Book 12

The Greeks assemble their troops at Aulis, to proceed against the city of Troy, and revenge the rape of Helen; but the fleet is detained in port by contrary winds. Calchas, the priest, after a prediction concerning the success of the expedition, declares that the weather will never be favourable till Agamemnon shall have sacrificed his daughter Iphigenia. She is immediately led to the altar for that purpose; but Diana, appeased by this act of obedience, carries away the maiden, and substitutes a hind in her place, on which a fair wind arises. Upon the Greeks landing at Troy, a battle is fought, in which Protesilaüs is killed by Hector, and Achilles kills Cygnus, a Trojan, on which his father Neptune transforms him into a swan.

The Greeks gather their troops at Aulis to march against Troy and avenge the abduction of Helen. But contrary winds keep the fleet in port. Calchas, the priest, predicts the expedition’s success. He then declares that the weather will not improve until Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter Iphigenia. She is immediately led to the altar for the sacrifice. But Diana, satisfied by this act of obedience, carries Iphigenia away and puts a female deer in her place. A favorable wind then rises. When the Greeks land at Troy, a battle takes place. Hector kills Protesilaüs, and Achilles kills Cygnus, a Trojan. Cygnus’s father Neptune then transforms him into a swan.

His father Priam mourned him, not knowing that Æsacus, having assumed wings, was still living; Hector, too, with his brothers, made unavailing offerings⁹⁹¹ at a tomb, that bore his name on it. The presence of Paris was wanting, at this mournful office: who, soon after, brought into his country a lengthened war, together with a ravished wife;⁹⁹² and a thousand ships⁹⁹³ uniting together, followed him, and, together with them, the whole body⁹⁹⁴ of the Pelasgian nation. Nor would vengeance have been delayed, had not the raging winds made the seas impassable, and the Bœotian land detained in fishy Aulis the ships ready to depart. Here, when they had prepared a sacrifice to Jupiter, after the manner of their country, as the ancient altar was heated with kindled fires, the Greeks beheld an azure-coloured serpent creep into a plane tree, which was standing near the sacrifice they had begun. There was on the top of the tree a nest of twice four birds, which the serpent seized⁹⁹⁵ together, and the dam as she fluttered around the scene of her loss, and he buried them in his greedy maw. All stood amazed. But Calchas, the son of Thestor, a soothsayer, foreseeing the truth, says, “Rejoice, Pelasgians, we shall conquer. Troy will fall, but the continuance of our toil will be long;” and he allots the nine birds to the years of the war. The serpent, just as he is, coiling around the green branches in the tree, becomes a stone, and, under the form of a serpent, retains that stone form.

His father Priam mourned him, not knowing that Æsacus had grown wings and was still alive. Hector and his brothers also made offerings⁹⁹¹ in vain at a tomb that bore his name on it. Paris was absent from this mournful ceremony. Soon afterward, he brought a long war upon his country, along with a wife he had carried off⁹⁹². A thousand ships⁹⁹³ followed him together, carrying the whole body⁹⁹⁴ of the Pelasgian nation. Vengeance would not have been delayed, but raging winds made the seas impassable. The ships were ready to leave, but the Bœotian land held them at Aulis, amid its fish-filled waters. There the Greeks prepared a sacrifice to Jupiter, as was their custom. As fires burned on the ancient altar, they saw a blue serpent creep into a plane tree nearby. At the top of the tree was a nest containing eight birds. The serpent seized⁹⁹⁵ them all, along with their mother, who fluttered around her lost young. He swallowed them in his greedy jaws. Everyone stood amazed. But Calchas, the son of Thestor and a soothsayer, foresaw the truth. He said, “Rejoice, Pelasgians, we shall conquer. Troy will fall, but our struggle will last a long time.” He assigned the nine birds to the years of the war. As the serpent coiled around the green branches of the tree, he turned to stone. He kept his serpent shape in stone form.

Nereus continued boisterous in the Ionian waves, and did not impel the sails onwards; and there are some who think that Neptune favoured Troy, because he made the walls of the city. But not so the son of Thestor. For neither was he ignorant, nor did he conceal, that the wrath of the virgin Goddess must be appeased by the blood of a virgin. After the public good had prevailed over affection, and the king over the father, and Iphigenia, ready to offer her chaste blood, stood before the altar, while the priests were weeping; the Goddess was appeased, and cast a mist before their eyes, and, amid the service and the hurry of the rites, and the voices of the suppliants, is said to have changed Iphigenia, the Mycenian maiden, for a substituted hind. Wherefore, when the Goddess was appeased by a death which was more fitting, and at the same moment the wrath of Phœbe, and of the sea was past, the thousand ships received the winds astern, and having suffered much, they gained the Phrygian shore.

Nereus continued to churn the Ionian waves, and he sent no wind to drive the ships forward. Some think Neptune favored Troy because he had built the city walls. But the son of Thestor did not think so. He knew that only a virgin’s blood could appease the virgin Goddess’s anger, and he did not hide it. The public good won out over affection, and the king prevailed over the father. Iphigenia stood before the altar, ready to offer her chaste blood, while the priests wept. Then the Goddess was appeased and cast a mist before their eyes. During the ceremony, amid the bustle of the rites and the voices of the supplicants, she is said to have replaced Iphigenia, the Mycenian maiden, with a hind. So the Goddess was appeased by a more fitting death. At the same moment, the anger of Phœbe and the sea passed. The thousand ships caught the wind behind them and, after many hardships, reached the Phrygian shore.

There is a spot in the middle of the world, between the land and the sea, and the regions of heaven, the confines of the threefold universe, whence is beheld whatever anywhere exists, although it may be in far distant regions, and every sound pierces the hollow ears. Of this place Fame is possessed, and chooses for herself a habitation on the top⁹⁹⁶ of a tower, and has added innumerable avenues, and a thousand openings to her house, and has closed the entrances with no gates. Night and day are they open. It is all of sounding brass; it is all resounding, and it reechoes the voice, and repeats what it hears. Within there is no rest, and silence in no part. Nor yet is there a clamour, but the murmur of a low voice, such as is wont to arise from the waves of the sea, if one listens at a distance, or like the sound which the end of the thundering makes when Jupiter has clashed the black clouds together. A crowd occupies the hall; the fickle vulgar come and go; and a thousand rumours, false mixed with true, wander up and down, and circulate confused words. Of these, some fill the empty ears with conversation; some are carrying elsewhere what is told them; the measure of the fiction is ever on the increase, and each fresh narrator adds something to what he has heard. There, is Credulity, there, rash Mistake, and empty Joy, and alarmed Fears, and sudden Sedition, and Whispers of doubtful origin. She sees what things are done in heaven and on the sea, and on the earth; and she pries into the whole universe.

There is a place at the center of the world, between the land, the sea, and the regions of heaven. It lies where the three parts of the universe meet. From there, everything that exists anywhere can be seen, even in distant regions. Every sound reaches its hollow ears. This place belongs to Fame. She makes her home at the top⁹⁹⁶ of a tower, with countless avenues and a thousand openings. No gates close its entrances. They are open night and day. The whole house is made of ringing brass. It resounds, echoes every voice, and repeats what it hears. Inside, there is no rest and nowhere is there silence. Yet there is no clamor, only the murmur of low voices. It is like the sound of sea waves heard from a distance, or the fading rumble of thunder when Jupiter has crashed the black clouds together. A crowd fills the hall, and the fickle masses come and go. A thousand rumors, false mixed with true, wander about and spread confused reports. Some people fill idle ears with talk. Others carry what they hear elsewhere. The stories grow ever larger, and each new teller adds something to what they have heard. There are Credulity, rash Mistake, empty Joy, alarmed Fears, sudden Sedition, and Whispers of doubtful origin. Fame sees what happens in heaven, on the sea, and on earth. She pries into the whole universe.

She has made it known that Grecian ships are on their way, with valiant troops: nor does the enemy appear in arms unlooked for. The Trojans oppose their landing, and defend the shore, and thou, Protesilaüs,⁹⁹⁷ art, by the decrees of fate, the first to fall by the spear of Hector;⁹⁹⁸ and the battles now commenced, and the courageous spirits of the Trojans, and Hector, till then unknown, cost the Greeks dear. Nor do the Phrygians experience at small expense of blood what the Grecian right hand can do. And now the Sigæan shores are red with blood: now Cygnus, the son of Neptune, has slain a thousand men. Now is Achilles pressing on in his chariot, and levelling the Trojan ranks, with the blow of his Peleian spear; and seeking through the lines either Cygnus or Hector, he engages with Cygnus: Hector is reserved for the tenth year. Then animating the horses, having their white necks pressed with the yoke, he directed his chariot against the enemy, and brandishing his quivering spear with his arm, he said, “O youth, whoever thou art, take this consolation in thy death, that thou art slain by the Hæmonian Achilles.”

She has announced that Grecian ships are on their way with brave troops. The armed enemy does not arrive unexpectedly. The Trojans resist their landing and defend the shore. And you, Protesilaüs,⁹⁹⁷ are fated to be the first to fall to Hector’s⁹⁹⁸ spear. The battles now begin, and the courage of the Trojans and Hector, until then unknown, costs the Greeks dearly. The Phrygians also learn at great cost in blood what the Grecian right hand can do. Now the Sigæan shores are red with blood. Now Cygnus, the son of Neptune, has killed a thousand men. Now Achilles drives forward in his chariot, cutting down Trojan ranks with his Peleian spear. He searches the lines for either Cygnus or Hector and meets Cygnus in combat. Hector is reserved for the tenth year. Achilles urges on the horses, their white necks pressed beneath the yoke, and drives his chariot against the enemy. Brandishing his quivering spear, he says, “Young man, whoever you are, take this comfort in death: you are killed by the Hæmonian Achilles.”

Thus far the grandson of Æacus. His heavy lance followed his words. But, although there was no missing in the unerring lance, yet it availed nothing, by the sharpness of its point, thus discharged; and as it only bruised his breast with a blunt stroke, the other said, “Thou son of a Goddess, (for by report have we known of thee beforehand) why art thou surprised that wounds are warded off from me? (for Achilles was surprised); not this helmet that thou seest tawny with the horse’s mane, nor the hollowed shield, the burden of my left arm, are assistant to me; from them ornament alone is sought; for this cause, too, Mars is wont to take up arms. All the assistance of defensive armour shall be removed, and yet I shall come off unhurt. It is something to be born, not of a Nereid,⁹⁹⁹ but of one who rules both Nereus and his daughter, and the whole ocean.”

The grandson of Æacus finished speaking and hurled his heavy lance. Though the unerring lance did not miss, its sharp point did no good when it struck thus. It only bruised his breast with a blunt blow. Then the other said, “You son of a Goddess, we have heard of you before. Why are you surprised that wounds cannot reach me? (For Achilles was surprised.) Neither this helmet, tawny with its horsehair plume, nor the hollow shield on my left arm protects me. They are worn only for decoration. Mars, too, usually takes up arms for this reason. All my protective armor shall be removed, and yet I shall come away unharmed. It means something to be born, not of a Nereid,⁹⁹⁹ but of one who rules Nereus, his daughter, and the whole ocean.”

Thus he spoke; and he hurled against the descendant of Æacus his dart, destined to stick in the rim of his shield; it broke through both the brass and the next nine folds of bull’s hide; but stopping in the tenth circle of the hide, the hero wrenched it out, and again hurled the quivering weapon with a strong hand; again his body was without a wound, and unharmed, nor was a third spear able even to graze Cygnus, unprotected, and exposing himself. Achilles raged no otherwise than as a bull,¹⁰⁰⁰ in the open Circus,¹⁰⁰¹ when with his dreadful horns he butts against the purple-coloured garments, used as the means of provoking him, and perceives that his wounds are evaded. Still, he examines whether the point has chanced to fall from off the spear. It is still adhering to the shaft. “My hand then is weak,” says he, “and it has spent all the strength it had before, upon one man. For decidedly it was strong enough, both when at first I overthrew the walls of Lyrnessus, or when I filled both Tenedos and Eëtionian¹⁰⁰² Thebes with their own blood. Or when Caÿcus¹⁰⁰³ flowed empurpled with the slaughter of its people: and Telephus¹⁰⁰⁴ was twice sensible of the virtue of my spear. Here, too, where so many have been slain, heaps of whom I both have made along this shore, and I now behold, my right hand has proved mighty, and is mighty.”

Thus he spoke, and hurled his dart at the descendant of Æacus. It was destined to stick in the rim of his shield. It pierced the bronze and the next nine layers of bull’s hide, but stopped in the tenth layer of hide. The hero pulled it out and hurled the quivering weapon back with a powerful hand. Again, Cygnus’s body was unwounded and unharmed. A third spear could not even graze him, though he was unprotected and exposed himself. Achilles raged like a bull,¹⁰⁰⁰ in the open Circus,¹⁰⁰¹ that charges with its dreadful horns at the purple garments used to provoke it. The bull sees that its blows are being dodged. Achilles then checked whether the spearhead had somehow fallen off. It was still attached to the shaft. “Then my hand is weak,” he said, “and has spent all the strength it once had on one man. It was certainly strong enough when I first overthrew the walls of Lyrnessus. It was strong enough when I filled both Tenedos and Eëtionian¹⁰⁰² Thebes with their own blood. It was strong enough when Caÿcus¹⁰⁰³ ran purple with the blood of its slaughtered people. And Telephus¹⁰⁰⁴ twice felt the power of my spear. Here, too, so many have been killed. I have made heaps of them along this shore, and I now see them. Here my right hand has proved mighty, and is mighty.”

Thus he spoke; and as if he distrusted what he had done before, he hurled his spear against Menœtes, one of the Lycian multitude,¹⁰⁰⁵ who was standing opposite, and he tore asunder both his coat of mail, and his breast beneath it. He beating the solid earth with his dying head, he drew the same weapon from out of the reeking wound, and said, “This is the hand, this the lance, with which I conquered but now. The same will I use against him; in his case, I pray that the event may prove the same.” Thus he said, and he hurled it at Cygnus, nor did the ashen lance miss him; and, not escaped by him, it resounded on his left shoulder: thence it was repelled, as though by a wall, or a solid rock. Yet Achilles saw Cygnus marked with blood, where he had been struck, and he rejoiced, but in vain. There was no wound; that was the blood of Menœtes.

Thus he spoke. Then, as if he doubted what he had done before, he hurled his spear at Menœtes. Menœtes was one of the Lycian multitude¹⁰⁰⁵ and was standing opposite him. The spear tore through his coat of mail and the breast beneath it. As Menœtes beat the solid earth with his dying head, Achilles pulled the spear from the bloody wound. He said, “This is the hand, and this is the lance, with which I conquered just now. I will use them against him too. In his case, I pray the outcome will be the same.” Then he hurled the ashen lance at Cygnus. It did not miss him, nor did he escape it. It struck his left shoulder with a ringing sound and bounced off, as if from a wall or solid rock. Yet Achilles saw blood where Cygnus had been struck, and he rejoiced, but in vain. There was no wound. The blood was Menœtes’ own.

Then indeed, raging, he leaps headlong from his lofty chariot, and hand to hand, with his gleaming sword striking at his fearless foe, he perceives that the shield and the helmet are pierced with his sword, and that his weapon, too, is blunted upon his hard body. He endures it no longer; and drawing back his shield, he three or four times strikes the face of the hero, and his hollow temples, with the hilt of the sword; and following, he presses onward as the other gives ground, and confounds him, and drives him on, and gives him no respite in his confusion. Horror seizes on him, and darkness swims before his eyes; and as he moves backwards his retreating steps, a stone in the middle of the field stands in his way. Impelled over this, with his breast upwards, Achilles throws Cygnus with great violence, and dashes him¹⁰⁰⁶ to the earth. Then, pressing down his breast with his shield and his hard knees, he draws tight the straps of his helmet; which, fastened beneath his pressed chin, squeeze close his throat, and take away his respiration and the passage of his breath.

Then, raging, Achilles leaps headlong from his high chariot. He attacks his fearless enemy at close range with his gleaming sword. He sees that the sword pierces Cygnus’s shield and helmet, but its blade is blunted against his hard body. Achilles can bear it no longer. Pulling back his shield, he strikes the hero’s face and hollow temples three or four times with the sword’s hilt. As Cygnus gives ground, Achilles follows and presses the attack. He confuses Cygnus, drives him back, and gives him no chance to recover. Horror seizes Cygnus, and darkness swims before his eyes. As he backs away, a stone in the middle of the field blocks his path. Achilles forces Cygnus over it and throws him violently onto his back, dashing him¹⁰⁰⁶ to the ground. Then Achilles presses his shield and hard knees against Cygnus’s chest and pulls his helmet straps tight. Fastened under Cygnus’s compressed chin, the straps squeeze his throat and cut off his breath.

He is preparing to strip his vanquished foe; he sees nothing but his armour, left behind. The God of the Ocean changed his body into a white bird, of which he so lately bore the name.

He prepares to strip his defeated foe, but he sees nothing but the armor left behind. The God of the Ocean had changed his body into a white bird, whose name he had so recently borne.

A truce ensuing, the Grecian chiefs having assembled at a feast, express their surprise at the fact of Cygnus being invulnerable. Nestor, by way of showing a still more surprising instance, relates how the Nymph Cænis, the daughter of Elatus, having yielded to the caresses of Neptune, was transformed by him into a man, and made invulnerable. Cæneus being present at the wedding feast of Pirithoüs, the son of Ixion, where Eurytus was a guest, the latter, being elevated with wine, made an attempt upon Hippodamia, the bride; on which a quarrel arose between the Centaurs and the Lapithæ. After many on both sides had been slain, Cæneus still remained unhurt; on which, the Centaurs having heaped up trunks of trees upon him, he was pressed to death; Neptune then changed his body into a bird.

After a truce was declared, the Grecian chiefs gathered for a feast and expressed surprise that Cygnus was invulnerable. Nestor offered an even more surprising example. He told how the Nymph Cænis, daughter of Elatus, had yielded to Neptune’s caresses. Neptune transformed her into a man and made him invulnerable. Cæneus attended the wedding feast of Pirithoüs, the son of Ixion, where Eurytus was also a guest. Drunk with wine, Eurytus made an attempt on the bride, Hippodamia. A quarrel then broke out between the Centaurs and the Lapithæ. Many on both sides were killed, but Cæneus remained unharmed. The Centaurs then piled tree trunks on him, crushing him to death. Neptune changed his body into a bird.

This toil¹⁰⁰⁷ and this combat brought on a cessation for many days; and both sides rested, laying aside their arms. And while a watchful guard was keeping the Phrygian walls, and a watchful guard was keeping the Argive trenches, a festive day had arrived, on which Achilles, the conqueror of Cygnus, appeased Pallas with the blood of a heifer, adorned with fillets. As soon as he had placed its entrails¹⁰⁰⁸ upon the glowing altars, and the smell, acceptable to the Deities, mounted up to the skies, the sacred rites had their share, the other part was served up at the table. The chiefs reclined on couches, and sated their bodies with roasted flesh,¹⁰⁰⁹ and banished both their cares and their thirst with wine. No harps, no melody of voices,¹⁰¹⁰ no long pipe of boxwood pierced with many a hole, delights them; but in discourse they pass the night, and valour is the subject-matter of their conversation. They relate the combats of the enemy and their own; and often do they delight to recount, in turn, both the dangers that they have encountered and that they have surmounted. For of what else should Achilles speak? or of what, in preference, should they speak before the great Achilles? But especially the recent victory over the conquered Cygnus was the subject of discourse. It seemed wonderful to them all, that the body of the youth was penetrable by no weapon, and was susceptible of no wounds, and that it blunted the steel itself. This same thing, the grandson of Æacus, this, the Greeks wondered at.

This struggle¹⁰⁰⁷ and combat brought fighting to a halt for many days. Both sides laid down their arms and rested. Watchful guards kept the Phrygian walls and the Argive trenches. Then a festival day arrived, and Achilles, the conqueror of Cygnus, offered Pallas a heifer adorned with ribbons. He placed its entrails¹⁰⁰⁸ on the glowing altars, and the smell rose to the skies, pleasing the gods. The sacred rites received their share, and the rest was served at the table. The chiefs reclined on couches, filled themselves with roasted meat,¹⁰⁰⁹ and drove away their cares and thirst with wine. No harps, singing voices,¹⁰¹⁰ or long, many-holed boxwood pipes entertained them. Instead, they spent the night talking about valor. They described their own battles and those of the enemy. In turn, they often enjoyed recounting the dangers they had faced and overcome. For what else should Achilles speak of? And what would they rather speak of before the great Achilles? But above all, they talked about his recent victory over Cygnus. They all marveled that no weapon could pierce the young man’s body or wound him. His body even blunted steel. The grandson of Æacus and the Greeks all wondered at the same thing.

When thus Nestor says to them: “Cygnus has been the only despiser of weapons in your time, and penetrable by no blows. But I myself formerly saw the Perrhæbean¹⁰¹¹ Cæneus bear a thousand blows with his body unhurt; Cæneus the Perrhæbean, I say, who, famous for his achievements, inhabited Othrys. And that this, too, might be the more wondrous in him, he was born a woman.” They are surprised, whoever are present, at the singular nature of this prodigy, and they beg him to tell the story. Among them, Achilles says, “Pray tell us, (for we all have the same desire to hear it,) O eloquent old man,¹⁰¹² the wisdom of our age; who was this Cæneus, and why changed to the opposite sex? in what war, and in the engagements of what contest was he known to thee? by whom was he conquered, if he was conquered by any one?”

Then Nestor says to them: “In your time, only Cygnus has defied weapons, and no blow could pierce him. But I once saw the Perrhæbean¹⁰¹¹ Cæneus endure a thousand blows without injury. Cæneus the Perrhæbean, I say, lived on Othrys and was famous for his deeds. And to make this even more remarkable, he was born a woman.” Everyone present is amazed by this strange wonder and begs Nestor to tell the story. Among them, Achilles says, “Please tell us, for we all want to hear it, eloquent old man,¹⁰¹² wise man of our age. Who was this Cæneus, and why was he changed to the opposite sex? In what war, and in the battles of what conflict, did you know him? Who defeated him, if anyone did?”

Then the aged man replied: “Although tardy old age is a disadvantage to me, and many things which I saw in my early years escape me now, yet I remember most of them; and there is nothing, amid so many transactions of war and peace, that is more firmly fixed in my mind than that circumstance. And if extended age could make any one a witness of many deeds, I have lived two hundred¹⁰¹³ years, and now my third century is being passed by me. Cænis, the daughter of Elatus, was remarkable for her charms; the most beauteous virgin among the Thessalian maids, and one sighed for in vain by the wishes of many wooers through the neighbouring cities, and through thy cities, Achilles, for she was thy countrywoman. Perhaps, too, Peleus would have attempted that alliance; but at that time the marriage of thy mother had either befallen him, or had been promised him. Cænis did not enter into any nuptial ties; and as she was walking along the lonely shore, she suffered violence from the God of the ocean. ’Twas thus that report stated; and when Neptune had experienced the pleasures of this new amour, he said, ‘Be thy wishes secure from all repulse; choose whatever thou mayst desire.’ The same report has related this too; Cænis replied, ‘This mishap makes my desire extreme, that I may not be in a condition to suffer any such thing in future. Grant that I be no longer a woman, and thou wilt have granted me all.’ She spoke these last words with a hoarser tone, and the voice might seem to be that of a man, as indeed it was.

Then the old man replied: “Though old age slows me down, and many things I saw in my youth escape me now, I remember most of them. Of all the events of war and peace, nothing is more firmly fixed in my mind than that event. If a long life allows anyone to witness many deeds, I have lived two hundred¹⁰¹³ years, and am now living through my third century. Cænis, the daughter of Elatus, was remarkably beautiful. She was the most beautiful virgin among the Thessalian maids. Many suitors in the neighboring cities longed for her in vain, as did those in your cities, Achilles, for she was your countrywoman. Perhaps Peleus would have sought to marry her too. But by then, he had either married your mother or been promised her hand. Cænis never married. As she walked along the lonely shore, the God of the ocean forced himself on her. That is what people said. They also said that, after Neptune had enjoyed this new affair, he told her, ‘You can be sure I will refuse you nothing. Choose whatever you wish.’ Cænis replied, ‘This misfortune makes me long for one thing above all. I wish never to be able to suffer anything like it again. Grant that I may no longer be a woman, and you will have granted me everything.’ She spoke these last words in a deeper voice. It could have been a man’s voice, as indeed it was.

“For now the God of the deep ocean had consented to her wish; and had granted moreover that he should not be able to be pierced by any wounds, or to fall by any steel. Exulting in his privilege, the Atracian¹⁰¹⁴ departed; and now spent his time in manly exercises, and roamed over the Peneïan plains. Pirithoüs, the son of the bold Ixion, had married Hippodame,¹⁰¹⁵ and had bidden the cloud-born monsters to sit down at the tables ranged in order, in a cave shaded with trees. The Hæmonian nobles were there; I, too, was there, and the festive palace resounded with the confused rout. Lo! they sing the marriage song, and the halls smoke with the fires;¹⁰¹⁶ the maiden, too, is there, remarkable for her beauty, surrounded by a crowd of matrons and newly married women. We all pronounce Pirithoüs fortunate in her for a wife; an omen which we had well nigh falsified. For thy breast, Eurytus, most savage of the savage Centaurs, is inflamed as much with wine as with seeing the maiden; and drunkenness, redoubled by lust, holds sway over thee. On the sudden the tables being overset, disturb the feast, and the bride is violently dragged away by her seized hair. Eurytus snatches up Hippodame, and the others such as each one fancies, or is able to seize; and there is all the appearance of a captured city. The house rings with the cries of women. Quickly we all rise; and first, Theseus says, ‘What madness, Eurytus, is impelling thee, who, while I still live, dost provoke Pirithoüs, and, in thy ignorance, in one dost injure two?’ And that the valiant hero may not say these things in vain, he pushes them off as they are pressing on, and takes her whom they have seized away from them as they grow furious.

“For now the god of the deep ocean had granted her wish. He had also granted that no wound could pierce him, and that he could not fall by any blade. Delighted with this privilege, the Atracian¹⁰¹⁴ departed. He now spent his time in manly exercises and roamed the Peneïan plains. Pirithoüs, the son of the bold Ixion, had married Hippodame.¹⁰¹⁵ He had invited the cloud-born monsters to sit at tables arranged in a cave shaded by trees. The Hæmonian nobles were there. I, too, was there, and the festive palace rang with the noise of the crowd. Look! They sing the wedding song, and the halls are filled with smoke from the fires.¹⁰¹⁶ The maiden is there too, strikingly beautiful, surrounded by matrons and newly married women. We all declare Pirithoüs fortunate to have her as his wife. We nearly proved that happy prediction false. For you, Eurytus, most savage of the savage Centaurs, are inflamed by wine and by the sight of the maiden. Drunkenness, made twice as strong by lust, rules you. Suddenly, the tables are overturned, throwing the feast into chaos. The bride is seized by her hair and dragged away. Eurytus snatches up Hippodame, and the others seize whomever they desire or can catch. It looks just like a city that has been captured. The house rings with the cries of women. We all quickly rise. Theseus is the first to speak. ‘What madness drives you, Eurytus? While I still live, you dare to attack Pirithoüs. Without knowing it, you wrong two men when you wrong one.’ So that his words will not be empty, the brave hero pushes back the advancing Centaurs. Though they grow furious, he takes the woman they have seized away from them.

“He says nothing in answer, nor, indeed, can he defend such actions by words; but he attacks the face of her protector with insolent hands, and strikes his generous breast. By chance, there is near at hand an ancient bowl, rough with projecting figures, which, huge as it is, the son of Ægeus, himself huger still, takes up and hurls full in his face. He, vomiting both from his wounds and his mouth clots of blood,¹⁰¹⁷ and brains and wine together, lying on his back, kicks on the soaking sand. The double-limbed¹⁰¹⁸ Centaurs are inflamed at the death of their brother; and all vying, with one voice exclaim, ‘To arms! to arms!’ Wine gives them courage, and, in the first onset, cups hurled are flying about, and shattered casks¹⁰¹⁹ and hollow cauldrons; things before adapted for a banquet, now for war and slaughter. First, the son of Ophion, Amycus, did not hesitate to spoil the interior of the house of its ornaments; and first, from the shrine he tore up a chandelier,¹⁰²⁰ thick set with blazing lamps; and lifting it on high, like him who attempts to break the white neck of the bull with sacrificial axe, he dashed it against the forehead of Celadon the Lapithean, and left his skull mashed into his face, no longer to be recognized. His eyes started out, and the bones of his face being dashed to pieces, his nose was driven back, and was fixed in the middle of his palate. Him, Belates the Pellæan, having torn away the foot of a maple table, laid flat on the ground, with his chin sunk upon his breast, and vomiting forth his teeth mixed with blood; and sent him, by a twofold wound, to the shades of Tartarus.

“He says nothing in reply. Indeed, he cannot defend his actions with words. Instead, he boldly strikes her protector’s face and his generous breast. By chance, an ancient bowl stands nearby, its surface rough with raised figures. Huge as the bowl is, the son of Ægeus, himself huger still, picks it up and hurls it full into the man’s face. The man lies on his back, kicking at the soaked sand. From his wounds and mouth he vomits clots of blood,¹⁰¹⁷ mixed with brains and wine. The double-limbed¹⁰¹⁸ Centaurs are enraged by their brother’s death. All compete to shout with one voice, ‘To arms! To arms!’ Wine gives them courage. In the first rush, cups fly through the air, along with shattered casks¹⁰¹⁹ and hollow cauldrons. These things, once suited to a banquet, now serve war and slaughter. First, Amycus, the son of Ophion, does not hesitate to strip the house of its ornaments. He begins by tearing a chandelier¹⁰²⁰ from the shrine. It is covered with blazing lamps. He lifts it high, like a man trying to break a bull’s white neck with a sacrificial axe. Then he smashes it against the forehead of Celadon the Lapithean. His skull is crushed into his face, leaving him unrecognizable. His eyes burst from their sockets, and his facial bones shatter. His nose is driven back and lodged in the middle of his palate. Belates the Pellæan tears a leg from a maple table and knocks Amycus flat on the ground. Amycus’s chin sinks onto his chest, and he vomits teeth mixed with blood. With a second blow, Belates sends him to the shades of Tartarus.

“As Gryneus stood next, looking at the smoking altar with a grim look, he said, ‘And why do we not make use of this?’ and then he raised an immense altar, together with its fire; and hurled it into the midst of the throng of the Lapithæ, and struck down two of them, Broteus and Orius. The mother of Orius was Mycale, who was known by her incantations to have often drawn down the horns of the struggling moon. On this Exadius says, ‘Thou shalt not go unpunished, if only the opportunity of getting a weapon is given me;’ and, as his weapon, he wields the antlers of a votive stag,¹⁰²¹ which were upon a lofty pine-tree. With the double branches of these, Gryneus is pierced through the eyes, and has those eyes scooped out. A part of them adheres to the antlers, a part runs down his beard, and hangs down clotted with gore. Lo! Rhœtus snatches up an immense flaming brand, from the middle of the altar, and on the right side breaks through the temples of Charaxus, covered with yellow hair. His locks, seized by the violent flames, burn like dry corn, and the blood seared in the wound emits a terrific noise in its hissing, such as the iron glowing in the flames is often wont to emit, which, when the smith has drawn it out with the crooked pincers, he plunges into the trough; whereon it whizzes, and, sinking in the bubbling water, hisses. Wounded, he shakes the devouring fire from his locks, and takes upon his shoulders the threshold, torn up out of the ground, a whole waggon-load, which its very weight hinders him from throwing full against the foe. The stony mass, too, bears down Cometes, a friend, who is standing at a short distance; nor does Rhœtus then restrain his joy, and he says, ‘In such manner do I pray that the rest of the throng of thy party may be brave;’ and then he increases the wound, redoubled with the half-burnt stake, and three or four times he breaks the sutures of his head with heavy blows, and its bones sink within the oozing brains.

“As Gryneus stood nearby, he looked grimly at the smoking altar and said, ‘And why don’t we use this?’ He then lifted the enormous altar, fire and all, and hurled it into the crowd of Lapithæ. It struck down two of them, Broteus and Orius. Orius’s mother was Mycale, whose incantations were known to have often drawn down the horns of the struggling moon. On this Exadius said, ‘You won’t go unpunished, if I can only find a weapon.’ He took the antlers of a votive stag,¹⁰²¹ which hung on a tall pine tree, and used them as a weapon. The two branches of the antlers pierced Gryneus’s eyes and scooped them out. Part of his eyes stuck to the antlers. The rest ran down his beard and hung there, clotted with blood. Then Rhœtus snatched a huge flaming brand from the middle of the altar. He smashed it into the right temple of Charaxus, whose hair was yellow. The fierce flames caught his hair, and it burned like dry corn. Blood seared in the wound gave a terrible hiss. It sounded like glowing iron when a smith pulls it from the fire with curved tongs and plunges it into a trough. The iron whizzes and sinks into the bubbling water, hissing. Wounded, Charaxus shook the devouring fire from his hair. He tore the stone threshold from the ground and lifted it onto his shoulders. It was a whole wagonload, and its weight kept him from throwing it straight at his enemy. The stone mass struck down his friend Cometes, who was standing nearby. Rhœtus made no effort to hide his joy. He said, ‘I pray that everyone else on your side will be brave in the same way.’ Then he struck Charaxus again with the half-burned stake, making his wound worse. Three or four heavy blows broke the seams of his skull, and its bones sank into his oozing brains.

“Victorious, he passes on to Evagrus, and Corythus, and Dryas; of which number, when Corythus, having his cheeks covered¹⁰²² with their first down, has fallen, Evagrus says, ‘What glory has been acquired by thee, in killing a boy?’ Rhœtus permits him to say no more, and fiercely thrusts the glowing flames into the open mouth of the hero, as he is speaking, and through the mouth into the breast. Thee, too, cruel Dryas, he pursues, whirling the fire around his head, but the same issue does not await thee as well. Thou piercest him with a stake burnt at the end, while triumphing in the success of an uninterrupted slaughter, in the spot where the neck is united to the shoulder. Rhœtus groans aloud, and with difficulty wrenches the stake out of the hard bone, and, drenched in his own blood, he flies. Orneus flies, too, and Lycabas, and Medon, wounded in his right shoulder-blade, and Thaumas with Pisenor; Mermerus, too, who lately excelled all in speed of foot, but now goes more slowly from the wound he has received; Pholus, too, and Melaneus, and Abas a hunter of boars, and Astylos the augur, who has in vain dissuaded his own party from this warfare. He also says to Nessus,¹⁰²³ as he dreads the wounds, ‘Fly not! for thou shalt be reserved for the bow of Hercules.’ But Eurynomus and Lycidas, and Areos, and Imbreus did not escape death, all of whom the right hand of Dryas pierced right through. Thou, too, Crenæus, didst receive a wound in front,¹⁰²⁴ although thou didst turn thy back in flight; for looking back, thou didst receive the fatal steel between thy two eyes, where the nose is joined to the lower part of the forehead. In the midst of so much noise, Aphidas was lying fast asleep from the wine which he had drunk incessantly, and was not aroused, and in his languid hand was grasping the mixed bowl, stretched at full length upon the shaggy skin of a bear of Ossa. Soon as Phorbas beheld him from afar, wielding no arms, he inserted his fingers in the strap of his lance,¹⁰²⁵ and said, ‘Drink thy wine mingled with the water of Styx;’ and, delaying no longer, he hurled his javelin against the youth, and the ash pointed with steel was driven into his neck, as, by chance, he lay there on his back. His death happened without his being sensible of it; and the blood flowed from his full throat, both upon the couch and into the bowl itself.

“Victorious, he moves on to Evagrus, Corythus, and Dryas. Corythus, one of their number, has fallen. His cheeks are covered¹⁰²² with their first down. Evagrus says, ‘What glory have you gained by killing a boy?’ Rhœtus lets him say no more. As the hero speaks, Rhœtus fiercely thrusts the glowing flames into his open mouth and down into his chest. He pursues you too, cruel Dryas, whirling the fire around his head. But you do not meet the same fate. As Rhœtus celebrates his success in killing without pause, you strike him with a stake burnt at the end. It pierces him where his neck joins his shoulder. Rhœtus groans aloud and, with difficulty, pulls the stake from the hard bone. Drenched in his own blood, he flees. Orneus flees too, along with Lycabas, Medon, who is wounded in his right shoulder blade, Thaumas, and Pisenor. Mermerus flees too. Until recently he was the fastest of all, but now his wound slows him down. Pholus, Melaneus, Abas the boar hunter, and Astylos the augur also flee. Astylos had tried in vain to dissuade his own side from this battle. He also says to Nessus,¹⁰²³ who fears being wounded, ‘Do not flee! For you will be saved for the bow of Hercules.’ But Eurynomus, Lycidas, Areos, and Imbreus did not escape death. Dryas pierced all of them through with his right hand. You too, Crenæus, were wounded in front,¹⁰²⁴ although you turned your back in flight. For when you looked back, the deadly blade struck you between the eyes, where the nose joins the lower forehead. Amid all the noise, Aphidas lay fast asleep, overcome by the wine he had drunk without pause. Nothing woke him. He lay stretched out on the shaggy skin of a bear from Ossa, loosely holding the bowl of mixed wine. Phorbas saw him from a distance, carrying no weapons. He slipped his fingers into the strap of his lance¹⁰²⁵ and said, ‘Drink your wine mixed with the water of Styx.’ Without further delay, he hurled his javelin at the youth. The steel-tipped ash shaft struck his neck as he happened to lie there on his back. He died without feeling it. Blood flowed from his full throat onto the couch and into the bowl itself.”

“I saw Petræus endeavouring to tear up an acorn-bearing oak from the earth; and, as he was grasping it in his embrace, and was shaking it on this side and that, and was moving about the loosened tree, the lance of Pirithoüs hurled at the ribs of Petræus, transfixed his struggling breast together with the tough oak. They said, too, that Lycus fell by the valour of Pirithoüs, and that Chromis fell by the hand of Pirithoüs. But each of them gave less glory to the conqueror, than Dictys and Helops gave. Helops was transfixed by the javelin, which passed right through his temples, and, hurled from the right side, penetrated to his left ear. Dictys, slipping from the steep point of a rock, while, in his fear, he is flying from the pursuing son of Ixion, falls down headlong, and, by the weight of his body, breaks a huge ash tree, and spits his own entrails upon it, thus broken. Aphareus advances as his avenger, and endeavours to hurl a stone torn away from the mountain. As he is endeavouring to do so, the son of Ægeus attacks him with an oaken club, and breaks the huge bones of his arm, and has neither leisure, nor, indeed, does he care to put his useless body to death; and he leaps upon the back of the tall Bianor, not used to bear¹⁰²⁶ any other than himself; and he fixes his knees in his ribs, and holding his long hair, seized with his left hand, shatters his face, and his threatening features, and his very hard temples, with the knotty oak. With his oak, too, he levels Nedymnus, and Lycotas the darter, and Hippasus having his breast covered with his flowing beard, and Ripheus, who towered above the topmost woods, and Tereus, who used to carry home the bears, caught in the Hæmonian mountains, alive and raging.

“I saw Petræus trying to pull an acorn-bearing oak from the ground. He embraced the tree, shaking it back and forth and moving it in the loosened earth. And as he struggled, Pirithoüs hurled a lance at his ribs. It pierced his breast and the tough oak together. They said too that Lycus fell to the valor of Pirithoüs, and that Chromis fell by the hand of Pirithoüs. But each of them gave the victor less glory than Dictys and Helops did. A javelin struck Helops in the right temple, passed through his head, and came out at his left ear. Dictys fled in fear from the pursuing son of Ixion. He slipped from a steep rock and fell headfirst. His weight broke a huge ash tree, and his entrails were impaled on its broken trunk. Aphareus came forward to avenge him and tried to hurl a stone torn from the mountain. As he tried to do so, the son of Ægeus attacked him with an oak club. He broke the great bones of Aphareus’s arm. He had neither the time nor, indeed, the desire to kill his helpless foe. Then he leaped onto the back of the tall Bianor, who was not used to bearing¹⁰²⁶ anyone but himself. He drove his knees into Bianor’s ribs and seized his long hair with his left hand. With the knotted oak club, he shattered Bianor’s face, his threatening features, and his very hard temples. With his oak club too, he brought down Nedymnus, Lycotas the javelin thrower, and Hippasus, whose flowing beard covered his chest. He also brought down Ripheus, who towered above the tallest trees, and Tereus. Tereus used to catch bears in the Hæmonian mountains and carry them home alive and raging.

“Demoleon could not any longer endure Theseus enjoying this success in the combat, and he tried with vast efforts to tear up from the thick-set wood an aged pine; because he could not effect this, he hurled it, broken short, against his foe. But Theseus withdrew afar from the approaching missile, through the warning of Pallas; so at least he himself wished it to be thought. Yet the tree did not fall without effect: for it struck off from the throat of the tall Crantor, both his breast and his left shoulder. He, Achilles, had been the armour-bearer of thy father: him Amyntor, king of the Dolopians,¹⁰²⁷ when conquered in war, had given to the son of Æacus, as a pledge and confirmation of peace. When Peleus saw him at a distance, mangled with a foul wound, he said, ‘Accept however, Crantor, most beloved of youths, this sacrifice;’ and, with a strong arm, and energy of intention, he hurled his ashen lance against Demoleon, which broke through the enclosures of his ribs, and quivered, sticking amid the bones. He draws out with his hand the shaft without the point; even that follows, with much difficulty; the point is retained within his lungs. The very pain gives vigour to his resolution; though wounded, he rears against the enemy, and tramples upon the hero with his horse’s feet. The other receives the re-echoing strokes upon his helmet and his shield, and defends his shoulders, and holds his arms extended before him, and through the shoulder-blades he pierces two breasts¹⁰²⁸ at one stroke. But first, from afar, he had consigned to death Phlegræus, and Hyles; in closer combat, Hiphinoüs and Clanis. To these is added Dorylas, who had his temples covered with a wolf’s skin, and the real horns of oxen reddened with much blood, that performed the duty of a cruel weapon.

“Demoleon could no longer bear to see Theseus succeed in battle. With great effort, he tried to tear an old pine from the dense forest. When he could not uproot it, he broke it off and hurled it at his enemy. But Theseus moved far away from the approaching tree, warned by Pallas. That was what he wanted people to believe, at least. Yet the tree did not fall harmlessly. It struck the tall Crantor, tearing away his chest and left shoulder from his neck. Crantor, Achilles, had been your father’s armor bearer. Amyntor, king of the Dolopians,¹⁰²⁷ had given him to the son of Æacus as a pledge and guarantee of peace after his defeat in war. When Peleus saw Crantor in the distance, mangled by the terrible wound, he said, ‘Accept this sacrifice, Crantor, dearest of youths.’ With a strong arm and determined aim, he hurled his ashwood spear at Demoleon. It broke through his ribs and quivered among the bones. Demoleon pulled out the shaft with his hand, leaving the point behind. Even the shaft came out only with great difficulty, while the point remained in his lungs. The pain itself strengthened his resolve. Though wounded, he reared up against his enemy and trampled the hero with his horse’s hooves. Peleus took the echoing blows on his helmet and shield, guarding his shoulders with his arms held out before him. Then, with one stroke through the shoulder blades, he pierced two breasts.¹⁰²⁸ But before this, Peleus had killed Phlegræus and Hyles from a distance, and Hiphinoüs and Clanis in close combat. He also killed Dorylas, whose temples were covered with a wolf’s skin. Dorylas used real ox horns, red with much blood, as cruel weapons.

“To him I said, for courage gave me strength, ‘Behold, how much thy horns are inferior to my steel;’ and then I threw my javelin. When he could not avoid this, he held up his right hand before his forehead, about to receive the blow; and to his forehead his hand was pinned. A shout arose; but Peleus struck him delaying, and overpowered by the painful wound, (for he was standing next to him) with his sword beneath the middle of his belly. He leaped forth, and fiercely dragged his own bowels on the ground, and trod on them thus dragged, and burst them thus trodden; and he entangled his legs, as well in them, and fell down, with his belly emptied of its inner parts. Nor did thy beauty, Cyllarus,¹⁰²⁹ save thee while fighting, if only we allow beauty to that monstrous nature of thine. His beard was beginning to grow; the colour of his beard was that of gold; and golden-coloured hair was hanging from his shoulders to the middle of his shoulder-blades. In his face there was a pleasing briskness; his neck, and his shoulders, and his hands, and his breast were resembling the applauded statues of the artists, and so in those parts in which he was a man; nor was the shape of the horse beneath that shape, faulty and inferior to that of the man. Give him but the neck and the head of a horse, and he would be worthy of Castor. So fit is his back to be sat upon, so stands his breast erect with muscle; he is all over blacker than black pitch; yet his tail is white; the colour, too, of his legs is white. Many a female of his own kind longed for him; but Hylonome alone gained him, than whom no female more handsome lived in the lofty woods, among the half beasts. She alone attaches Cyllarus, both by her blandishments, and by loving, and by confessing that she loves him. Her care, too, of her person is as great as can be in those limbs: so that her hair is smoothed with a comb; so that she now decks herself with rosemary, now with violets or roses, and sometimes she wears white lilies; and twice a day she washes her face with streams that fall from the height of the Pagasæan wood; and twice she dips her body in the stream: and she throws over her shoulder or her left side no skins but what are becoming, and are those of choice beasts.

“I found the courage to say to him, ‘See how much weaker your horns are than my steel.’ Then I threw my javelin. He could not dodge it, so he raised his right hand in front of his forehead to take the blow. And his hand was pinned to his forehead. A shout went up. But Peleus, who stood beside him, struck him with his sword below the middle of his belly. The man had hesitated, overwhelmed by his painful wound. He leaped forward, dragging his own bowels fiercely across the ground. He stepped on them as they dragged and burst them underfoot. His legs became tangled in them, and he fell with his belly emptied of its insides. Nor did your beauty, Cyllarus,¹⁰²⁹ save you in battle, if we can call your monstrous form beautiful. His golden beard was just beginning to grow. Golden hair fell from his shoulders to the middle of his shoulder blades. His face had a pleasing liveliness. His neck, shoulders, hands, and chest resembled the admired statues made by artists. So it was with all his human parts. The horse's body below them was no less well formed than the man's. Give him only a horse's neck and head, and he would be worthy of Castor. His back was so well suited for riding, and his chest stood erect with muscle. He was blacker all over than black pitch, yet his tail and legs were white. Many females of his own kind desired him, but Hylonome alone won him. No female among the half beasts of the lofty woods was more beautiful than she. She alone holds Cyllarus with her caresses, her love, and her confession of that love. She takes as much care of her appearance as her limbs allow. She smooths her hair with a comb. Now she adorns herself with rosemary, now with violets or roses, and sometimes she wears white lilies. Twice a day she washes her face in streams that fall from the heights of the Pagasæan wood. And twice she dips her body in the stream. She wears only flattering skins from choice beasts over her shoulder or left side.

“Their love was equal: together they wandered upon the mountains; together they entered the caves; and then, too, together had they entered the Lapithæan house; together were they waging the fierce warfare. The author of the deed is unknown: but a javelin came from the left side, and pierced thee, Cyllarus, below the spot where the breast is joined to the neck. The heart, being pierced with a small wound, grew cold, together with the whole body, after the weapon was drawn out. Immediately, Hylonome receives his dying limbs, and cherishes the wound, by laying her hand on it, and places her mouth on his, and strives to stop the fleeting life. When she sees him dead, having uttered what the clamour hinders from reaching my ears, she falls upon the weapon that has pierced him, and as she dies, embraces her husband. He, too, now stands before my eyes, Phæocomes, namely, who had bound six lions’ skins together with connecting knots; covered all over, both horse and man. He, having discharged the trunk of a tree, which two yokes of oxen joined together could hardly have moved, battered the son of Phonolenus on the top of his head. The very broad round form of his skull was broken; and through his mouth, and through his hollow nostrils, and his eyes, and his ears, his softened brains poured down; just as curdled milk is wont through the oaken twigs, or as any liquor flows under the weight of a well-pierced sieve, and is squeezed out thick through the numerous holes. But I, while he was preparing to strip him of his arms as he lay, (this thy sire knows,) plunged my sword into the lower part of his belly, as he was spoiling him. Chthonius, too, and Teleboas, lay pierced by my sword. The former was bearing a two-forked bough as his weapon, the latter a javelin; with his javelin he gave me a wound. You see the marks; look! the old scar is still visible.

“Their love was equal. Together they wandered the mountains and entered the caves. Together they also entered the Lapithæan house, and together they fought in the fierce battle. The author of the deed is unknown. But a javelin came from the left and pierced you, Cyllarus, just below the spot where your chest meets your neck. It made a small wound in your heart. After the weapon was drawn out, your heart grew cold, along with your whole body. Hylonome immediately caught his dying body and pressed her hand against the wound. She put her mouth to his and tried to keep his life from slipping away. When she saw that he was dead, she spoke, but the noise kept me from hearing her words. Then she fell on the weapon that had pierced him and embraced her husband as she died. He, too, now stands before my eyes, Phæocomes, namely. He had tied six lions’ skins together, covering both his horse and human parts. He hurled a tree trunk that two pairs of oxen yoked together could hardly have moved. It struck the son of Phonolenus on the top of his head. His broad, round skull shattered, and his softened brains poured from his mouth, hollow nostrils, eyes, and ears. They flowed like curdled milk through oak twigs, or like any liquid pressed through the many holes of a sieve. But as Phæocomes prepared to strip the dead man of his armor, I plunged my sword into his lower belly. Your father knows this. Chthonius and Teleboas also fell, pierced by my sword. Chthonius carried a forked branch as his weapon, while Teleboas carried a javelin. He wounded me with his javelin. You can see the marks. Look! The old scar is still visible.”

“Then ought I¹⁰³⁰ to have been sent to the taking of Troy; then I might, if not have overcome, still have stayed the arms of the mighty Hector. But at that time Hector was not existing, or but a boy; and now my age is failing. Why tell thee of Periphas, the conqueror of the two-formed Pyretus? Why of Ampyx, who fixed his cornel-wood spear, without a point, full in the face of the four-footed Oëclus? Macareus, struck down the Pelethronian¹⁰³¹ Erigdupus,¹⁰³² by driving a crowbar into his breast. I remember, too, that a hunting spear, hurled by the hand of Nessus, was buried in the groin of Cymelus. And do not believe that Mopsus,¹⁰³³ the son of Ampycus, only foretold things to come; a two-formed monster was slain by Mopsus, darting at him, and Odites in vain attempted to speak, his tongue being nailed to his chin, and his chin to his throat. Cæneus had put five to death, Stiphelus, and Bromus, and Antimachus, and Helimus, and Pyracmos, wielding the axe. I do not remember their respective wounds, but I marked their numbers, and their names. Latreus, most huge both in his limbs and his body, sallied forth, armed with the spoils of Emathian¹⁰³⁴ Halesus, whom he had consigned to death. His age was between that of a youth, and an old man; his vigour that of a youth; grey hairs variegated his temples. Conspicuous by his buckler, and his helmet, and his Macedonian pike;¹⁰³⁵ and turning his face towards both sides, he brandished his arms, and rode in one same round, and vaunting, poured forth thus many words into the yielding air:—

“Then I¹⁰³⁰ should have been sent to take Troy. If I could not have defeated the mighty Hector, I might still have held him back. But Hector did not exist then, or was only a boy, and now old age is weakening me. Why tell you of Periphas, who defeated the two-formed Pyretus? Why tell you of Ampyx, who drove his pointless cornel-wood spear into the face of four-footed Oëclus? Macareus struck down the Pelethronian¹⁰³¹ Erigdupus¹⁰³² by driving a crowbar into his chest. I remember, too, that Nessus hurled a hunting spear that buried itself in Cymelus’s groin. And do not believe that Mopsus,¹⁰³³ the son of Ampycus, only foretold the future. Mopsus killed a two-formed monster as it rushed at him. Odites tried in vain to speak, his tongue nailed to his chin, and his chin to his throat. Cæneus had killed five: Stiphelus, Bromus, Antimachus, Helimus, and Pyracmos, who wielded an axe. I do not remember their individual wounds, but I noted their number and their names. Latreus came forward, huge in both limb and body. He wore the spoils of Emathian¹⁰³⁴ Halesus, whom he had killed. He was between youth and old age, with a young man’s strength and gray hair at his temples. He stood out with his shield, helmet, and Macedonian pike.¹⁰³⁵ Turning his face from side to side, he brandished his weapons and rode round and round. Then he boasted, pouring these words into the yielding air:

“‘And shall I put up with thee, too, Cænis? for to me thou shalt ever be a woman, to me always Cænis. Does not thy natal origin lower thy spirit? And does it not occur to thy mind for what foul deed thou didst get thy reward, and at what price the false resemblance to a man? Consider both what thou wast born, as well as what thou hast submitted to: go, and take up a distaff together with thy baskets, and twist the threads¹⁰³⁶ with thy thumb; leave warfare to men.’ As he is vaunting in such terms, Cæneus pierces his side, stretched in running, with a lance hurled at him, just where the man is joined to the horse. He raves with pain, and strikes at the exposed face of the Phylleian ¹⁰³⁷ youth with his pike. It bounds back no otherwise than hail from the roof of a house; or than if any one were to beat a hollow drum with a little pebble. Hand to hand he encounters him, and strives to plunge his sword into his tough side; but the parts are impervious to his sword. ‘Yet,’ says he, ‘thou shalt not escape me; with the middle of the sword shalt thou be slain, since the point is blunt;’ and then he slants the sword against his side, and grasps his stomach with his long right arm. The blow produces an echo, as on a body of marble when struck; and the shivered blade flies different ways, upon striking his neck.

“‘Must I put up with you too, Cænis? To me, you will always be a woman, always Cænis. Doesn’t the way you were born humble your spirit? Don’t you remember what foul deed earned you your reward, and the price of your false appearance as a man? Think of what you were born and what you submitted to. Go, take up a distaff and your baskets, and twist the threads¹⁰³⁶ with your thumb. Leave warfare to men.’ As he boasts like this, Cæneus hurls a lance at him. It pierces his side, stretched as he runs, just where the man joins the horse. He rages with pain and strikes the exposed face of the Phylleian ¹⁰³⁷ youth with his pike. The pike bounces back, like hail from a roof, or like a small pebble striking a hollow drum. He meets Cæneus hand to hand and tries to plunge his sword into his tough side, but the sword cannot pierce it. ‘Still,’ he says, ‘you will not escape me. Since the point is blunt, I will kill you with the middle of the sword.’ Then he strikes at his side with the sword held sideways and grabs his stomach with his long right arm. The blow echoes as if it had struck marble. When the blade strikes his neck, it shatters and flies in every direction.

“After Cæneus had enough exposed his unhurt limbs to him in his amazement, ‘Come now,’ said he, ‘let us try thy body with my steel;’ and up to the hilt he plunged his fatal sword into his shoulder-blade, and extended his hand unseen into his entrails, and worked it about, and in the wound made a fresh wound. Lo! the double-limbed monsters, enraged, rush on in an impetuous manner, and all of them hurl and thrust their weapons at him alone. Their weapons fall blunted. Unstabbed and bloodless the Elateïan Cæneus remains from each blow. This strange thing makes them astonished. ‘Oh great disgrace!’ cries Monychus; ‘a whole people, we are overcome by one, and that hardly a man; although, indeed, he is a man; and we by our dastardly actions, are what he once was. What signify our huge limbs? What our twofold strength? What that our twofold nature has united in us the stoutest animals in existence? I neither believe that we are born of a Goddess for our mother, nor of Ixion, who was so great a person, that he conceived hopes of even the supreme Juno. By a half male foe are we baffled. Heap upon him stones and beams, and entire mountains, and dash out his long-lived breath, by throwing whole woods upon him. Let a whole wood press on his jaws; and weight shall be in the place of wounds.’

“After Cæneus had let him marvel long enough at his unhurt body, he said, ‘Come now, let us test your body with my sword.’ He plunged his deadly sword into the creature’s shoulder blade, right up to the hilt. His hand disappeared into the creature’s entrails as he worked the sword around, making a fresh wound inside the first. Look! The enraged, double-limbed monsters rush at Cæneus. All of them hurl and thrust their weapons at him alone. Their weapons fall away blunted. The Elateïan Cæneus remains unpierced and bloodless after every blow. This strange sight astonishes them. ‘Oh, what a disgrace!’ cries Monychus. ‘A whole people, defeated by one, and hardly a man at that. Though, in truth, he is a man, and our cowardly actions make us what he once was. What good are our huge limbs and our double strength? What good is our double nature, which unites the strongest animals alive in us? I cannot believe that our mother was a Goddess, or that our father was Ixion. He was so great that he dared hope to win even supreme Juno. A half-male enemy has defeated us. Heap stones, beams, and entire mountains on him. Crush the breath from his long-lived body by throwing whole woods on him. Let a whole wood press on his jaws. Let weight take the place of wounds.’

“Thus he said; and by chance having got a tree, thrown down by the power of the boisterous South wind, he threw it against the powerful foe: and he was an example to the rest; and in a short time, Othrys, thou wast bare of trees, and Pelion had no shades. Overwhelmed by this huge heap, Cæneus swelters beneath the weight of the trees, and bears on his brawny shoulders the piled-up oaks. But after the load has increased upon his face and his head, and his breath has no air to draw; at one moment he faints, at another he endeavours, in vain, to raise himself into the open air, and to throw off the wood cast upon him: and sometimes he moves it. Just as lo! we see, if lofty Ida is convulsed with earthquakes. The event is doubtful. Some gave out that his body was hurled to roomy Tartarus by the weight of the wood. The son of Ampycus denied this, and saw go forth into the liquid air, from amid the pile, a bird with tawny wings; which then was beheld by me for the first time, then, too, for the last. When Mopsus saw it with gentle flight surveying his camp, and making a noise around it with a vast clamour, following him both with his eyes and his feelings, he said, ‘Hail! thou glory of the Lapithæan race, once the greatest of men, but now the only bird of thy kind, Cæneus.’ This thing was credited from its assertor. Grief added resentment, and we bore it with disgust, that one was overpowered by foes so many. Nor did we cease to exercise our weapons, in shedding their blood, before a part of them was put to death, and flight and the night dispersed the rest.”

“Thus he spoke. By chance, he found a tree that the fierce South wind had blown down. He threw it at his powerful enemy, setting an example for the rest. Soon, Othrys, you were bare of trees, and Pelion had no shade. Buried beneath this huge heap, Cæneus sweltered under the weight of the trees. He bore the piled-up oaks on his muscular shoulders. But the load grew over his face and head, leaving him no air to breathe. At one moment he fainted. At another, he tried in vain to rise into the open air and throw off the wood piled upon him. Sometimes he moved it. It was like seeing lofty Ida shaken by earthquakes. What happened next is uncertain. Some said the weight of the wood hurled his body down to spacious Tartarus. The son of Ampycus denied this. He saw a bird with tawny wings emerge from the pile and rise into the clear air. That was the first and last time I saw it. Mopsus saw the bird circle his camp in gentle flight, crying out loudly around it. He followed it with his eyes and his heart, and said, ‘Hail, Cæneus! You are the glory of the Lapithæan race, once the greatest of men, but now the only bird of your kind.’ We believed this because Mopsus said it. Our grief turned to anger. We were outraged that so many enemies had overcome one man. We did not stop using our weapons and shedding their blood until some were dead and flight and night had scattered the rest.”

Periclymenus, the brother of Nestor, who has received from Neptune the power of transforming himself, is changed into an eagle, in a combat with Hercules; and in his flight is shot by him with an arrow. Neptune prays Apollo to avenge the death of Cygnus: because the Destinies will not permit him to do so himself. Apollo enters the Trojan camp in disguise, and directs the arrow which Paris aims at Achilles; who is mortally wounded in the heel, the only vulnerable part of his body.

Periclymenus, Nestor's brother, has received the power to change his form from Neptune. In a fight with Hercules, he turns into an eagle. As he flies away, Hercules shoots him with an arrow. Neptune asks Apollo to avenge Cygnus's death because the Destinies will not allow Neptune to do so himself. Apollo enters the Trojan camp in disguise and guides the arrow Paris aims at Achilles. The arrow mortally wounds Achilles in the heel, the only vulnerable part of his body.

As the Pylian related this fight between the Lapithæ and the Centaurs, but half human, Tlepolemus¹⁰³⁸ could not endure his sorrow for Alcides being passed by with silent lips, and said, “It is strange, old man, that thou shouldst have a forgetfulness of the exploits of Hercules; at least, my father himself used often to relate to me, that these cloud-begotten monsters were conquered by him.” The Pylian, sad at this, said, “Why dost thou force me to call to mind my misfortunes, and to rip up my sorrows, concealed beneath years, and to confess my hatred of, and disgust at, thy father? He, indeed, ye Gods! performed things beyond all belief, and filled the world with his services; which I could rather wish could be denied; but we are in the habit of praising neither Deiphobus nor Polydamas,¹⁰³⁹ nor Hector himself: for who would commend an enemy? That father of thine once overthrew the walls of Messene, and demolished guiltless cities, Elis and Pylos, and carried the sword and flames into my abode. And, that I may say nothing of others whom he slew, we were twice six sons of Neleus, goodly youths; the twice six fell by the might of Hercules, myself alone excepted. And that the others were vanquished might have been endured; but the death of Periclymenus is wonderful; to whom Neptune, the founder of the Neleian family, had granted to be able to assume whatever shapes he might choose, and again, when assumed, to lay them aside. He, after he had in vain been turned into all other shapes, was turned into the form of the bird that is wont to carry the lightnings in his crooked talons, the most acceptable to the king of the Gods. Using the strength of that bird, his wings, and his crooked bill, together with his hooked talons, he tore the face of the hero. The Tirynthian hero aims at him his bow, too unerring, and hits him, as he moves his limbs aloft amid the clouds, and hovering in the air, just where the wing is joined to the side.

As the Pylian described the fight between the Lapithæ and the Centaurs, who were but half human, Tlepolemus¹⁰³⁸ could not bear to hear nothing of Alcides. He said, “It is strange, old man, that you should forget the exploits of Hercules. My own father often told me that he had defeated these cloud-born monsters.” Saddened, the Pylian said, “Why do you force me to recall my misfortunes and reopen sorrows buried for years? Why must I confess my hatred and disgust for your father? He did, indeed, ye Gods, perform deeds beyond belief and render services throughout the world. I wish I could deny it. But we do not praise Deiphobus or Polydamas,¹⁰³⁹ or even Hector himself. Who would praise an enemy? “Your father once destroyed the walls of Messene and demolished the innocent cities of Elis and Pylos. He brought fire and sword to my home. I will say nothing of the others he killed. But there were twelve of us, the sons of Neleus, all fine young men. All twelve fell to Hercules except me. The defeat of the others might have been bearable, but the death of Periclymenus is astonishing. “Neptune, the founder of the Neleian family, had given Periclymenus the power to take any shape he chose and then leave it. After trying every other shape in vain, he became the bird most favored by the king of the Gods. The bird carries lightning in its curved talons. Periclymenus used that bird’s strength, wings, curved beak, and hooked talons to tear at the hero’s face. The Tirynthian hero aimed his all too accurate bow at him as he moved high among the clouds. While Periclymenus hovered in the air, Hercules hit him where the wing joins the body.

“Nor is the wound a great one, but his sinews, cut by the wound, fail him, and deny him motion and strength for flying. He fell down to the earth, his weakened pinions not catching the air; and where the smooth arrow had stuck in his wing, it was pressed still further by the weight of his pierced body, and it was driven, through the upper side, into the left part of the neck. Do I seem to be owing encomiums to the exploits of thy father Hercules, most graceful leader of the Rhodian fleet?¹⁰⁴⁰ Yet I will no further avenge my brothers, than by being silent on his brave deeds: with thyself I have a firm friendship.” After the son¹⁰⁴¹ of Neleus had said these things with his honied tongue, the gifts of Bacchus being resumed after the discourse of the aged man, they arose from their couches: the rest of the night was given to sleep.

“The wound was not serious, but it cut his sinews, leaving him unable to move or fly. He fell to the earth, his weakened wings unable to catch the air. The smooth arrow was lodged in his wing, and the weight of his pierced body pressed it even farther in. It was driven through the upper side of his wing and into the left side of his neck. Do you think I owe praise to the exploits of your father Hercules, most graceful leader of the Rhodian fleet?¹⁰⁴⁰ Yet I will avenge my brothers only by saying nothing of his brave deeds. I have a firm friendship with you.” After the son¹⁰⁴¹ of Neleus had spoken with his honeyed tongue, they resumed drinking the gifts of Bacchus. Then they rose from their couches and gave the rest of the night to sleep.

But the God who commands the waters of the sea with his trident, laments, with the affection of a father, the body of his son, changed into the bird of the son of Sthenelus; and abhorring the ruthless Achilles, pursues his resentful wrath in more than an ordinary manner. And now, the war having been protracted for almost twice five years, with such words as these he addresses the unshorn Smintheus:¹⁰⁴² “O thou, most acceptable to me, by far, of the sons of my brother, who, together with me, didst build the walls of Troy in vain; and dost thou not grieve when thou lookest upon these towers so soon to fall? or dost thou not lament that so many thousands are slain in defending these walls? and (not to recount them all) does not the ghost of Hector, dragged around his Pergamus, recur to thee? Though still the fierce Achilles, more blood-stained than war itself, lives on, the destroyer of our toil, let him but put himself in my power, I will make him feel what I can do with my triple spear. But since it is not allowed us to encounter the enemy in close fight, destroy him, when off his guard, with a secret shaft.”

But the god who commands the sea with his trident mourns his son with a father’s love. His son’s body has been changed into the bird of the son of Sthenelus. He hates the ruthless Achilles and pursues his vengeance with more than ordinary fury. The war has now dragged on for nearly ten years, and he addresses the unshorn Smintheus¹⁰⁴² with these words: “Of all my brother’s sons, you are by far the dearest to me. Together we built the walls of Troy in vain. Does it not grieve you to see these towers, which will soon fall? Do you not mourn the many thousands slain defending these walls? And, without naming them all, does not the ghost of Hector come back to you, dragged around his Pergamus? Yet the fierce Achilles still lives. He is more bloodstained than war itself, and he destroyed what we built. If he would only come within my power, I would make him feel what I can do with my triple spear. But we are not allowed to meet the enemy in close combat. So kill him with a hidden arrow when he is off guard.”

He nodded his assent; and the Delian God, indulging together both his own resentment and that of his uncle, veiled in a cloud, comes to the Trojan army, and in the midst of the slaughter of the men, he sees Paris, at intervals, scattering his darts among the ignoble Greeks; and, discovering himself to be a Divinity, he says, “Why dost thou waste thy arrows upon the blood of the vulgar? If thou hast any concern for thy friends, turn upon the grandson of Æacus, and avenge thy slaughtered brothers.” Thus he said; and pointing at the son of Peleus, mowing down the bodies of the Trojans with the sword, he turned his bow towards him, and directed his unerring arrow with a fatal right hand. This was the only thing at which, after the death of Hector, the aged Priam could rejoice. And art thou then, Achilles, the conqueror of men so great, conquered by the cowardly ravisher of a Grecian wife? But if it had been fated for thee to fall by the hand of a woman, thou wouldst rather have fallen by the Thermodontean¹⁰⁴³ battle-axe.

He nodded in agreement. The Delian God then satisfied both his own anger and his uncle’s. Hidden in a cloud, he came to the Trojan army. Amid the slaughter, he saw Paris shooting arrows now and then at ordinary Greek soldiers. Revealing himself as a god, he said, “Why are you wasting your arrows on the blood of common soldiers? If you care about your friends, aim at the grandson of Æacus and avenge your slaughtered brothers.” Thus he spoke. He pointed to the son of Peleus, who was cutting down Trojans with his sword. Then he turned Paris’s bow toward him and guided his unerring arrow with a deadly hand. This was the only thing that could bring the aged Priam joy after the death of Hector. And are you, Achilles, conqueror of such great men, defeated by the coward who abducted a Greek wife? But if you were fated to fall by a woman’s hand, you would rather have fallen to the Thermodontean¹⁰⁴³ battle-axe.

Now that dread of the Phrygians, the glory and defence of the Pelasgian name, the grandson of Æacus, a head invincible in war, had been burnt: the same Divinity had armed him,¹⁰⁴⁴ and had burned him. He is now but ashes; and there remains of Achilles, so renowned, I know not what; that which will not well fill a little urn. But his glory lives, which can fill the whole world: this allowance is befitting that hero, and in this the son of Peleus is equal to himself, and knows not the empty Tartarus. Even his very shield gives occasion for war, that you may know to whom it belongs; and arms are wielded for arms. The son of Tydeus does not dare to claim them, nor Ajax, the son of Oïleus,¹⁰⁴⁵ nor the younger son of Atreus, nor he who is his superior both in war and age, nor any others; the hope of so much glory exists only in him begotten by Telamon and the son of Laërtes. The descendant of Tantalus removes from himself the burden and the odium of a decision, and orders the Argive leaders to sit in the midst of the camp, and transfers the judgment of the dispute to them all.

Achilles had now been burned on the pyre. He was the terror of the Phrygians, the glory and defender of the Pelasgian name, the grandson of Æacus, and a warrior unbeaten in battle. The same Divinity had armed him,¹⁰⁴⁴ and had burned him. He is now only ashes. Of the famous Achilles, I know not what remains, scarcely enough to fill a small urn. But his glory lives on, and it can fill the whole world. Such glory is fitting for that hero. In his glory, the son of Peleus remains fully himself and knows nothing of empty Tartarus. Even his shield gives rise to a battle, so that you may know who owned it. Warriors take up arms to fight for his arms. The son of Tydeus does not dare claim them, nor does Ajax, the son of Oïleus,¹⁰⁴⁵. Neither does the younger son of Atreus, nor his superior in both war and age, nor any others. Only Telamon’s son and the son of Laërtes hope to win such glory. The descendant of Tantalus spares himself the burden and resentment of a decision. He orders the Argive leaders to sit in the middle of the camp and leaves the judgment of the dispute to them all.