THE THIRTIETH PAPYRUS

Then the Father and King of gods and men thundered appallingly from above, and, from beneath, the sea-king Poseidon set the vast earth shaking, even to the tops of her blooming mountains. And the brazen voice of impetuous Ares resounded through the press of battle; and bravely-steadfast Herakles strewed the Latin heroes in swathes, sweeping his club here and there, shattering shins, causing the marrow to spurt from spines, so that knees became loosened; and sweet Death in a white cloud enveloped them while life left their bones. But the lord and lady of the silver bows rained down their hot arrows, which hissed into wet eye-sockets, forcing-in the pupils, and going forward into the backs of the heads: so that many heroes sat down without warning or thrones, stretching out both their hands for nothing. And blissful Pallas Athene smote many, with her spear, where a puncture is particularly painful: so that they panted, spinning round and round upon the point like cockchafers, writhing, holding their interiors in their hands, until white Death veiled their two eyes wanting life.

But I, on the battlements, saw naught but brave Horatius, heard naught save his personal challenge to me, felt naught save the blows which he delivered to my address, touched naught save him, smelt naught save his delicious blood and sweat mingling with ichor of the immortals. For I drove my bloody spear into his shield; and pinned it to his arm. But his spear tore away my silver helmet crested with the prides of nine white peacocks. Then, indeed, I leaped upon him with my sword, protecting my head with my fluttering targe. Nor did he abide my onslaught: but he retired pace by pace; and a shower of sparks burst out of his armour as I shattered it bit by bit. But, perceiving that he was on the very verge of the wall, I hustled him so horribly with my great glittering shield, that, stepping back, he fell for nineteen days, reaching the bountiful earth at length in the form of a thin red rain. But I recovered my silver helmet, running sidewise at Furius, who was pressing the red-haired boy Neoptolemos son of implacable Akhilleys; and him, too, we hustled from the summit of the wall. But the stripling laughed; and he fought beside me, fighting as I did, shoving with very weighty shields, till we had cleared a little space: for the assault was keen.

But Pallas Athene of the terrible Aigis came whirling along the open way in her war-chariot, shouting aloud and frightfully in the Orthian strain. And scores of the blameless Latins she squashed to pulp, or hurled from the height. But then, indeed, when one might have begun to think about victory, suddenly I heard the voice of Queen Helen calling me by name. To whom I revolved like a flash of white thunder.

But the divine one of goddesses was flying toward me in the pleasure-chariot of white-armed Hera the queen, woven of golden thongs plaited tightly, with pole and wheels and yoke and harness of gold. And peacocks drew it, flying on large wings coloured of cinnamon and ebony, with quivering crests and necks of shining blue, and waving golden prides which gleamed each with a hundred purple eyes. She cried to me as she came: for a faithful wife (being troubled) thinks that no one but her dear husband can relieve her. And she said that constant Regulus, and Scipio the African, and Gajus Martius of Corioli, were attacking on the north, having scaled the wall: whom Queen Hera and the goddesses were withstanding, as best they might, with golden tiles and paving-stones and jars and bowls and stairs, hurled from the blooming towers.

And I heard the saying of Queen Helen, with those who fought near me; and, instantly, we ran roaring to repel the invaders. And yellow-haired Akhilleys the bravest of heroes ran with me, and red-haired Neoptolemos his son, and Idomeneys strong as flame, and Diomedes of the loud war-cry, and magnanimous Iason, and glancing-eyed Diokles, and golden-haired Meleagros, and my own cousin Perseys of the sea (the most renowned of heroes), nine in all. But we, ravening with fury, fell upon the Latins; and I myself engaged Titus son of Tarquinius, a gallant enough hero, who (after some striving) took a toss from me into the sea, the abode of fishes, where eels might eat him, nibbling the white fat round his kidneys. But only implacable Akhilleys remained alive beside me, having his breath upon the height of Olympos, with glancing-eyed Diokles who became my sweet friend, and also Perseys the immortal hero. And all the might of the Latins was surging round to the north wall; and Titus Manlius of the golden collar was leading them. But we three fought grimly on.

Then leaped-up in her might Strife the rouser of hosts. Then Pallas Athene sent forth a cry. And Ares shouted, terrible as the blackness of storms. Then came Artemis of the silver arrows and the echoing chase, and Phoibos Apollon darting afar. Then the Father and King of gods and men came lamping and toning terrifically from above. Then came Hermes the Helper.

And shady Hades, lord of the netherworld, leaped from his black throne, bursting his bandages, in terror lest the earth should again be riven by King Poseidon irascibly rolling great billows about: so loud was the din made by us immortals. And, at King Zeys’ behest, King Hades gave up a new host of heroes to Hermes the Helper, Lysander and Leonidas those dirty-knuckled Lakonians, and Alkibiades and Nikias the Athenians, and Makedonian Alexandros, and lacerated Prometheys, and thirsty Tantalos, and wise Telemakhos my son and prudent Penelope’s, and unknowing Telegonos my son and Kirke’s of the awful braided tresses, and Teykros the bowman, and belted Orion, and gigantic Tityros, and even the blameless Dardanian heroes of Ilion to fight for the gods of lofty Olympos, to wit, Hektor of the glancing helm, and pious runaway Aineias, and Amphios of the linen corslet, and Asios prince of men, and Hippothoos skilled with the spear, and well-legged Phorkys, and uncouth Nastes, and Sarpedon counseller of the Lykians, and noble Glaykos, and naked Lykaon, and equal-handed Asteropaios, and Polydoros the runner, all the most righteous of heroes, thirsty for bloodshed and buzzing like shameless mosquitoes.

And now the heavens were filled with gods and heroes, and ablaze with arms; and the earth below rang with the noise of the feet of them, as they rushed together for the fray. For we, the Olympians, like ravening lions, were leaping out, fulfilling the will of loud-thundering Zeys ordaining a backward chase of the Latins. They, indeed, of necessity were compelled to give way; and many fair brands, dark-scabbarded and dark-hilted, fell to the earth, some from the hands and some with the severed hands of warriors, so that the black earth was splashed with a hail of the juices of heroes.

But, scattering, the Latins broke, and fled in confusion, driven in utter rout; and hero called after hero to engage in single combat, slaying each his own. And, wherever the king of gods and men saw them thickest in flight, thither did he guide his blooming chariot with resounding cries; and, under his axle-trees, the Latins fell prone and were ground up, till not one remained in life: but they were pushed into the land of the shades.

And, even as tempests oppress the black earth in autumn, when Zeys pours forth rain most vehemently, being wrath against men who judge crooked judgments forcibly and drive justice out: so, mightily, then, we followed the blameless gods of the Romans; and they fled as men flee before lions and bloody unicorns. For Panic and Terror and terrible Fear bounded behind them yelling hideously: so that they fled, over the mountains of Makedonia, and woody Epiros, and the Ionian Sea, and also over Apulia, never staying, till (at length) they cowered above the Capitol of Rome, expecting the doom of the vanquished.

In this manner, was there war in the wide-rolling heavens.