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[A sound of marching without.
Enter AENEAS.
LEADER.
Who comes? Aeneas, and in haste, as though
85
Fraught with some sudden tiding of the night.
Enter AENEAS.
Who comes? Aeneas, and in haste, as though
85
Fraught with some sudden tiding of the night.
AENEAS.
Hector, what means it? Watchers in affright
Who gather shouting at thy doors, and then
Hold midnight council, shaking all our men?
Hector, what means it? Watchers in affright
Who gather shouting at thy doors, and then
Hold midnight council, shaking all our men?
HECTOR.
To arms, Aeneas! Arm from head to heel!
90
To arms, Aeneas! Arm from head to heel!
90
AENEAS.
What is it? Tidings? Doth the
Argive
steal
Some march, some ambush in the day’s eclipse?
What is it? Tidings? Doth the
Argive
steal
Some march, some ambush in the day’s eclipse?
HECTOR.
’Tis flight, man! They are marching to the ships.
’Tis flight, man! They are marching to the ships.
AENEAS.
How know’st thou?—Have we proof that it is flight?
How know’st thou?—Have we proof that it is flight?
HECTOR.
They are burning beacon-fires the livelong night.
95
They never mean to wait till dawn. Behind
That screen of light they are climbing in the blind
Dark to their ships—unmooring from our coast.
They are burning beacon-fires the livelong night.
95
They never mean to wait till dawn. Behind
That screen of light they are climbing in the blind
Dark to their ships—unmooring from our coast.
AENEAS.
(looking toward the distant fires: after a pause)
God guide them!—Why then do you arm the host?
God guide them!—Why then do you arm the host?
HECTOR.
I mean to lame them in their climbing, I
100
And my good spear, and break them as they fly.
Black shame it were, and folly worse than shame,
To let these spoilers go the road they came
Unpunished, when God gives them to us here.
I mean to lame them in their climbing, I
100
And my good spear, and break them as they fly.
Black shame it were, and folly worse than shame,
To let these spoilers go the road they came
Unpunished, when God gives them to us here.
AENEAS.
Brother, I would thy wit were like thy spear!
1
105
But Nature wills not one man should be wise
In all things; each must seek his separate prize.
And thine is battle pure. There comes this word
Of beacons, on the touch thy soul is stirred:
They fly! Out horse and chariots!—Out withal
110
Past stake and trench, while night hangs like a pall!
Say, when we cross that coiling depth of dyke,
We find the foe not fled, but turned to strike;
One check there, and all hope of good return
Is gone. How can our men, returning, learn
115
The tricks of the palisade? The chariots how
Keep to the bridges on the trenches’ brow,
Save with jammed wheels and broken axles? Aye,
And say thou conquer: other wars yet lie
Before thee. Peleus’ son, for all his ire,
Will never let thee touch the ships with fire
120
Or pounce on his Greek lambs. The man will bide
No wrong and standeth on a tower of pride.
Nay, brother, let the army, head on shield,
Sleep off its long day’s labour in the field:
Then, send a spy; find someone who will dare
125
Creep to yon
Argive
camp. Then, if ’tis clear
They mean flight, on and smite them as they fly.
Else, if the beacons hide some strategy,
The spy will read it out, and we can call
A council.—Thus speak I, my general.
130
Brother, I would thy wit were like thy spear!
1
105
But Nature wills not one man should be wise
In all things; each must seek his separate prize.
And thine is battle pure. There comes this word
Of beacons, on the touch thy soul is stirred:
They fly! Out horse and chariots!—Out withal
110
Past stake and trench, while night hangs like a pall!
Say, when we cross that coiling depth of dyke,
We find the foe not fled, but turned to strike;
One check there, and all hope of good return
Is gone. How can our men, returning, learn
115
The tricks of the palisade? The chariots how
Keep to the bridges on the trenches’ brow,
Save with jammed wheels and broken axles? Aye,
And say thou conquer: other wars yet lie
Before thee. Peleus’ son, for all his ire,
Will never let thee touch the ships with fire
120
Or pounce on his Greek lambs. The man will bide
No wrong and standeth on a tower of pride.
Nay, brother, let the army, head on shield,
Sleep off its long day’s labour in the field:
Then, send a spy; find someone who will dare
125
Creep to yon
Argive
camp. Then, if ’tis clear
They mean flight, on and smite them as they fly.
Else, if the beacons hide some strategy,
The spy will read it out, and we can call
A council.—Thus speak I, my general.
130
Rhesus. Euripides. Gilbert Murray (Translator). London. 1913.
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