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SHEPHERD.
Ho, Master!
Enter HECTOR from tent.
I would it ofttimes were my luck to share
As goodly news with thee as now I bear.
265
Ho, Master!
Enter HECTOR from tent.
I would it ofttimes were my luck to share
As goodly news with thee as now I bear.
265
HECTOR.
What dulness hangs about these shepherds! Block,
1
Com’st thou to us with tidings of thy flock
Here in the field in arms? Who wants thee here?
Thou know’st my house; thou know’st my father’s.
There
270
Tell all about thy lucky lambs.—Now go.
What dulness hangs about these shepherds! Block,
1
Com’st thou to us with tidings of thy flock
Here in the field in arms? Who wants thee here?
Thou know’st my house; thou know’st my father’s.
There
270
Tell all about thy lucky lambs.—Now go.
SHEPHERD.
Dull wits, we shepherds! Aye, ’twas alway so.
Yet still, there is some good news to be told.
Dull wits, we shepherds! Aye, ’twas alway so.
Yet still, there is some good news to be told.
HECTOR.
A truce there to thy gossip of the fold!
Our dealings are of war, of sword and spear.
He turns to go.
A truce there to thy gossip of the fold!
Our dealings are of war, of sword and spear.
SHEPHERD.
Aye; so were mine. That is what brought me here.
275
HECTOR’S manner changes.
A chief comes yonder, leading a great band
Of spears, with help to thee and all the land.
Aye; so were mine. That is what brought me here.
275
A chief comes yonder, leading a great band
Of spears, with help to thee and all the land.
HECTOR.
From whence? How do his name and lineage run?
From whence? How do his name and lineage run?
SHEPHERD.
He comes from
Thrace
, the River Strymon’s son.
He comes from
Thrace
, the River Strymon’s son.
HECTOR.
Rhesus! Not Rhesus, here on Trojan soil?
280
Rhesus! Not Rhesus, here on Trojan soil?
280
SHEPHERD.
Thou hast guessed. That eases me of half my toil.
Thou hast guessed. That eases me of half my toil.
HECTOR.
What makes he there towards Ida? All astray
Thus from the plain and the broad waggon-way!
284
What makes he there towards Ida? All astray
Thus from the plain and the broad waggon-way!
SHEPHERD.
I know not rightly, though one well may guess.
2
’Tis hard to land at night, with such a press
285
Of spears, on a strange coast, where rumours tell
Of foes through all the plain-land. We that dwell
On Ida, in the rock, Troy’s ancient root
And hearth-stone, were well frighted, through the mute
And wolfish thickets thus to hear him break.
A great and rushing noise those Thracians make,
290
Marching. We, all astonied, ran to drive
Our sheep to the upmost heights. ’Twas some
Argive
,
We thought, who came to sweep the mountain clear
And waste thy folds; till suddenly our ear
Caught at their speech, and knew ’twas nothing Greek.
Then all our terror fled. I ran to seek
295
Some scout or pioneer who led the van
And called in Thracian:
Ho, what child of man
Doth lead you? From what nation do ye bring
This host with aid to
Ilion
and her king?
He told me what I sought, and there I stood
300
Watching; and saw one gleaming like a God,
Tall in the darkness on a Thracian car.
A plate of red gold mated, like a bar,
His coursers’ necks, white, white as fallen snow.
A carven targe, with golden shapes aglow,
305
Hung o’er his back. Before each courser’s head
A Gorgon, to the frontlet riveted,
With bells set round-like stories that they tell
Of Pallas’ shield-made music terrible.
The numbers of that host no pen could write
Nor reckon; ’tis a multitudinous sight,
310
Long lines of horsemen, lines of targeteers,
Archers abundant; and behind them veers
A wavering horde, light-armed, in Thracian weed.
A friend is come to
Ilion
in her need
’Gainst whom no
Argive
, let him fly or stand,
315
Shall aught avail nor ’scape his conquering hand.
I know not rightly, though one well may guess.
2
’Tis hard to land at night, with such a press
285
Of spears, on a strange coast, where rumours tell
Of foes through all the plain-land. We that dwell
On Ida, in the rock, Troy’s ancient root
And hearth-stone, were well frighted, through the mute
And wolfish thickets thus to hear him break.
A great and rushing noise those Thracians make,
290
Marching. We, all astonied, ran to drive
Our sheep to the upmost heights. ’Twas some
Argive
,
We thought, who came to sweep the mountain clear
And waste thy folds; till suddenly our ear
Caught at their speech, and knew ’twas nothing Greek.
Then all our terror fled. I ran to seek
295
Some scout or pioneer who led the van
And called in Thracian:
Ho, what child of man
Doth lead you? From what nation do ye bring
This host with aid to
Ilion
and her king?
He told me what I sought, and there I stood
300
Watching; and saw one gleaming like a God,
Tall in the darkness on a Thracian car.
A plate of red gold mated, like a bar,
His coursers’ necks, white, white as fallen snow.
A carven targe, with golden shapes aglow,
305
Hung o’er his back. Before each courser’s head
A Gorgon, to the frontlet riveted,
With bells set round-like stories that they tell
Of Pallas’ shield-made music terrible.
The numbers of that host no pen could write
Nor reckon; ’tis a multitudinous sight,
310
Long lines of horsemen, lines of targeteers,
Archers abundant; and behind them veers
A wavering horde, light-armed, in Thracian weed.
A friend is come to
Ilion
in her need
’Gainst whom no
Argive
, let him fly or stand,
315
Shall aught avail nor ’scape his conquering hand.
LEADER.
Lo, when the Gods breathe gently o’er a town,
All runs to good, as water-streams run down.
319
Lo, when the Gods breathe gently o’er a town,
All runs to good, as water-streams run down.
HECTOR.
(bitterly)
Aye, when my spear hath fortune, when God sends
His favour, I shall find abundant friends.
320
I need them not; who never came of yore
To help us, when we rolled to death before
The war-swell, and the wind had ripped our sail.
Then Rhesus taught us Trojans what avail
His words are.—He comes early to the feast;
325
Where was he when the hunters met the beast?
Where, when we sank beneath the
Argive
spear?
Aye, when my spear hath fortune, when God sends
His favour, I shall find abundant friends.
320
I need them not; who never came of yore
To help us, when we rolled to death before
The war-swell, and the wind had ripped our sail.
Then Rhesus taught us Trojans what avail
His words are.—He comes early to the feast;
325
Where was he when the hunters met the beast?
Where, when we sank beneath the
Argive
spear?
LEADER.
Well may’st thou mock and blame thy friend. Yet here
He comes with help for Troy. Accept him thou.
Well may’st thou mock and blame thy friend. Yet here
He comes with help for Troy. Accept him thou.
HECTOR.
We are enough, who have held the wall till now.
We are enough, who have held the wall till now.
LEADER.
Master, dost think already that our foe
330
Is ta’en?
Master, dost think already that our foe
330
Is ta’en?
HECTOR.
I do. To-morrow’s light will show.
I do. To-morrow’s light will show.
LEADER.
Have care. Fate often flings a backward cast.
Have care. Fate often flings a backward cast.
HECTOR.
I hate the help that comes when need is past . . .
Howbeit, once come, I bid him welcome here
As guest—not war-friend; guest to share our cheer.
The thanks are lost, he might have won from us.
I hate the help that comes when need is past . . .
Howbeit, once come, I bid him welcome here
As guest—not war-friend; guest to share our cheer.
The thanks are lost, he might have won from us.
LEADER.
My general, to reject an ally thus
Must needs make hatred.
My general, to reject an ally thus
Must needs make hatred.
SHEPHERD.
The mere sight of those
335
I saw would sure cast fear upon our foes.
The mere sight of those
335
I saw would sure cast fear upon our foes.
HECTOR.
(yielding reluctantly, with a laugh)
Ah, well; thy words are prudent; and
(To SHEPHERD) thine eyes
See glorious things. With all these panoplies
Of gold that filled our Shepherd’s heart with joy,
340
Bid Rhesus welcome, as war-friend to Troy.
Exit SHEPHERD; HECTOR returns to his tent, amid the joy of the soldiers.Ah, well; thy words are prudent; and
(To SHEPHERD) thine eyes
See glorious things. With all these panoplies
Of gold that filled our Shepherd’s heart with joy,
340
Bid Rhesus welcome, as war-friend to Troy.
Rhesus. Euripides. Gilbert Murray (Translator). London. 1913.
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