Statius, Thebaid Book 7
Translated by J. H. Mozley
Formatted by C. Chinn

	As thus they tarried at the outset of the Tyrian war, 
	Jupiter turned on the Pelasgians his wrathful gaze 
	and shook his head, at the movement of which the high stars 
	tremble and Atlas cries that his shoulders’ burden is increased. 
5	Then thus did he address the speedy Tegean: 
	“Go, boy, and swiftly leaping glide through the North 
	as far as the Bistonian dwellings and the snowy constellations 
	of the pole, where the Parrhasian1 feeds her Ocean-barred 
	fires on storm-clouds and Heaven’s own rain. 
10	And there, whether Mars has laid aside his spear and draws breath again – 
	though repose be hateful to him – or whether, as I think, he has his arms 
	and his trumpets, whereof he never tires, and is wantoning in the blood 
	of his beloved tribe,2 haste thou to deliver the angry message of his sire, 
	and spare nought. Surely long since was he bidden to inflame 
15	the Inachian host, and all that the rock of Isthmus holds apart 
	and the thunderous wrath of echoing Malea encompasses; 
	yet scarce hath their army passed the boundary of their walls 
	and they hold sacred festival; one would deem they had returned from war, 
	so keen is their applause, as they attend the rites of an offended tomb. 
20	Is this thy rage, Gradivus? The round quoit crashes and 
	reverberates, and the Oebalian3 gloves meet in the boxing-match. 
	But if he really hath that boasted fury and mad joy in battle, 
	then ruthlessly will he lay innocent towns in ashes, 
	wielding sword and fire, and strike the peoples to the ground 
25	while they implore the Thunderer, and exhaust the miserable world. 
	Now he is lenient in warfare and he grows slack though I am angry: 
	but if he hastens not the fight and hurls not, more swiftly than the word 
	of my command, the Danaan ranks against the Tyrian walls – 
	with nought cruel do I threaten him – let his power be all for kindliness 
30	and goodness, and his ungoverned rage be slackened to quietness and peace, 
	let him return me his horses and his sword, nor have right of bloodshed 
	any more: I will look upon the earth and bid all cease 
	from strife; for the Ogygian4 war Tritonia will suffice.”
	
	He had spoken, and the Cyllenian was drawing nigh the fields of Thrace; 
35	down-gliding from the gate of the Northern pole5 he is driven 
	this way and that by the region’s everlasting tempest and the serried 
	storm-clouds ranged athwart the sky and the first blasts 
	of Aquilo: the pouring hail rattles upon his golden robe 
	and ill does the shady hat6 of Arcady protect him. 
40	Here he observes barren forests, the sacred haunts of Mars – 
	and he shudders as he looks – where on the far slopes of Haemus 
	his savage mansion is ringed by a thousand furies. 
	The walls are of iron structure, iron portals bear upon 
	the threshold, the roof is carried by columns wrought of iron. 
45	The rays of Phoebus are weakened when they meet it, the very light 
	fears that dwelling, and its murky glare dismays the stars. 
	Fit sentinels hold watch there: from the outer gate wild 
	Passion leaps, and blind Mischief and Angers flushed red 
	and pallid Fear, and Treachery lurks with hidden 
50	sword, and Discord holding a two-edged blade. 
	Threatenings innumerable make clamour in the court, sullen Valour 
	stands in the midst, and Rage exultant and armed Death with 
	blood-stained visage are seated there; no blood but that of wars 
	is on the altars, no fire but snatched from burning cities. 
55	All around were spoils of every land, and captured peoples 
	adorned the temple’s high front,7 and fragments of iron-wrought 
	gates and ships of war and empty chariots 
	and faces ground by chariot-wheels, ay, almost 
	even their groans! truly every form of violence and 
60	wounds. Himself was everywhere to behold, but nowhere with 
	softened looks; in such wise had Mulciber with divine skill portrayed 
	him: not yet had the adulterer, made manifest by the sun’s 
	bright beams, atoned his shameful union in the bed’s grasping chains.8
	
	Scarce had the winged Maenalian begun to seek the temple’s 
65	lord – lo! earth trembles, and horned Hebrus bellows and stays 
	his torrent’s flow; then all the war-steeds that troubled 
	the valley sped foaming o’er the frightened meads, 
	sure sign of his approach, and the gates barred with everlasting 
	adamant flew open. Glorious in Hyrcanian gore he himself 
70	comes riding by; far and wide the dire bespattering changes the 
	aspect of the fields, behind him are borne spoils and weeping throngs; 
	forest and deep snows give him room; with bloody hand 
	dark Bellona guides the team and plies them hard with her long 
	spear. The offspring of Cyllene grew stiff with terror at the sight, 
75	and cast down his eyes: ay, even the Father himself would feel awe, 
	were he present, and would forgo his threats nor command so sternly. 
	First spake the Lord of War: “What decree of Jove, what message bringest 
	thou from the vast heaven? For not of thine own will comest thou, 
	O brother, to this clime and to my wintry storms, thou whose home 
80	is dewy Maenalus and the kindlier air of warm Lycaeus.” 
	He reports his sire’s resolve. Nor does Mars long delay, 
	but drives forward his flying steeds, all panting as they were 
	and sweating together ‘neath the yoke, himself indignant that the Greeks 
	were sluggish to begin the war. The Father on high beheld, 
85	and abating now his anger let his head sink with slow weight: 
	as when the East wind sinks to rest and leaves the waters 
	it has vanquished, yet even in calm the waters swell and the departed storm 
	yet rolls the surface of the deep; not yet have the vessels all their 
	tackling set, nor do the mariners draw a full breath again.
	
90	The funeral rites had brought an end to the unarmed combats, 
	but the crowds were not gone away, when amid universal silence 
	the hero Adrastus poured wine upon the ground and propitiated the ashes 
	of Archemorus: “Grant, little one, that this day may be renewed at many 
	a triennial feast; let not maimed Pelops prefer to seek 
95	Arcadian altars or knock at Elean temples with his 
	ivory arm, nor the serpent rather glide to the Castalian shrine, 
	nor its own shade of the pine-groves of Lechaeum.9 
	We refuse thee, O child, to sad Avernus, and link these 
	mournful rites with the undying stars, we who hurry now 
100	to arms. But if thou wilt grant us to overthrow the Boeotian 
	dwellings with the sword, then a mighty temple shall exalt thee, 
	then shalt thou be a god indeed, nor through Inachian cities only shall 
	thy worship spread, but Thebes also in her captivity shall swear by thy name.” 
	So vowed the chief for all, so vowed each warrior for himself.
	
105	Already Gradivus with forward-straining steeds was trampling the 
	Ephyrean shores, where Acrocorinthus raises his summit into 
	the airy heights and casts his shadow over the twin seas in turn. 
	Then he orders Panic, one of his fearful train, to go before 
	the horses: none more skilled than he to insinuate 
110	gasping terror and to steal courage from the heart; 
	voices and hands innumerable has the monster, 
	and aspects to assume at will; all-persuasive is he, 
	and his onslaughts drive cities mad with horror. 
	If he suggests that there are two suns, or that the stars are falling, 
115	or the ground heaving, or ancient forests marching down from the hills,10 
	alas! the wretches believe that they have seen it. A new and cunning trick 
	was he then devising: he raises a phantom dust upon the plain 
	of Nemea; astounded the chiefs behold above their heads the 
	darkening cloud; he swells the tumult with unsubstantial clamour 
120	and imitates the clank of armour and the tread of horses’ hooves, 
	and scatters the terrible war-cry upon the wandering breezes. 
	Their hearts leap in fear, and the crowd wait muttering in suspense: 
	“Whence comes the noise? – unless our ears betray us. But why stand 
	the heaven in a cloud of dust? surely the Ismenian soldiery have not 
125	dared so far? Ay, ‘tis even so; they come! But is Thebes then so bold? 
	Must they wait, think you, for us to pay rites to sepulchres?”
	
	Thus Panic in their bewildered minds: and many a different countenance 
	does he assume amid their ranks, now is he one of a thousand men of Pisa, 
	now a Pylian, now a Laconian by his look, and he swears 
130	the foe are near, and dismays the host with vain alarm. 
	To their terror nought is false. But when undisguised he fell upon 
	the distracted warriors, and, borne on a swift whirlwind around 
	the heights of the sacred vale, thrice brandished his spear, 
	thrice smote his steeds, thrice clashed his shield upon his breast, 
135	“to arms, to arms,” they cry, each snatching in wild disorder 
	his neighbour’s or his own, and they seize other helms and force strange 
	steeds beneath the yoke; in ever heart burns the mad lust 
	of death and slaughter, nothing hinders their fiery rage; 
	in furious haste they atone for their delays. Such a clamour fills 
140	the shore when the wind is rising, and men are leaving the port; 
	everywhere sails are bellying and loose ropes flapping, 
	and now the oars are afloat and every anchor too upon the surface, 
	and now from mid-sea they are gazing back at the land 
	they love and at the friends left far astern.
	
145	Bacchus had seen the Inachian cohorts gather swiftly 
	for the march; with a groan he turned towards the Tyrian city, 
	and he recalls the home that nurtured him and his father’s fires,11 
	with sadness in his heart and dismay upon his bright countenance; 
	disordered were his locks and garlands, the thyrsus was fallen 
150	from his hand the untouched grapes from off his horns; 
	tearful then and unsightly as he was with dishevelled robe, he stood 
	before Jupiter – reigning then by chance alone in heaven – 
	in such guise as had never before been seen – 
	yet his sire knew well the cause – and spake in supplication: 
155	“Destroyest thou thine own Thebes, O worthy father of the gods? 
	is thy spouse so cruel? pitiest thou not that well-loved land, 
	that hearth thou didst deceive, those ashes I hold dear? 
	Be it so, once thou didst hurl unwilling fire from the clouds – 
	so I believe – but lo! a second time art thou bringing deadly fire upon 
160	the land, without oath of Styx or cunning paramour’s request. 
	What limit wilt thou set? Art thou my father, and incensed against me? 
	Kindly, and yet dost wield the thunderbolt? Not in such mood wouldst thou go 
	to Danaë’s city, or the Parrhasian grove,12 or Amyclae, Leda’s home. 
	Am I then in truth the worst-scorned of all thy sons? 
165	Yet am I surely he, who was a sweet burden for 
	thy carrying, for whom thou deignedst to open once more life’s threshold 
	and the way once closed against me, and the period of the womb.13 
	Moreover, my people are unwarlike, and rarely schooled in camps, 
	and know my warfare only, my battles, the twining of 
170	garlands in their hair and twirling to the frenzied pipe; 
	they fear the wands that brides wield, the wars that matrons wage.14 
	How should they endure the bray of trumpets and the work of Mars, who makes – 
	behold him! – such furious preparation? What if he were to lead thy own Curetes 
	to the fight, and bid them15 decide the issue with their guileless targes? 
175	Nay more, ‘tis hated16 Argos thou choosest – was there 
	no other foe? Ah! cruel, O father, is our peril, but more cruel thy 
	command! We pay the penalty, to make rich17 my stepmother’s Mycenae. 
	I yield! But my ruined people’s sacred rites, and aught that 
	my mother left when she brought forth but for the tomb – 
180	whither must we depart? to Thrace and the forests of Lycurgus? 
	or shall I flee a captive to that India where I once did triumph? 
	Grant the outlaw some resting-place! My brother could make 
	Delos fast, Lato’s rocky home – nor do I grudge him that – and entrust it 
	to the lowest depths18; the Tritonian removed the hostile waters 
185	from her beloved citadel; myself I have seen 
	Epaphus lording it over Eastern races, and remote 
	Cyllene and Minoan Ida fear not the trumpet’s 
	blast19; why do our altars so offend thee? 
	Here – since my own influence must already yield – here were those nights 
190	of Hercules’ begetting, and the favoured flame of wandering Nycteis,20 
	here was the race of Tyre and the bull more fruitful than my 
	lightning-brand: protect at least Agenor’s offspring!”
	
	Smiling at his jealousy his father raised him quietly 
	to his embrace from where he knelt with arms outstretched, 
195	and in turn makes tranquil answer: “This comes not by 
	my consort’s will, as thou thinkest, my son, nor am I thus a slave 
	to her fierce demands; ‘tis fate’s unchanging wheel that ordains 
	our destiny21; ancient causes are leading, now late in time, to war. 
	Whose anger sinks so soon to rest, who is more sparing 
200	of human blood? The heavens and my eternal age-long 
	dwelling witness how often I lay by the whirling22 thunderbolt, 
	how rarely these fires have mastery of the earth. 
	Unwillingly indeed, though they had suffered great wrongs that cried 
	for vengeance, did I deliver the Lapithae to Mars or ancient Calydon 
205	to Diana for destruction; sad is the loss, and ‘tis irksome 
	to give so many new lives for old, and animate afresh so many bodies. 
	But for the seed of Labdacus and the sons of Pelops’ line, 
	them am I slow to destroy; thou knowest thyself – to leave unsaid 
	the Dorian crimes – how ready is Thebes to accuse the gods; 
210	thee too – but my former anger is appeased and I will hold my peace. 
	Pentheus23 was stained by no father’s blood 
	nor bore the guilt of defiling his mother’s bed and begetting 
	brothers, yet he filled thy haunts with the mangled fragments 
	of his limbs: where then were these tears, this eloquent appeal? 
215	But it is to glut no private wrath that I sacrifice 
	the sons of Oedipus: earth and heaven demand it, 
	and natural piety and injured faith, and the laws of the 
	Avenging Powers themselves. But be not distressed for 
	thy city; not at this time have I decreed that the Aonian state 
220	shall fall, a darker age shall come hereafter, 
	and others to avenge24; now royal Juno shall complain.”
	
	He hearing this was composed in mind and aspect; 
	as when rose-gardens droop ‘neath a fiery scorching sun 
	and cruel South wind, should the day clear and Western breezes 
225	refresh the sky, all their beauty returns, the blooms open resplendent, 
	and the unsightly branches are decked in their proper glory.
	
	Long since has the messenger brought sure tidings of discovery 
	to the astounded ears of Eteocles, announcing that the Grecian chiefs are 
	on the march at the head of a long array, and soon will be nigh 
230	the Aonian fields; wheresoever they advance, all tremble and pity 
	Thebes; he reports the family and fame of each and their warlike deeds. 
	The king hiding his fear demands to be told and hates the 
	teller; then he decides to send a stirring message to his allies 
	and to take the measure of his own resources. Mars – 
235	so it pleased Jove – had stirred up Aonia and Euboea and the 
	neighbouring lands of Phocis; far flies the rapid signal from 
	town to town; they march forth their hosts and display themselves 
	in arms; they move upon the plain that, doomed to war, 
	spreads near the city and awaits the fury of the fray. 
240	They meet no foe as yet, but matrons in an excited throng 
	ascend the walls, and thence show to their children 
	the glittering armour and their sires’ formidable arms.
	
	Far removed upon a lonely tower and still withheld from 
	the eyes of the people, Antigone shrouds in a black veil her 
245	tender cheeks; with her was an attendant, Laius’ 
	squire of old, whom the royal maid reveres. She first 
	addressed him: “Is there hope, O father, that these standards 
	will hold the Pelasgians in check? We hear that all the tribes of 
	Pelops descend upon us; recount, I pray, the princes and their foreign 
250	bands, for I see what standards our own Menoeceus, and what troops 
	our Creon hath under command, and how Haemon with towering crest 
	of brazen Sphinx marches out from the mighty Homoloian gates.” 
	So spake artless Antigone, and old Phorbas thus replied: 
	“Dryas, look! leads forth a thousand archers from 
255	cold Tanagra’s hill: he whose snow-white armour bears a trident 
	and a fire-brand rudely wrought in gold, is for valour the true son 
	of exalted Orion: heaven forged the ill omen 
	of his sire, and chaste Diana’s ancient grudge!25 
	Ocalea and Medeon join our camps and declare for our 
260	monarch’s cause, and thickly-wooded Nisa 
	and Thisbe echoing with Dione’s tuneful birds.26 
	Next is Eurymedon who counterfeits the pastoral arms 
	and horsehair crest of his father Faunus with club and leaves of pine; 
	terrible is he in the woodland, and such, I ween, will he be in the 
265	bloody conflict. Erythrae rich in flocks is with us, and so are they 
	who hold Scolos, and Eteonos set thick with arduous ridges, 
	and the brief strand of Hyle, and the proud folk of Schoenos, 
	Atalanta’s home, who till the famous plain her feet imprinted: 
	they brandish as of wont the long ashen Macedonian shafts, 
270	and targes that scarce can ward off savage blows. 
	But lo! the Neptunian folk of Onechestus rush on with 
	shouts: they whom Mycalessos nourishes beneath her pines, 
	and Melas, Pallas’ stream, and Gargaphie with the waters loved 
	of Hecate, and they on whose young wheat Haliartos looks jealously, 
275	o’ergrowing the glad cornlands with too abundant grass. 
	Unfashioned tree-trunks are their weapons, and lions’ empty jaws their helms, 
	the curving bark affords them bucklers. These, as they lack a king, 
	our own Amphion, look! is leading – ‘tis easy to recognize him, 
	O maid – conspicuous with a lyre and our ancestral bull upon his helm. 
280	A blessing on thy courage, youth! he is ready to go where 
	swords are thickest, and protect with naked breast the walls he loves. 
	Ye too come to add your strength to ours, ye Heliconian 
	throng, and thou, Permessus, and Olmius, happy 
	in your tuneful streams, ye have armed your unwarlike 
285	sons. Now heartest thou thy people exult in strains worthy 
	of their home, such strains as, when pale winter yields, 
	the swans uplift in praise of smiling Strymon.27 
	Onward, valiant ones! your praise shall never die, 
	and Muses in songs unending shall recount your wars.”
	
290	He had finished, when the maiden briefly spake in turn: 
	“But those yonder, what tie of birth unites those brethren? 
	So truly alike are their arms, so rise their helmet-peaks 
	into the air together; would that my brothers had such concord!” 
	Smiling the old man answered her: “Thou are not the first, 
295	Antigone, to be so deluded in thy seeing; many have called them brethren, 
	for their years deceive. Father and son they are, though the fashions 
	of age are all confounded: the nymph Dercetis in burning passion 
	and shameless lust of wedlock corrupted ere his time the boy 
	Lapithaon, still innocent of the marriage bed and unripe 
300	for a lover’s flames; and soon was born the fair Alatreus, 
	and overtakes his father while still in the flower of youth, 
	and assumes his features and confounds their years. 
	So now they rejoice in the false name of brethren, but more the father; 
	for the past has brought him pleasure as well as the years to come.28 
305	Three hundred knights doth the sire marshal for the fray, 
	and the son as many more; these, they say, have left 
	scant Glisas and Coronia, once their husbandmen, 
	Coronia rich in harvest, Glisas fertile in the grape.
	
	“But rather look at Hypseus casting his shadow far o’er 
310	his lofty steeds, his left side guarded by the sevenfold 
	bull’s-hide of his shield, his breast by triply woven mail: 
	his breast, for no fear hath he for his back. His spear is an 
	ancient glory of the woodland: once thrown it always cleaves 
	armour and flesh alike, and his hand fails never of its aim. 
315	Asopos is deemed his sire, a father worthy 
	to behold, when in full torrent he sweeps past the wreck 
	of bridges, or in swollen wrath and vengeance for his maiden daughter 
	he lashes his waters to fury and scorns the Thunderer her paramour. 
	For they say that Aegina was carried by force from her father’s stream 
320	and hidden in the embrace of Jove; the river in wild rage prepares 
	fierce war against the stars – not yet had even the gods 
	such licence –; in defiant, quenchless anger he stood 
	and strove, nor had he any whose aid he could implore, 
	till, scarce subdued by the threefold lightning of the brand, 
325	he yielded. Even yet doth the proud flood rejoice from out 
	his heaving banks to pant forth ‘gainst heaven fiery ashes, 
	the signs of his dire punishment, and Aetnaean vapours. 
	Such fury shall we marvelling see in Hypseus on the Cadmean 
	plain, if but Aegina has happily appeased the Thunderer. 
330	He leads the men of Itone and Minerva’s Alalcomenaean 
	bands, and those whom Midea furnishes and Arne rich in grapes, 
	the men who sow the fields of Aulis and of Graea and verdant Plataeae, 
	and subdue Peteon with furrows and hold – where it is ours – 
	Euripus whose current ebbs and flows, and thee, Anthedon, 
335	remotest of our lands, where from the grassy shore Glaucus 
	plunged beneath the waters that summoned him, sea-green already 
	in face and hair, and started to behold the fish-tail growing from his waist.29 
	They whirl the sling and cleave the zephyrs with 
	the bullets: their javelins will outstrip fleet arrows.
	
340	Thou too, Cephisus, wouldst have sent Narcissus,30 pre-eminent 
	in beauty, but already, stubborn-hearted boy, he is a pale flower in 
	a Thespian field: thou, O father, dost lave it with thy childless waves. 
	Who could recount to thee the troops of Phoebus and of ancient 
	Phocis? Panope, Daulis, Cyparissos, thy valleys, Lebadia, 
345	and Hyampolis that nestles beneath a beetling cliff, 
	the husbandmen who with their bulls upturn Parnassos’ either 
	slope and Cirrha and Anemoria and the woodland 
	of Corycia, and Lilaea that sends forth the ice-cold springs 
	of Cephisus, whither Python was wont to take his panting 
350	thirst and turn aside the river from the sea: 
	on all their helms behold the entwined bay, on all 
	their armour Tityos or Delos or the quivers that 
	the god emptied here in countless slaughter.31 
	Their leader is warlike Iphitus, whose father lately slain was 
355	Naubolus, son of Hippasus, thy friend, most gentle Laius: 
	still was I holding the chariot-reins, without thought of ill, 
	when thy neck lay mangled by cruel blows beneath the 
	horses’ hooves – would that my blood had flowed there too!” 32
	
	His eyes were moistened as he spoke, and all his face 
360	grew pale, and sudden sobs checked the free passage 
	of his voice; his ward soothes the trembling old man’s 
	friendly heart; he recovers and faintly speaks: 
	“O thou, my anxious pride and chiefest pleasure, 
	Antigone! ‘tis for thee I shamelessly delay my late-arriving death, 
365	though perchance I must behold the crimes and murders of thy house 
	repeated, until I deliver thee unharmed and fit for wedlock: 
	that is enough; then, O Fates, let me leave this weary life. 
	But while I am feebly swooning, what mighty champions – ah! 
	now I see them again – have passed before us! Clonis I numbered not, 
370	nor the long-haired sons of Abas, nor thy men, rocky Carystus, 
	nor low-lying Aegae and lofty Caphereus. 
	But now my dimmed sight says me nay, and all have halted, 
	while thy brother, look! bids the armed hosts be silent.”
	
	Scarce had the old man ended upon the tower, when the prince began 
375	from a high mound: “Great-hearted chieftains, whom I your leader would not 
	refuse to obey and fight, a common soldier for my native Thebes, 
	no attempt were mine to stir your zeal – for freely have ye rushed 
	to arms and of your own accord taken oath to champion my righteous anger – 
	nor shall I suffice to praise enough or pay you worthy thanks – 
380	the gods and your own victory o’er the foe will make requital; 
	from friendly peoples are ye come to protect a city 
	assailed by no pillaging warrior from foreign shores, 
	no stranger from an alien land, but a native enemy, 
	who as he marshals his opposing camps has here 
385	a father and a mother and sisters of one blood, ay, and a brother 
	had he too. Lo! with what guilt thou plottest destruction everywhere 
	against thy father’s race; but the Aonian peoples have come 
	willingly to my aid, nor, cruel one, am I left to be thy victim. 
	What yonder army wills, thou too shouldest be feeling: they forbid me 
390	to give up the throne.” Thus he spoke, and orders all things 
	duly, who are to meet the foe, who to guard the walls, 
	what troops shall lead the van, whom he shall place in mid-array. 
	Even so does a shepherd, while the earth is fresh and the rays are 
	shining through the doorways, unfasten the wattled pens; he bids 
395	the leaders go first, then follow the crowding ewes; 
	he himself aids those that are with young, and the parents whose 
	udders trail the ground, and bears to their mothers’ side the failing lambs.
	
	Meanwhile the Danai by day and night and night and day 
	march under arms: wrath bears them onward; 
400	they scorn repose, scarce sleep or food 
	delays them, like a fleeing army they haste toward 
	the foe. They heed not the portents that chance, the herald 
	of doom, with ominous presage strews thickly in their path; 
	for birds and beasts give awful warnings, 
405	stars also and backward flowing rivers, the Father 
	thunders against them and baneful lightnings gleam; 
	terrifying voices are heard in the shrines, and temple gates shut 
	of their own accord; now it rains blood, now stones, 
	ghosts suddenly appear and sires of old confront them weeping. 
410	Then too did Apollo’s oracle at Cirrha fall silent, 
	and all night through in months unwonted did Eleusis wail, 
	and prophetic Sparta saw in open temples – fearful 
	sight! – the brethren of Amyclae33 locked in conflict. 
	The Arcadians say that in the silence of the night Lycaon’s 
415	shade barked madly,34 and hiss own Pisa tells that 
	Oenomaus drove o’er that cruel plain; Achelous, maimed of 
	either horn,35 was dishonoured by the Acarnanian exile.36 
	Sad is the image of Perseus to which Mycenae prays, and downcast 
	is Juno’s ivory statue; the rustics tell how mighty Inachus 
420	bellowed, and the dweller by the double main37 how 
	Theban Palaemon made lament over the whole sea. 
	The Pelopean phalanx hears these warnings, but warlike ardour 
	hinders heavenly counsels and robs them of their terror.
	
	Already they were come to thy banks, Asopus, and the Boeotian 
425	streams. The squadrons dared not cross the hostile river 
	forthwith; by chance too he was descending in mighty flood upon 
	the trembling fields, whether the rain-bringing bow 
	or mountain clouds had given him strength, or whether the river-sire 
	so purposed and hurled his stream athwart them to forbid their arms. 
430	Then fierce Hippomedon with a great tearing of the bank 
	thrust down his wavering steed, and supported by reins 
	and trappings shouts from mid-stream to the leaders left behind: 
	“Forward, ye men! And I will be the first, I warrant you, 
	to lead the attack and break through the Theban ramparts.” 
435	All fling themselves into the river, ashamed to have but followed. 
	Just so do cattle stand dismayed when the herdsman drives 
	them to an unknown stream; far distant seems the other bank, 
	and fear38 stretches wide between; but when the chieftain 
	bull leaps in and makes the crossing, then gentler seem the waters, 
440	and easier to plunge, and the banks seem to draw nearer.
	
	Not far from thence they mark a ridge and suitable ground 
	for a safe camp, whence too they can behold the city and the 
	Sidonian towers; the situation pleased them and offered secure 
	retreat upon a high and spreading hill, with open swelling 
445	fields beneath nor any other mountains near at hand 
	to overlook; no weary toil added long lines of earthworks, 
	for nature herself marvellously favoured the spot. 
	Rocks rose to form a rampart, and the shelving earth served 
	for trenches, and four chance mounds made bastions: 
450	the rest they themselves provide, until all the light 
	had left the hills, and sleep gave rest to weariness.
	
	What words could portray the consternation of Thebes? 
	In the face of war’s impending doom dark night racks her 
	with sleepless terror and threatens her with the coming day. 
455	Men hurry hither and thither on the walls; in that awful panic nought 
	seems guarded or secure enough, no strength is in Amphion’s fortress. 
	Rumour announces other foes on every side, and Fear yet 
	more and mightier; yonder they see the Inachian tents 
	and foreign watch-fires in their own native hills. 
460	Some pray and entreat the gods, others exhort their weapons 
	of war and battle-steeds, others weeping embrace the hearts 
	they love and piteously appoint their pyres and funeral honours 
	for the morrow.39 If their eyes are closed in a brief slumber, 
	they are waging war; distraught they now sicken of life, now prize 
465	delay; they pray for the light, yet fear its coming. 
	Tisiphone, shaking her twin serpents, goes rioting through 
	either camp; brother against brother she inflames 
	and against both their sire: aroused he wanders far from his secret cell,40 
	and implores the Furies and prays for his lost eyes once more.
	
470	Already had breaking day put out cold Phoebe 
	and the fading stars, while Ocean was pregnant with dawning 
	fire, and the sea’s expanse, revealed by new-born Titan, 
	was sinking to rest beneath his radiant panting steeds: 
	lo! Jocasta, wild-eyed, with hoary unkempt hair falling 
475	about her haggard face, her bosom bruised and livid 
	and in her hand a branch of olive entwined with sable wool, 
	goes forth from the gates in all the mighty majesty 
	of sorrow, like to the most ancient of the Furies. 
	On this side and on that her daughters, now the better sex,41 support her 
480	as she hastens her aged limbs and would fain go faster than her strength 
	allows. She goes to meet the foe, and baring her breast she 
	strikes upon the gates and with tremulous wail prays 
	for admittance: “Unbar the road! it is the guilty mother of the 
	war who asks you; some right to utter curses in this camp have I 
485	by virtue of this womb.” The squadrons started with alarm beholding her, 
	and hearing her, yet more; and now the messenger sent to Adrastus returns; 
	at his command they receive her, and open a way through the swords’ midst. 
	
	As soon as she saw the Achaean princes, 
	she uttered a fearful cry of rage and grief: 
490	“Ye Argive chiefs, who will show me the enemy 
	whom I bore? Under what helm – tell me – shall I find 
	my son?” Thus frantic she is met by the Cadmean hero, 
	who clasps her to him and sheds tears of joy, 
	and holding her in his arms consoles her, and ever and anon 
495	repeats “mother!” “mother!” entreating now herself, now his beloved 
	sisters – when the aged dame mingles sharp anger with her weeping: 
	“Why this pretence of unmanly tears and venerable names to me, 
	O Argive prince? Why doest thou put thy arms about my neck, 
	and crush thy hated mother against this mail-clad breast? 
500	Art thou that wandering exile, that hapless stranger? 
	Whose heart wouldest thou not stir? Far-stretching cohorts 
	await thy word and countless blades glitter at thy side. 
	Ah! we unhappy mothers! Is this the son whom I wept for day 
	and night? Yet if thou hast respect for the counsel of thy 
505	kinsfolk, now, while the armies are silent, and natural affection 
	shrinks irresolute from war, I thy mother command thee and entreat: 
	come with me, and look at least on thy country’s gods and the homes 
	which soon must burn, and, thy brother – why dost thou look away? – 
	speak to thy brother and demand thy realm with me now for arbiter: 
510	either he will grant it, or thou wilt resume the sword with better right. 
	Or fearest thou, lest there be treachery, and I thy mother purposely 
	deceive thee? Not so wholly ahs righteousness fled our unhappy 
	house; scarce shouldst thou have to fear if Oedipus led thee.42 
	Sinful verily was my marrying and my bringing forth, but I love you 
515	even so – ah! bitter grief! – and even now forgive your fury. 
	But if thou dost persist so far, of our own accord we give thee to the victory, 
	cruel one! Seize thy sisters and bind their hands behind them, 
	load me with chains; thy sire shall also be brought hither, aged 
	though he be. And now to your sense of shame, ye sons of Inachus, 
520	I turn my sad appeal; for ye have left at home, each one of you, 
	little ones and aged parents and tears like these: believe in a mother’s 
	feelings! If my son here has grown dear to you so soon – and I pray 
	he may be dear – what must I feel, Pelasgians, how must this bosom 
	suffer! This might I have borne from Hyrcanian or Odrysian 
525	princes, and those whose frenzy surpassed my own. 
	Grant my request, or may I die here with my arms around my son, 
	nor live to see this war.”
	
				The proud cohorts quailed before her words, 
	and one could have seen the warriors’ helmets quaking and their armour 
	bedewed with pious tears. As when lions with furious 
530	impact have strewn men and weapons on the ground, 
	straightway their wrath abates, and they rejoice to sate their hunger 
	untroubled on the captured pray: so the Pelasgians’ hearts are 
	swayed and waver, and their fiery greed of battle grows tame.
	
	He himself, even before their eyes, turns to kiss now his mother, 
535	now Ismene plain of speech, now Antigone more tearful in her 
	appeal, and in the varied tumult that distracts his mind the kingdom 
	is forgot; he would fain go, nor does kindly Adrastus forbid him; 
	then Tydeus, mindful of righteous anger, breaks in upon him: 
	“Send me rather, comrades, who lately made trial of Eteocles’ 
540	word, though not his brother, send me to face the king, 
	whose boasted peace and honest covenant I yet bear on this 
	breast of mine. Where then was the mother, mediator of peace 
	and honour, when ye stayed me that night with such noble 
	welcome? Is it to such intercourse thou dost drag thy son? 
545	Take him to that field which reeks yet richly of Theban blood, 
	and richly yet of mine. Wilt thou follow her so far, 
	too soft of heart, alas! and too forgetful of thy friends? 
	Forsooth, when bared blades flash all round thee in 
	hostile hands, her tears shall lay those swords to rest? 
550	Fool that thou art, will he send thee back to the Argive camp, 
	once safe within his walls and at the mercy of his hatred? 
	Ere that will this lance shake off its point and burgeon, 
	or Inachus and my own Achelous flow backward. But ‘tis gentle 
	speech that thou art seeking, and peace amid savage arms: 
555	well, this camp too is open to thee, nor has yet merited fear.43 
	Or am I suspected? then I depart and make a present of my wounds.44 
	Let him enter: here too will he find mother and sisters to mediate. 
	But suppose that utterly defeated he quits his covenanted realm: 
	wilt thou surrender it a second time?” The troops, swayed by his words, 
560	veer round again; as when in a sudden hurricane the South wind 
	swooping down wrests from Boreas the mastery of the sea. 
	The rage of battle finds favour once more; fierce Erinys 
	seizes the moment and sows the seed of opening conflict.
	
	Two tigers were straying by Dirce’s waters, gentle yoke-fellows, 
565	whose warlike chariot had once laid waste the East, but Liber, 
	lately triumphant from Erythraean45 shores, 
	had suffered them to roam in Aonian fields. 
	The followers of the god and, as of wont, an aged priest are zealous 
	to adorn them, forgetful now of bloodshed and redolent of Indian herbs, 
570	with full-grown shoots and varied clusters of the vine, 
	and deck their spotted hide with bands of purple. 
	And by now the very hills and even – who would believe it? – 
	the cattle loved them, and the lowing heifers ventured near; 
	for no hunger drives them to fell deeds, they take their food from hands 
575	ready to feed them, and throw back their terrible heads to quaff the wine 
	outpoured; they wander at peace over the countryside; and whenever 
	with placid gait they come into the city, every home and every temple glows 
	with sacrificial fire, and all believe that Lyaeus himself has entered. 
	These did the Fury touch, three times each, with her 
580	snaky lash, and stung them to their former mood of 
	madness; they dash forth, and the fields know them not. 
	As when from opposing tracts of heaven two lightning-brands burst 
	forth together, and falling trail through the clouds their length of hair: 
	not otherwise do they with rapid course and furious roar bound 
585	o’er the plains, with a mighty spring seize thy charioteer, 
	Amphiaraus – nor was it without ill omen,46 that by chance 
	he was first driving his master’s horses to a neighbouring mere – 
	then assail Taenarian Idas, following, and Aetolian 
	Acamas; the horn-footed steeds flee madly over 
590	the fields, until Aconteus, kindling at the sight of heroes 
	slain – an Arcadian was he, of wonted valour in the 
	chase – pursued them, now making for their trusted walls, 
	with thick-flung darts, and plying many a spear drove 
	thrice and again the poised javelin through their backs 
595	and flanks. But they with a long trail of streaming 
	blood bear fainting to the gates the darts that 
	pierced them, and uttering human wails lean 
	their wounded bodies on the walls they love. 
	One would think the city and its shrines were being plundered, 
600	and the Sidonian homes were ablaze with accursed fire, such clamour 
	arises when the gates are opened; rather would they that the cradle 
	of great Hercules had perished, or Semele’s bower or Harmonia’s 
	bridal chamber. Phegeus, votary of Bacchus, rushes 
	with drawn sword on Aconteus, now weaponless and exulting 
605	in his victims twain; the youth of Tegea dash up in tardy 
	succour, but already on the sacred bodies of the beasts 
	the youth lies dead, and sorrowing Bacchus is avenged.
	
	The Grecian council too is broken up in the sudden tumult 
	of the camp: Jocasta flees through the enemy, already in battle trim; 
610	no longer dares she supplicate; they, of late so courteous, 
	now spurn her and her daughters, and Tydeus is quick to use 
	the moment: “Away with you, now hope for peace and honest dealing! 
	Surely he could have waited and delayed the outrage till his mother 
	had returned in safety?” So speaking he bares his blade 
615	and calls to his comrades. And now fierce shouts are raised, 
	and on every side wrath boils to fever-heat; the host assembles in disorder, 
	chiefs are confounded with the common soldiers, and leaders’ commands 
	unmarked; horsemen, infantry in troops and rapid chariots are 
	intermixed, and an indiscriminate mob urges the rout, 
620	nor is there time to display themselves nor scan the foe. 
	Then in sudden swarms the youth of Thebes and Argos 
	engaged; standards and bugles are in the rear, 
	and the trumpets must needs follow to find the battle. 
	So great waxes the conflict from so little bloodshed! 
625	Even so the wind gathers its earliest strength within the clouds: 
	gentle as yet, it sways the leaves and the unprotected summits, 
	but soon it has torn away the forest and laid the dark mountain bare to view.
	
	Come now, Pierian sisters, ‘tis of no far-off deeds we 
	bid you tell, sing your own country’s wars, your own 
630	Aonia; for ye beheld while Mars raged near and the quills 
	of Helicon shook at the blaring of Tyrrhenian bronze.
	
	The horse of Sidonian Pterelas, untrustworthy in battle, carries 
	his rider, tearing at the reins, through the enemy’s lines; and now 
	he is free, so weary is his master’s arm, when through his shoulder 
635	the spear of Tydeus flies, and pierces the youth’s left thigh and 
	nails him swooning to his seat; away he dashes, pinned 
	to his dead lord, and bears him on, though no more he holds 
	weapon or bridle: even as a Centaur, not yet bereft 
	of both his lives, sinks on his own back in death. 
640	They vie with each other in the deadly work: in furious interchange 
	Hippomedon lays Sybaris low, Menoeceus Pylian Periphas, 
	Parthenopaeus Itys: Sybaris falls a victim to the reeking blade, 
	fierce Periphas to the spear-point, Itys to a treacherous arrow. 
	Marvortian Haemus severs with a blow the neck of Inachian 
645	Caeneus: his eyes wide-opened seek the trunk across 
	the cloven wound, his spirit the head; already Abas 
	was spoiling him as he lay, when caught by an Achaean shaft 
	he left fall in death his foeman’s buckler and his own.
	
	Who persuaded thee, Eunaeus, to desert they Bacchic 
650	worship and the groves a priest may never leave, 
	and to change thy Bromian frenzy? Whom 
	couldst thou make afraid? Pale ivy-wreaths 
	of Nysa garland the weak texture of thy shield, 
	and a while riband is fastened to thy vine-wood javelin. 
655	Tresses hide his shoulders, and the down is yet growing on his cheeks; 
	his corslet blushes unwarlike with threads of Tyrian dye, 
	he wears bracelets upon his arms and embroidered sandals 
	on his feet, and is garbed in linen folds; a smooth golden 
	clasp bites with a tawny jasper stone his Taenarian cloak, 
660	whereon rattle the nimble bow-case and the bow 
	and the hanging quivers of gold-embroidered lynxes’ hide. 
	Crazed by the god he goes through the midst of thousands, 
	and cries afar: “Stay your hands! these walls Apollo 
	revealed by the good omen of Cirrha’s heifer!47 Forbear! 
665	rocks came willingly of their own accord to form them. 
	A sacred race are we: Jove is this city’s son-in-law, and its 
	father-in-law is Gradivus48: Bacchus and great Alcides we truly 
	call our children.”
	
			Amid boasts so vain fierce 
	Capaneus meets him, a tall spear in his hand. 
670	And as at break of day a lion in his gloomy lair stirs up 
	his fresh-awoken fury, and spies from the grim cave 
	a hind or bullock with yet unwarlike forehead, 
	and leaps forth with joyous roar, though assailed by the spears 
	of hunting bands, but he sees his prey and knows not of his wounds: 
675	so then did Capaneus exult in the unequal conflict and 
	poised for the throw the great weight of his cypress-spear. 
	Yet first he cries: “Why, doomed one, doest thou affright our troops 
	with womanly howls? Would that he for whom thou ragest would come 
	himself to battle! Go, bawl that message to thy Tyrian dames!” and therewith 
680	he flung the spear, which in its flight, as though no force could meet and stay it, 
	scarce rang upon the shield and already had passed clean through his back. 
	His weapons fall, the gold resounds with long choking sobs, 
	blood streams forth and overflows his bosom. Thou art fallen, bold youth; 
	thou too, one favourite more49 of Aonian Lyaeus, art fallen. 
685	Thee languid Ismarus lamented with broken wands, 
	thee Tmolus and fruitful Nysa mourned, and Naxos of Theseus’ fame, 
	and Ganges, that in fear swore fealty to Theban orgies.50
	
	Nor was Eteocles found a sluggard by the Argolic bands, 
	but Polynices’ sword, more sparing, shrank from his countrymen. 
690	Before the rest Amphiaraus shines pre-eminent, although already51 
	his horses fear the ground, and ‘mid clouds of dust he upturns 
	the indignant plain; Apollo sadly sheds a vain lustre 
	upon his servant, and makes his last hours glorious. 
	His shield too and his helm he sets afire with starry 
695	splendours, nor, Gradivus, wert thou slow to grant thy brother 
	that no human hand, no mortal weapon should have power 
	to harm the seer, but that he should go to Dis sacred and venerable 
	in death. In such wise, conscious himself of doom, he is borne into 
	the thickest of the fray; the assurance of death gives him new 
700	strength, his limbs grow mightier and the sky more favourable,52 
	nor ever knew he so well to read the heavens, had he but leisure: 
	but Valour, near the neighbour of death, turns his gaze away. 
	He glows with an insatiable love of savage War 
	and revels in his might, and his fiery soul exults. 
705	Is this he who so oft alleviated the lot of man and made 
	the Fates powerless? How quickly changed from him 
	who was skilled to follow the guidance of tripod and of bay, 
	to salute Phoebus and learn the import of the birds in every cloud! 
	Like some pestilence or adverse ray of baleful star, 
710	his sword offers up to his own shade a host innumerable. 
	With a javelin he slays Phlegyas and proud Phyleus, 
	with scythed chariot he mows down Clonis and Chremetaon, 
	the one standing to fight him, the other he severs at the knee; 
	with spear-thrust Chromis and Iphinous and Sages 
715	and unshorn Gyas and Lycoreus sacred to Phoebus – 
	the last unwillingly: already had he driven home the ashen 
	strength of the spear when the falling crest revealed the fillet – 
	with a stone Alcathous, to whom by the meres of Carystus 
	was home and wife and his children who loved its shores. 
720	Long had he lived a poor searcher of the waters: 
	earth played him false, and dying he praises the storms 
	and winds, and the more welcome dangers of the familiar sea.
	
	Long has Asopian Hypseus beheld from far the slaughter 
	of the scattered rout, and burned to stay the tide of battle, 
725	though he himself not less has put to flight Tirynthian53 forces; 
	but the sight of the augur made him heed the present carnage less: 
	for him his warlike spirit yearns. A dense phalanx 
	of the foe bars his way: then proudly he makes ready 
	a javelin, chosen from his father’s banks, and first 
730	exclaims: “O bounteous lavisher of Aonian streams, 
	Asopus, yet renowned for the ashes of Giants,54 
	give power to this right hand; thy son and the oaken nursling 
	of thy river ask thee; if thou didst strive with the Sire of all 
	the gods, I may despise Phoebus. All his armour will I sink 
735	in thy waters, and the sad fillets from the augur’s head.” 
	His father heard him, but Phoebus would not suffer him, fain though he was, 
	to grant the prayer, and turns the blow aside upon Herses the charioteer. 
	He falls, and the god himself takes up the straying reins, 
	assuming the feigned shape of Haliacmon of Lerna. 
740	Then indeed no squadrons try to resist his fiery course, 
	but flee in terror unalloyed, and in their panic they die 
	a coward’s death unwounded; ‘tis doubtful to the viewer 
	whether the horses were weighed down or pressed onward by the burden. 
	So when a cloud-encompassed mountain-side is loosened 
745	by the fresh storms of winter, or by irresistible decay of age, 
	it crashes down upon the plain, a fearful terror, and sweeps away 
	in many a track of ruin fields, husbandmen, and aged oaks, 
	and at length, its furious rush exhausted, either 
	scoops out a vale or bars a river in mid-course. 
750	Not otherwise does the chariot, burdened by the great warrior 
	and the mighty god, drive furiously through many a scene of bloodshed. 
	From his seat the Delian guides both reins and weapons, 
	and instructs his aim; he turns aside hostile darts 
	and cheats the flying javelins of their fortune. 
755	Menaleus on foot is overthrown, and Antiphus, no whit 
	defended by his lofty steed, and Aëtion, born of a nymph 
	of Helicon, and Polites, ill-renowned for a brother’s murder, 
	and Lampus, who tried to defile the couch of the priestess 
	Manto: against him Phoebus with his own hand sped holy arrows. 
760	And now the horn-footed steeds snort at the corpses in alarm 
	and probe the ground, and every wheel-track runs o’er 
	bodies and reddens deep with severed limbs. 
	Some the remorseless axle grinds unconscious, but others 
	half-dead from wounds – and powerless to escape – 
765	see it as it draws nigh to crush them. Already the reins 
	are wet with gore, the slippery care gives no foothold, blood clogs 
	the wheels and trampled entrails hinder the horses’ 
	hooves: then the hero himself madly tears out darts 
	abandoned in the slain and spears projecting from 
770	the midst of corpses: ghosts shriek and pursue the chariot.
	
	At length, revealing to his servant all his godhead, Apollo said: 
	“Use the light that is thine, and put on eternal fame, 
	while Death irrevocable fears me in thy company. 
	We are overcome: thou knowest that the cruel Fates unravel 
775	no threads; depart, long-promised delight of Elysian peoples, 
	thou who of a surety wilt never bend thy neck 
	to Creon’s rule, or lie exposed and barred from burial.”
	
	The other, taking breath awhile from the fight, makes answer: 
	“Long since knew I, Cirrhaean father, that thou wert seated on 
780	my doomed chariot’s trembling axle – why such high honour to my 
	hapless plight? – How long wilt thou delay the death that threatens me? 
	Already I hear the flow of rapid Styx, and the dark rivers 
	of Dis and the triple baying of his noxious sentinel. 
	Receive the honours thou didst bestow upon my head, receive the laurels 
785	which may not be taken down to Erebus. Now with my last words, 
	if any gratitude be owed to thy prophet ere he depart, 
	I commend to thee, O Phoebus, my betrayed home and 
	the punishment of my wicked spouse and my son’s noble rage.” 
	Sad at heart Apollo leapt down and turned to hide his tears: 
790	then verily groaned the chariot and the horses, thus left desolate. 
	Not otherwise in a blind hurricane at night, when the North-wester 
	blows, does a ship know that she will perish, so soon as the brethren 
	of Therapnae have fled the sials their sister’s fire has doomed.55
	
	And now little by little the earth began to shudder to its 
795	rending, and the surface to rock, and the dust to rise in 
	thicker clouds, already an infernal bellowing fills the plain. 
	In alarm they think it is the battle and noise of conflict, and hasten 
	in their steps: a shock far different hurls arms and warriors 
	and marvelling steeds to earth; already the leafy summits are 
800	nodding, and the walls, and Ismenos flees with all his banks 
	exposed to view; their wrath is abated, they fix their swaying weapons 
	in the ground, or wandering meet and lean on their rocking 
	spears, and start when they see each other’s pallor. 
	So when Bellona, scorning the deep,56 joins ships in battle 
805	on the sea, then, should a kindly tempest befall, 
	all look to their own safety, and another death bids all 
	their swords be sheathed, and common fears make peace among them. 
	Such was the appearance of the heaving combat on the plain. 
	Whether the earth, labouring with imprisoned blasts, 
810	expelled the pent-up fury of the raging wind, 
	or whether hidden waters ate away and wore down and sapped 
	the crumbling soil, or the fabric of the rolling sky flung that way 
	its weight, or Neptune’s trident moved all the ocean 
	and flung too vast a sea upon the shore, or whether 
815	that uproar was a tribute to the seer, or Earth threatened 
	the brothers – lo! in a gaping chasm the ground yawns 
	sheer and deep, and stars and shades feel mutual terror. 
	Him the huge abyss engulfs, and swallows the horses as they 
	try to leap across it; he drops neither reins nor weapons, 
820	but, just as he was, drove his unshaken chariot down to Tartarus, 
	and as he sank looked back at the heavens and groaned to see the plain 
	meet above him, until a fainter shock joined once more 
	the parted fields and shut out the daylight from Avernus.