uplands keep thee busy,56 or thou delightest 
	to bathe thy golden hair in Castalia’s pure drew, 
	or whether as Thymbra’s lord thou dwellest in Troy, where they say 
700	thou didst willingly bear on thankless shoulders blocks of Phrygian stone,57 
	or whether Latonian Cynthus58 pleases thee, casting his shadow 
	on the Aegean wave, and Delos, settled sure in the deep, nor needing now thy search, - 
	thine are the arrows and the bending of bows against the savage enemy 
	afar; to thee did celestial parents grant the cheeks’ 
705	eternal bloom; thou art skilled to foreknow Fate’s 
	cruel handiwork, and the destiny that lies beyond, 
	and high Jove’s pleasure, to what peoples pestilence cometh or wars, 
	what change of sceptres comets brings; 
	thou makest the Phrygian59 subject to thy lyre, and for thy mother’s honour 
710	dost stretch the earth-born Tityos on the Stygian sands; 
	thee the green Python and the Theban mother60 horror-struck beheld triumphant 
	with thy quiver, to avenge thee grim Megaera 
	holds fast the starving Phlegyas,61 who lies 
	ever pressed beneath cavernous rocks, and tortures him with 
715	the unholy feast, but mingled loathing defeats his hunger: 
	be thou present to our succour, mindful of our hospitality, and shed on 
	the fields of Juno62 the blessings of thy love, whether ‘tis right to call thee rosy Titan, 
	in the fashion of the Achaemenian race,63 or Osiris 
	bringer of the harvest, or Mithras, that beneath the rocky Persean cave 
720	strains at the reluctant-following horns.”