{"id":3004,"date":"2013-07-13T01:45:17","date_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:45:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost\/?p=3004"},"modified":"2013-07-13T01:45:17","modified_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:45:17","slug":"33-two-poems-in-quantitative-hexameters-contd-vol-02-collected-poems","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/01-works-of-sri-aurobindo\/03-cwsa\/02-collected-poems\/33-two-poems-in-quantitative-hexameters-contd-vol-02-collected-poems","title":{"rendered":"-33_Two Poems in Quantitative Hexameters – CONTD.htm"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n\n\n
\n

 <\/td>\n

\n<\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t<\/font>BOOK V<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\tThe Book of Achilles<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nMeanwhile grey from the Trojan gates Talthybius journeyed<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSpurred by the secret thought of the Fates who change not nor falter.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSimois sighed round his wheels and Xanthus roared at his passing,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tTroas’ god like a lion wroth and afraid; to meet him<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhistling the ocean breezes came and Ida regarded.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSo with his haste in the wheels the herald oceanward driving<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCame through the gold of the morn, o’er the trampled green of the pastures<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBack to the ships and the roar of the sea and the iron-hooped leaguer.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWide to the left his circle he wrote where the tents of Achilles<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tTrooped like a flock of the sea-fowl pensive and still on the margin.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHe past the outposts rapidly coursed to the fosse of the Argives.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tIn with a quavering cry to the encampment over the causeway<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBridging the moat of the ships Talthybius drove in his chariot<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tOut of the wide plains azure-roofed and the silence of Nature<\/span><\/p>\n

\nPassing in to the murmur of men and the thick of the leaguer.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThere to a thrall of the Hellene he cast his reins and with labour<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDown from the high seat climbed of the war-car framed for the mighty.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThen betwixt tent-doors endless, vistaed streets of the canvas,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSlowly the old man toiled with his eager heart, and to meet him<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSauntering forth from his tent at the sound of the driving car-wheels<\/span><\/p>\n

\nStrong Automedon came who was charioteer of Achilles.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t“Grey Talthybius, whence art thou coming? From Troya the ancient?<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOr from a distant tent was thy speed and the King Agamemnon?<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tWhat in their armoured assembly counsel the kings of the Argives?”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n“Not from the host but from Troy, Automedon, come I with tidings,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tNor have I mixed with the Greeks in their cohorts ranked by the Ocean,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNor have I stood in their tents who are kings in sceptred Achaia,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBut from Achilles sent to Achilles I bring back the message.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTell me, then, what does Pelides, whether his strength he reposes<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSoothed by the lyre or hearing the chanted deeds of the mighty<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOr does he walk as he loves by the shore of the far-sounding waters?”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tAnd to the Argive herald grey Automedon answered:<\/span><\/p>\n

\n“Now from the meal he rests and Briseis lyres to him singing<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tOne of the Ilian chants of old in the tongue of the Trojans.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n
\nPage \u2013 411<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

“Early, then, he has eaten, Automedon, early reposes?”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t“Early the meat was broached on the spits, Talthybius, early<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHigh on the sands or under the tents we have eaten and rested.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tNone knows the hour of the hunt, red, fierce, nor the prey he shall leap on,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAll are like straining hounds; for Achilles shares not his counsels,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBut on the ships, in the tents the talk has run like Peneus;<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThese upon Troy to be loosed and the hard-fighting wolf-brood of Priam,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThese hope starkly with Argos embraced to have done with the Spartan,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nEnding his brilliance in blood or to sport on the sands of the margent<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPlaying at bowls with the heads of the Cretan and crafty Odysseus.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWelcome were either or both; we shall move in the dances of Ares,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tQuicken heart-beats dulled and limbs that are numb with reposing.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWar we desire and no longer this ease by the drone of the waters.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSo as they spoke, they beheld far-off the tent of Achilles<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSplendid and spacious even as the hall of a high-crested chieftain,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tLofty, held by a hundred stakes to the Phrygian meadow.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHung were its sides with memories bronze and trophies of armour,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSword and spear and helmet and cuirass of fallen heroes<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSlain by the hand of the mighty Achilles warring with Troya.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tTeemed in its canvas rooms the plundered riches of Troas,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCraftsman’s work and the wood well-carved and the ivory painted,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tWork of bronze and work of gold and the dreams of the artist.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAnd in those tents of his pride, in the dreadful guard of the Hellene,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tNoble boys and daughters of high-born Phrygians captive,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBorne from the joyless ruins that now were the sites of their childhood,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tServed in the land of their sires the will of the Phthian Achilles.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThere on a couch reclined in his beauty mighty and golden,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tLoved by the Fates and doomed by them, spear of their will against Troya,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nPeleus’ hero son by the foam-white child of the waters<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tDreaming reposed and his death-giving hand hung lax o’er the couch-side.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNear him dark-eyed Briseis, the fatal and beautiful captive,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSang to the Grecian victor chants of the land of her fathers,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSang the chant of Ilus, the tale of the glories of Troya.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tTrojan boys and maidens sat near the singer and listened<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHeart-delighted if with some tears; for easy are mortal<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tHearts to be bent by Fate and soon we consent to our fortunes.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut in the doorway Automedon stood with the shadowy Argive<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n
\nPage \u2013 412<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\nAnd at the ominous coming the voice of the singer faltered,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tFaltering hushed like a thought melodious ceasing in heaven.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut from his couch the Peleid sprang and he cried to the herald.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t“Long hast thou lingered in Ilion, envoy, mute in the chambers<\/span><\/p>\n

\nGolden of Priam old, while around thee darkened the counsels<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tWavering blindly and fiercely of minds that revolt from compulsion,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNatures at war with the gods and their fortunes. Fain would I fathom<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tWhat were the thoughts of Deiphobus locked in that nature of iron<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNow that he stands confronting his fate in the town of his fathers.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPeace dwells not in thy aspect. Sowst thou a seed then of ruin<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCast from the inflexible heart and the faltering tongue of Aeneas,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tOr with the golden laugh of the tameless bright Alexander?”<\/span><\/p>\n

\nGrey Talthybius answered, “Surely their doom has embraced them<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tWrapping her locks round their ears and their eyes, lest they see and escape
\nher,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tKissing their tongue with her fatal lips and dictating its answers.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDire is the hope of their chiefs and fierce is the will of their commons.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSon of the Aeacids, spurned is thy offer. The pride of thy challenge<\/span><\/p>\n

\nRather we choose; it is nearer to Dardanus, King of the Hellenes.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tNeither shall Helen captive be dragged to the feet of her husband,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNor down the paths of peace revisit her fathers’ Eurotas.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tDeath and the fire may prevail on us, never our wills shall surrender<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLowering Priam’s heights and darkening Ilion’s splendours;<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tNot of such sires were we born, but of kings and of gods. Larissan,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNot with her gold Troy purchases safety but with her spear-point.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tStand with thy oath in the war-front, Achilles, call on thy helpers<\/span><\/p>\n

\nArmed to descend from the calm of Olympian heights to thy succour<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tHedging thy fame from defeat; for we all desire thee in battle,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nMighty to end thee or tame at last by the floods of the Xanthus.’<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSo they reply; they are true to their death, they are constant for ruin.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHumbler answer hope not, O hero, from Penthesilea;<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tInsolent, warlike, regal and swift as herself is her message.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSea of renown and of valour that fillest the world with thy rumour,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSpeed of the battle incarnate, mortal image of Ares!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTerror and tawny delight like a lion one hunts or is hunted!<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tDread of the world and my target, swift-footed glorious hero!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThus have I imaged thee, son of Peleus, dreaming in countries<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n
\nPage \u2013 413<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Far from thy knowledge, in mountains that never have rung to thy war-cry.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tO, I have longed for thee, warrior! Therefore today by thy message<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSo was I seized with delight that my heart was hurt with its rapture,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tKnowing today I shall gaze with my eyes on that which I imaged<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOnly in air of the mind or met in the paths of my dreaming.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThus have I praised thee first with my speech; with my spear I would answer.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nYet for thy haughty scorn who deeming of me as some Hellene<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tOr as a woman weak of these plains fit but for the distaff,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nPromisest capture in war and fame as thy slavegirl in Phthia,  \u2014
\n<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSurely I think that death today will reply to that promise,  \u2014
\n\t\t\t<\/span> <\/p>\n

\nNow I will give thee my answer and warn thee ere we encounter.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tKnow me queen of a race that never was conquered in battle!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nKnow me armed with a spear that never has missed in the combat!<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThere where my car-wheels run, good fruit gets the husbandman after.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThis thou knowest. Ajax has told thee, thy friend, in his dying.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tHas not Meriones’ spirit come in thy dreams then to warn thee?<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDidst thou not number the Argives once ere I came to the battle?<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tNumber them now and measure the warrior Penthesilea.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSuch am I then whom thy dreams have seen meek-browed in Larissa,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tAnd in the battle behind me thunder the heroes Eoan,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nRanks whose feeblest can match with the vaunted chiefs of the Argives.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tNever yet from the shock have they fled; if they turn from the foeman,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAlways ’tis to return like death recircling on mortals.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tYet being such, having such for my armies, this do I promise:<\/span><\/p>\n

\nI on the left of the Trojans war with my bright-armed numbers,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThou on the Argive right come forth, Achilles, and meet me!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nIf thou canst drive us with rout into Troy, I will own thee for master,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tDo thy utmost will and make thee more glorious than gods are<\/span><\/p>\n

\nServing thy couch in Phthia and drawing the jar from thy rivers.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tNay, if thou hast that strength, then hunt me, O hunter, and seize me,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nIf ’tis thy hope indeed that the sun can turn back from the Orient,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBut if thou canst not, death of myself or thyself thou shalt capture.'”<\/span><\/p>\n

\nMusing heard and was silent awhile the strength of Achilles,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tMusing of Fate and the wills of men and the purpose of Heaven,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThen from his thoughts he broke and turned in his soul towards battle.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t“Well did I know what reply would come winged from the princes of Troya.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nProne are the hearts of heroes to wrath and to God-given blindness<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n
\nPage \u2013 414<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhen from their will they are thrust and harried by Fate and disaster:<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tFierceness then is the armour of strength against grief and its yieldings.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSo have the gods made man for their purpose, cunningly fashioned.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tOnce had defiance waked from my depths a far-striding fury,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFlaming for justice and vengeance, nor had it, satisfied, rested,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSunk to its lair, till the insulter died torn or was kneeling for pardon.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFierce was my heart in my youth and exulted in triumph and slaughter.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tNow as I grow in my spirit like to my kin the immortals,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nJoy more I find in saving and cherishing than in the carnage.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tGreater it seems to my mind to be king over men than their slayer,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNobler to build and to govern than what the ages have laboured<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPutting their godhead forth to create or the high gods have fashioned,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThat to destroy in our wrath of a moment. Ripened, more widely<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tOpens my heart to the valour of man and the beauty of woman,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWorks of the world and delight; the cup of my victory sweetens<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tNot with the joys of hate, but the human pride of the triumph.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nYet was the battle decreed for the means supreme of the mortal<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPlaced in a world where all things strive from the worm to the Titan.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSo will I seize by the onset what peace from my soul would sequester,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSo will I woo with the sword and with love the delight of my foeman,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTroy and Polyxena, beauty of Paris and glory of Priam.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThis was the ancient wrestling, this was the spirit of warfare<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFit for the demigods. Soon in the city of gold and of marble,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThere where Ilus sat and Tros, where Laomedon triumphed,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nPeleus’ house shall reign, the Hellene sit where the Trojan<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThought himself deathless. Arise, Automedon! Out to the people!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSend forth the cry through the ships and the tents of the Myrmidon nation.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tLet not a man be found then lingering when o’er the causeway<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThunder my chariot-wheels, nor let any give back in the battle,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tGood if he wills from me, till through the conquered gates of the foeman<\/span><\/p>\n

\nStorming we herd in their remnants and press into Troy as with evening<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tHelios rushing sinks to the sea. But thou, Briseis,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nPut by thy lyre, O girl; it shall gladden my heart in my triumph<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tVictor returned from Troy to listen pleased to thy singing,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBearing a captive bound to my car-wheels Penthesilea,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBearing my valour’s reward, Polyxena, daughter of Priam,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWon in despite of her city and brothers and spears of her kindred.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n
\nPage \u2013 415<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

So by force it is best to take one’s will and be mighty.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tJoyful, Automedon ran through the drowsy camp of the Hellenes<\/span><\/p>\n

\nChanging the hum of the tents as he raced into shoutings of battle;<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tFor with the giant din of a nation triumphant arising<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHellas sprang from her irksome ease and mounted her war-car;<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tDonning her armour bright she rejoiced in the trumpets of battle.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut to the herald grey the Peleid turned and the old man<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tShuddered under his gaze and shrank from the voice of the hero:<\/span><\/p>\n

\n“Thou to the tents of thy Kings, Talthybius, herald of Argos!<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tStand in the Argive assembly, voice of the strength of Achilles.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCare not at all though the greatest and fiercest be wroth with thy message.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tDeem not thyself, old man, as a body and flesh that is mortal,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nRather as living speech from the iron breast of the Hellene.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThus shalt thou cry to the vanquished chiefs who fled from a woman,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThus shalt thou speak my will to the brittle and fugitive legions:<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tNow Achilles turns towards Troya and fast-flowing Xanthus,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNow he leaps at the iron zone, the impregnable city.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tTwo were the forms of the Gods that o’erhung the sails of Pelides<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhen with a doubtful word in his soul he came wind-helped from Hellas<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tCleaving the Aegean deep towards the pine-crested vision of Ida.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTwo are the Fates that stride with the hero counting his exploits.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tOver all earthly things the soul that is fearless is master,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOnly on death he can reckon not whether it comes in the midnight<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tTreading the couch of Kings in their pride or speeds in the spear-shaft.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNow will I weigh down that double beam of the Olympian balance<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tClaiming one of the equal Fates that stand robed for the fighter,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFor to my last dire wrestle I go with the Archer of heaven,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tAnd ere the morning gleam have awakened the eagles on Ida,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTroy shall lie prone or the earth shall be empty of Phthian Achilles.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBut for whatever Fate I accept from the ageless Immortals,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhether cold Hades dim or Indus waits for my coming<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPouring down vast to the sea with the noise of his numberless waters,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nI with Zeus am enough. Your mortal aid I desire not,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tRushing to Troy like the eagle of Zeus when he flies towards the
\n\t\t\tthunders,  \u2014 <\/span> <\/p>\n

\nWinged with might, the bird of the spaces, upbuoying his pinions.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tNor shall my spirit look back for the surge of your Danaan fighters,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTramp of the Argive multitudes helping my lonely courage,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n
\nPage \u2013 416<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\nNeither the transient swell of the cry Achaian behind me<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSeek, nor the far-speeding voice of Atrides guiding his legions.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNeed has he none for a leader who himself is the soul of his action.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tZeus and his fate and his spear are enough for the Phthian Achilles.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nRest, O wearied hosts; my arm shall win for you Troya,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tQuelled when the stern Eoans break and Penthesilea<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLies like a flower in the dust at my feet. Yet if Ares desire you,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tCome then and meet him once more mid the cry and the trampling! Assemble<\/span><\/p>\n

\nRound the accustomed chiefs, round the old victorious wrestlers<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tWearied strengths Deiphobus leaves you or sternest Aeneas.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut when my arm and my Fate have vanquished their gods and Apollo,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBrilliant with blood when we stand amid Ilion’s marble splendours,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThen let none seat deaf flame on the glory of Phrygia’s marbles<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tOr with his barbarous rapine shatter the chambers of sweetness<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSlaying the work of the gods and the beauty the ages have lived for.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tFor he shall moan in the night remote from the earth and her greenness,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSpurred like a steed to its goal by my spear dug deep in his bosom;<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tFast he shall fleet to the waters of wailing, the pleasureless pastures.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTouch not the city Apollo built, where Poseidon has laboured.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSeized and dishelmed and disgirdled of Apollonian ramparts,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nEmpty of wide-rolling wheels and the tramp of a turbulent people<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tTroy with her marble domes shall live for our nations in beauty<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHushed mid the trees and the corn and the pictured halls of the ancients,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tWatching her image of dreams in the gliding waves of Scamander,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSacred and still, a city of memory spared by the Grecians.’<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSo shalt thou warn the arrogant hearts of Achaia’s chieftains<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLest upon Greece an evil should fall and her princes should perish.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tHerald, beware how thou soften my speech in the ears of thy nation<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSparing their pride and their hearts but dooming their lives to the death-stroke.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nEven thy time-touched snows shall not shield thy days from my sword-edge.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tWroth the old man’s heart, but he feared Achilles and slowly<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOver the margin grey on the shore of the far-sounding ocean<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSilent paced to the tents of the Greeks and the Argive assembly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThere on the sands while the scream of the tide as it dragged at the pebbles<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tStrove in vain with their droning roar, awaiting their chieftains<\/span><\/p>\n

\nEach in his tribe and his people far down the margin Aegean<\/span><\/p>\n

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\nPage \u2013 417<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Argolis’ sons and Epirote spears and the isles and the southron,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tLocris’ swarms and Messene’s pikes and the strength of the Theban,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHosts bright-armed, bright-eyed, bright-haired, time-hardened to Ares,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tStretched in harsh and brilliant lines with a glitter of spear-points<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFar as the eye could toil. All Europe helmeted, armoured<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSwarmed upon Asia’s coasts disgorged from her ships in their hundreds.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThere in the wide-winged tent of the council that peered o’er the margin,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tHigh where the grass and the meadow-bloom failed on the sand-rifted
\nsward-edge,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPouring his argent voice Epeus spoke to the princes,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nRapid in battle and speech; and even as a boy in a courtyard<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tTosses his ball in the air and changes his hands for the seizing<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSo he played with counsel and thought and rejoiced in his swiftness.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBut now a nearing Fate he felt and his impulse was silenced.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nStilled were his thoughts by the message that speeds twixt our minds in their shadows<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDumb, unthought, unphrased, to us dark, but the caverns of Nature<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tHear its cry when God’s moment changing our fate comes visored<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSilently into our lives and the spirit too knows, for it watches.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tQuiet he fell and all men turned to the face of the herald.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nMute and alone through the ranks of the seated and silent princes<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tOld Talthybius paced, nor paused till he stood at the midmost<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFronting that council of Kings and nearest to Locrian Ajax<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tAnd where Sthenelus sat and where sat the great Diomedes,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nChiefs of the South, but their love was small for the Kings of the Spartans.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThere like one close to a refuge he lifted his high-chanting accents.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHigh was his voice like the wind’s when it whistles shrill o’er a forest<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSole of all sounds at night, for the kite is at rest and the tiger<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSleeps from the hunt returned in the deepest hush of the jungle.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t“Hearken, O Kings of the world, to the lonely will of the Phthian!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOne is the roar of the lion heard by the jungle’s hundreds,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tOne is the voice of the great and the many shall hear it inclining.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLo, he has shaken his mane for the last great leap upon Troya<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tAnd when the eagle’s scream shall arise in the dawn over Ida,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTroy shall have fallen or earth shall be empty of Phthian Achilles.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBut by whatever Fate he is claimed that waits for the mortal,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhether the fast-closed hands above have kept for his morrows<\/span><\/p>\n

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\n
\nPage \u2013 418<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\nChill of the joyless shades or earth and her wooings of sunlight<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tStill shall detain his days with the doubtful meed of our virtues,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHe and Zeus shall provide, not mortals. Chaff are men’s armies<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThreshed by the flails of Fate; ’tis the soul of the hero that conquers.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNot on the tramp of the multitudes, not on the cry of the legions<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tFounds the strong man his strength but the god that he carries within him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nZeus and his Fate and his spear are enough for the Phthian Achilles.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPrudence of men shall curb no more his god-given impulse.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHe has no need of thy voice, O Atrides, guiding the legions,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tHe is the leader, his is the soul of magnificent emprise.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nRest, O ye sons of the Greeks, the Phthian shall conquer for Hellas!<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tRest! expose not your hearts to the war-cry of Penthesilea.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nYet if the strength in you thirsts for the war-din, if Ares is hungry,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tMeet him stark in the mellay urging Deiphobus’ coursers,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nGuiding Aeneas’ spear; recover the souls of your fathers.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBronze must his heart be who looks in the eyes of the implacable war-god!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut when his Fate has conquered their gods and slaughtered their heroes,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tAnd in this marble Ilion forced to the tread of her foemen<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWatched by the ancient domes you stand, by the timeless turrets,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThen let no chieftain garbed for the sacrifice lift against Troya,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCounselled of Ate, torch of the burning, hand of the plunder<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tGroping for gold but finding death in her opulent chambers.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFor he shall moan in the night regretting the earth and her greenness,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSpurred by the spear in his arrogant breast like a steed to the gorges:<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFast he shall fleet to the flowerless meadows, the sorrowful pastures.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tTouch not the city Apollo built, where Poseidon has laboured,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSlay not the work of the gods and the glory the ages have lived for.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tMute of the voice of her children, void of the roll of her war-cars<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTimeless Troy leave solitary dreaming by ancient Scamander<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSacred and still, a city of memory spared by the Phthian.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSo Talthybius spoke and anger silenced the Argives.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tMute was the warlike assembly, silent Achaia’s princes.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWrath and counsel strove in the hush for the voice of the speakers.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n
\nPage \u2013 419<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n<\/td>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  BOOK V   The Book of Achilles   Meanwhile grey from the Trojan gates Talthybius journeyed Spurred by the secret thought of the Fates…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[57],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3004","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-02-collected-poems","wpcat-57-id"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3004","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3004"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3004\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3004"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3004"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3004"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}