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As they turn there appears at the back a luminous and gigantic shape, the Goddess ATHENA.
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She becomes invisible where she stands.
ATHENA.
What make ye, from these sleepers thus to part
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Desponding and with sorrow-wounded heart
If Hector be not granted you to slay
Nor Paris? Little know ye what great stay
Of help is found for Troy. This very night
Rhesus is come; who, if he see the light
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Of morning, not Achilles nor the rack
Of Ajax’ spear hath power to hold him back,
Ere wall and gate be shattered and inside
Your camp a spear-swept causeway builded wide
To where beached galleys flame above the dead.
Him slay, and all is won. Let Hector’s head
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Sleep where it lies and draw unvexèd breath;
Another’s work, not thine, is Hector’s death.
What make ye, from these sleepers thus to part
595
Desponding and with sorrow-wounded heart
If Hector be not granted you to slay
Nor Paris? Little know ye what great stay
Of help is found for Troy. This very night
Rhesus is come; who, if he see the light
600
Of morning, not Achilles nor the rack
Of Ajax’ spear hath power to hold him back,
Ere wall and gate be shattered and inside
Your camp a spear-swept causeway builded wide
To where beached galleys flame above the dead.
Him slay, and all is won. Let Hector’s head
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Sleep where it lies and draw unvexèd breath;
Another’s work, not thine, is Hector’s death.
ODYSSEUS.
Most high Athena, well I know the sound
Of that immortal voice. ’Tis ever found
My helper in great perils.—Where doth lie
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Rhesus, mid all this host of Barbary?
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Most high Athena, well I know the sound
Of that immortal voice. ’Tis ever found
My helper in great perils.—Where doth lie
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Rhesus, mid all this host of Barbary?
ATHENA.
Full near he lies, not mingled with the host
Of Troy, but here beyond the lines—a post
Of quiet till the dawn, that Hector found.
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And near him, by his Thracian chariot bound,
Two snow-white coursers gleam against the wan
Moon, like the white wing of a river swan.
Their master slain, take these to thine own hearth,
A wondrous spoil; there hides not upon earth
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A chariot-team of war so swift and fair.
Full near he lies, not mingled with the host
Of Troy, but here beyond the lines—a post
Of quiet till the dawn, that Hector found.
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And near him, by his Thracian chariot bound,
Two snow-white coursers gleam against the wan
Moon, like the white wing of a river swan.
Their master slain, take these to thine own hearth,
A wondrous spoil; there hides not upon earth
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A chariot-team of war so swift and fair.
ODYSSEUS.
Say, Diomede, wilt make the men thy share,
Or catch the steeds and leave the fight to me?
Say, Diomede, wilt make the men thy share,
Or catch the steeds and leave the fight to me?
DIOMEDE.
I take the killing, thou the stablery:
It needs keen wit and a neat hand. The post
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A man should take is where he helpeth most.
I take the killing, thou the stablery:
It needs keen wit and a neat hand. The post
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A man should take is where he helpeth most.
ATHENA.
Behold, ’tis Paris, hasting there toward
This tent. Methinks he knoweth from the guard
Some noise of prowling Argives hither blown.
Behold, ’tis Paris, hasting there toward
This tent. Methinks he knoweth from the guard
Some noise of prowling Argives hither blown.
DIOMEDE.
Comes he alone or with his guards?
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Comes he alone or with his guards?
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ATHENA.
Alone;
Toward Hector’s quarters, as I deem, he plies
His message. He hath heard some tale of spies.
Alone;
Toward Hector’s quarters, as I deem, he plies
His message. He hath heard some tale of spies.
DIOMEDE.
Then he shall be the first dead Trojan!
Then he shall be the first dead Trojan!
ATHENA.
No;
Beyond the ordainèd end thou canst not go.
Fate hath not willed that Paris by thy deed
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Shall die; it is another who must bleed
To-night. Therefore be swift!
Exeunt ODYSSEUS and DIOMEDE.
For me, my guise
Shall melt and change in Alexander’s eyes,
Yea, till he dream ’tis Cypris, his delight
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And help in need, that meets him in the night,
And soft shall be my words to him I hate.
So speak I; but on whom my spell is set
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He hears not, sees not, though so near I stand.
She becomes invisible where she stands.No;
Beyond the ordainèd end thou canst not go.
Fate hath not willed that Paris by thy deed
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Shall die; it is another who must bleed
To-night. Therefore be swift!
For me, my guise
Shall melt and change in Alexander’s eyes,
Yea, till he dream ’tis Cypris, his delight
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And help in need, that meets him in the night,
And soft shall be my words to him I hate.
So speak I; but on whom my spell is set
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He hears not, sees not, though so near I stand.
Rhesus. Euripides. Gilbert Murray (Translator). London. 1913.
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