Book 1

1. When godlike Hector had been slain beneath Peleus' son,

and the pyre had consumed him and the earth concealed his bones,

then the Trojans waited on, throughout the city of Priam,

dreading the noble might of the bold-hearted son of Aeacus;

as in the thickets cattle have no will

to come and face a grim-eyed lion, but flee in terror,

cowering in herds among the close-grown brush,

so they, throughout their city, shrank before that mighty man,

remembering all that had gone before, how many lives he had cast away

raging about the streams of Idaean Scamander,

and all whom he had destroyed as they fled beneath the great wall,

how he had cut down Hector and dragged him round the city,

and how he had slaughtered others across the unwearying sea,

when first he brought destruction upon the Trojans.

Remembering all this they waited on throughout the city,

and a bitter grief hung hovering about them,

as though already Troy were burning in the wailing fire.

And then from the broad-flowing streams of Thermodon

came Penthesileia, clothed in the beauty of the gods,

at once longing for the war that brings groaning

and greatly shunning a hateful and unseemly rumour,

lest someone among her people should reproach and revile her

concerning her sister, for whose sake her grief grew strong,

Hippolyte; for she had killed her with a mighty spear,

not willingly at all, but aiming at a stag.

For this she came to the renowned land of Troy.

And still her warlike spirit was set on this besides:

that, purified of the grievous defilement of the slaying,

she might appease with offerings the dread Furies,

who, angry for her sister, had at once come after her,

unseen; for those goddesses are forever about the feet of sinners,

circling, and none who has sinned can escape them.

Twelve others followed with her, all noble,

all longing for war and unseemly combat,

who were her handmaids, glorious though they were;

but far above them all towered Penthesileia.

As when across the broad sky among the stars the divine moon

shines out, conspicuous above them all,

the air breaking open below the loud-thundering clouds,

when the great fierce strength of the blowing winds is laid to rest;

so she stood out among all those who pressed forward with her.

There were Clonie and Polemousa and Derinoe,

Euandre and Antandre and divine Bremousa,

and Hippothoe too, and after her dark-eyed Harmothoe,

Alcibie and Antibrote and Derimacheia,

and beside her Thermodosa, glorying greatly in her spear;

so many attended warlike Penthesileia.

As from unwearied Olympus comes down

Dawn, glorying in her radiant horses,

among the fair-haired Hours, and above them all

her shining beauty stands out, blameless though they are,

so came Penthesileia to the Trojan city,

supreme among all the Amazons; and round about the Trojans

came rushing from every side and marvelled greatly, when they saw

the deep-greaved daughter of unwearying Ares,

like to the blessed gods, since about her face

there shone at once a beauty terrible and radiant,

. . .

smiling sweetly, and beneath her brows her lovely

eyes glittered like sunbeams,

and modesty reddened her cheeks, and over them

lay a divine grace clothed in valour.

The people rejoiced about her, grieved though they had been before;

as when from a mountain herdsmen behold

the rainbow rising out of the broad sea,

when they long for the god-sent rain, while the ploughlands

are already withering, longing for the water of Zeus,

and at last the great sky grows misty, and they, seeing

the good sign of wind and of rain drawing near,

rejoice, who before had groaned over their fields;

so the sons of the Trojans, when they beheld within their land

dread Penthesileia eager for the war,

were glad; for when hope enters into a man's heart

concerning some good, it softens his grievous misery.

So too the mind of Priam, though he groaned for much

and sorrowed greatly, was a little warmed at heart;

as when a man who has suffered much with sightless eyes,

longing to see the holy light, or else to die,

by the labour of a blameless healer, or of a god

who clears away the darkness, beholds the light of dawn,

not as much as before, yet a little is he gladdened

out of his great affliction, though there still remains

a bitter trace of his hurt beneath his lids; so on the dread

daughter the son of Laomedon gazed, on Penthesileia;

a little he rejoiced, but more he grieved still

for his slain sons. He led the queen into his halls,

and honoured her with constant goodwill as a daughter

come home from far in the twentieth year,

and made for her a feast of every dainty, such as

glorious kings eat when, having ravaged nations,

they banquet at their festivals, exulting in their victory;

and he gave her gifts, fair and rich, and promised

to give her many more, if she should defend the Trojans in their slaughter.

And she undertook a deed that no mortal ever hoped for,

to slay Achilles and destroy the broad host

of the Argives, and to cast firebrands upon the ships;

foolish one; she knew nothing of Achilles of the good ash spear,

how far supreme he was in the man-destroying fight.

When the noble daughter of Eetion heard her,

Andromache, she spoke thus within her own heart:

Ah, wretched woman, why do you say such great and boastful things?

You have no strength to fight the fearless son of Peleus,

but swiftly will he bring death and ruin upon you.

Poor woman, why are you mad in your mind? Surely close at hand

stands the end of Death for you, and the doom of your destiny.

For Hector was far mightier than you with the spear;

yet he was slain, strong though he was, and grieved the Trojans greatly,

who all throughout the city looked on him as a god;

and to me he was great glory, and to my godlike parents,

while he lived; would that the heaped earth had hidden me

before his life was lost beneath the spear through his throat.

But now I have looked, in misery, on unspeakable pain,

when about the city the swift horses dragged him

cruelly, Achilles' horses, who made me widowed

of my wedded husband, which is bitter grief to me all my days.

So spoke fair-ankled Eetione within her heart,

remembering her husband; for very great grief grows

over a dead husband in the hearts of prudent women.

And the sun, wheeling about the swift eddies,

sank into the deep stream of Ocean, and the day was done.

And when they had ceased from drinking and the lovely feast,

then the handmaids spread out a welcome bed

in the house of Priam for bold-hearted Penthesileia;

and she went and slept; and sleep covered her eyes,

descending sweet about her; and from the high heaven there came,

by the devising of Pallas, the strength of a treacherous Dream,

so that, beholding it, she might become an evil to the Trojans

and to herself, eager for the whirl of war.

Such things did warlike Tritogeneia contrive;

and the baneful Dream stood over her, like her father,

and urged her to fight boldly face to face

against swift-footed Achilles; and she, hearing,

rejoiced utterly in her heart; for she thought to accomplish a great deed

that very day in the chilling battle;

foolish one; she trusted the wretched Dream

of evening, which beguiles the tribes of much-enduring men

upon their beds, lavishing its mocking words,

which deceived her then, urging her to her toil.

But when rosy-ankled dawn leapt up,

then Penthesileia, putting great strength into her heart,

sprang from her bed and clothed about her shoulders

the cunning-wrought armour that the god Ares had given her.

First about her gleaming legs she set

greaves of gold, well fitted to her;

next she put on her glittering corslet; and round her shoulders

she set, glorying, a great sword, about which on every side

a scabbard was wrought well of silver and ivory;

and she took up her divine shield, like the rim of the moon

that rises over deep-flowing Ocean,

half-full between its curving horns;

so it gleamed past telling; and upon her head

she set a helmet crested with golden plumes;

so she clothed her body in that fatal armour.

She seemed like a lightning-flash, which from Olympus

the might of unwearying Zeus sends down to earth,

showing to men the strength of the heavy-roaring rain

or the unceasing roar of the loud-rushing winds.

At once, hastening to go forth out of the hall,

she took two javelins beneath her shield, and in her right hand

a two-edged battle-axe, which dread Strife had given her

to be a mighty defence in soul-devouring war.

Exulting in it, she came swiftly outside the walls,

urging the Trojans to come forth to the battle

that brings men glory; and they were swiftly gathered and persuaded,

the best of men, though before they had been unwilling

to stand against Achilles; for he was crushing them all.

And she gloried unrestrained; she sat upon her horse,

beautiful and very swift, which the wife of Boreas,

Oreithyia, had given her of old when she went to Thrace,

a guest-gift, a horse that excelled even the swift Harpies.

Mounted on him, noble Penthesileia left

the high halls of the city; and the baleful fates urged her on

at once to her first and last battle,

to go; and round about her, on feet that would never return,

came many Trojans to the pitiless fight, with the daring girl,

in throngs, like sheep behind the ram, who, when all

are moving on, leads the way by the herdsman's skill;

so they followed her, raging greatly in their might,

the stout Trojans and the strong-hearted Amazons.

She, like Tritonis when she came against the Giants,

or like Strife who rouses tumult, rushing through the host,

such was swift Penthesileia among the Trojans.

And then, lifting up to the son of Cronos his much-enduring

hands, the noble offspring of wealthy Laomedon

prayed, turned toward the high holy place of Idaean

Zeus, who ever looks upon Ilios with his eyes:

Hear me, father, and grant that on this day the Achaean host

fall beneath the hands of the warlike queen,

and again bring her back safe to my house,

reverencing your own son, the mighty, the strong Ares,

and herself, since she is wondrously like the heavenly

goddesses, and is of the race of your divine line.

Have pity on my heart, since I have endured many evils

at the death of my sons, whom the Fates have snatched from me

at the hands of the Argives, in the mouth of battle;

have pity, while still we are a few left of the noble blood

of Dardanus, while still the city stands unravaged, so that we too

may take breath from grievous slaughter and from Ares.

So he spoke in great prayer; and to him an eagle, shrilly screaming,

holding in its talons a dove already breathing out its life,

darted swiftly to the left; and in his heart

the mind of Priam was afraid, and he said he would no more behold

Penthesileia coming alive back from the war;

and so indeed that very day the fates were to bring it

truly to pass; and he grieved, his heart broken.

The Argives marvelled from afar, when they saw

the Trojans rushing on, and warlike Penthesileia,

the Trojans like wild beasts that in the mountains

bring grievous slaughter on the fleecy flocks,

and her like a rush of fire, which over dry thickets

rages when the wind drives it on;

and one among the gathered men spoke a word like this:

Who has roused the Trojans now, after Hector was slain,

whom we said would no more come eager against us?

But now suddenly they rush on, longing greatly for battle.

And someone among them urges them to the fight;

you would say it was a god, since they plan a great deed.

But come, taking unflinching courage in our breasts,

let us be mindful of warlike valour; for not even we

shall fight the Trojans this day without the gods.

So he spoke; and they, putting their bright armour about them,

poured out from the ships, clothed in might upon their shoulders;

and they joined battle, like flesh-eating beasts,

in bloody strife, and held together their fair gear,

spears and corslets and stout shields of oxhide

and strong helmets, and each smote the other's flesh

with the bronze, unsparing; and the Trojan ground grew red.

Then Penthesileia slew Molion and Persinoos

and Eilissos and Antitheus and noble Lernos,

and Hippalmos and Haemonides and strong Elasippos;

Derinoe slew Laogonos, and Clonie Menippos,

who once from Phylace had followed Protesilaos,

that he might fight against the stout Trojans.

At his death the heart of Podarces was stirred,

the son of Iphiclos; for he loved him above his comrades;

and at once he struck godlike Clonie, and through her

the strong spear went into her belly, and swiftly from her

the black blood gushed by the spear, and all her entrails followed;

and at this Penthesileia grew angry, and Podarces

she wounded in the thick muscle with her long spear,

of his right arm, and through the blood-filled veins

she cut, and the black blood from his stricken wound

gushed in haste; and groaning he sprang back

behind; for greatly did pain master his spirit;

and at his going there came to the Phylaceans a longing

unspeakable; and he, withdrawing a little from the battle,

died swiftly in the hands of his own comrades.

And Idomeneus slew Bremousa, striking her with his spear

beside the right breast, and at once he loosed her life;

and she fell like an ash tree, which in the mountains

woodcutters cut down, towering high, and it sends forth

a grievous whistling and a crash together as it falls;

so she fell with a groan, and her every limb

doom loosed, and her spirit mingled with the gusty breezes.

And Meriones slew Euandre and Thermodosa,

rushing upon them in the deadly fray,

into the one driving his spear to her heart, the other beneath the belly

his sword piercing; and life left them swiftly.

And Derinoe the mighty son of Oileus slew

with his sharp spear, striking through the collarbone.

And of Alcibie and of Derimacheia the son of Tydeus

cut off both their heads with their necks, down to the shoulders,

with his grievous blade; and like two calves both

fell, whom a strong man at once robs of life,

cutting through the sinews of the neck with a heavy axe;

so they, slain by the hands of Tydeus' son, fell

across the Trojan plain, their heads far from them.

After them Sthenelos slew strong Cabeiros,

who came from Sestos eager to fight

the Argives, and never again returned to his homeland.

At his death Paris grew angry in his heart,

and shot at Sthenelos straight; yet him

he did not wound, for all his haste, for the arrow swerved

elsewhere, where the pitiless Fates were guiding it;

and it killed instead bronze-belted Euenor,

who had come from Dulichion to fight the Trojans.

At his death the son of noble Phyleus

was stirred; and very swiftly, like a lion among flocks of sheep,

he sprang in; and they all together shrank before the mighty man;

for he slew Itymoneus and Hippasides Agelaos,

who from Miletos brought a war-cry against the Danaans,

under godlike Nastes and great-hearted Amphimachos,

. . .

they who dwelt in Mykale and the white heights of Latmos

and the long glens of Branchos and harbour-girdled Panormos

and the streams of deep-flowing Maeander, which over the land

of the Carians, rich in vines, from Phrygia rich in flocks

goes winding with its many bends in its outflowings.

And these Meges slew in the battle;

and others too he overcame, all whom he reached with his dark spear;

for into his breast Tritogeneia had cast daring,

so that he might bring the day of doom upon the enemy.

And Dresaios was slain by Ares-loved Polypoetes,

whom divine Neaira bore to wise Theiodamas,

joined with him in the bed beneath snowy Sipylos,

where the gods made Niobe a stone, whose tears

still flow in plenty down from the high rugged rock,

and the streams of loud-echoing Hermos groan with her,

and the towering peaks of Sipylos, above which

a mist hateful to shepherds is forever spread;

and she is a great wonder to mortals passing by,

since she is like a woman of many sorrows, who in her grievous

mourning weeps and sheds her countless tears;

and you would say it was truly so, when you behold her

from afar; but when you come near to her,

she appears a sheer rock, a crag broken from Sipylos.

But she, fulfilling the cruel wrath of the blessed gods,

mourns among the rocks, still like one in grief.

Others on others laid slaughter and grievous

doom; for terrible Tumult ranged

among the peoples in their midst; and near at hand the baneful

end of Death stood by them, and round about them the Fates,

deadly, ranged, bearing groaning slaughter.

Many that day had their hearts loosed in the dust,

Trojans and Argives alike, and great was the din that rose;

for the great might of Penthesileia in no way ceased,

but as some lioness among the long mountains upon the cattle

leaps, darting through the deep-cliffed glen,

longing for blood, which greatly warms her heart;

so then upon the Danaans leapt the warlike girl.

And they fell back, with hearts amazed,

and she pursued, like a wave of the loud-roaring sea

upon swift ships, when the white sails are spread

by a driving wind, and the headlands roar from every side

of the sea that belches against the long shore of land;

so she, pursuing, cut down the ranks of the Danaans,

and threatened them greatly, glorying in her heart:

Dogs, today you shall pay the price of Priam's

bitter wrong; not one of you, escaping my might,

shall be a joy to his dear parents and his sons and his wives;

but you shall lie as food for birds and beasts, dead,

and no mound of earth shall come over you.

Where now is the strength of Tydeus' son, where the son of Aeacus,

and where too is Aias? For these they say are the best;

but they will not dare to do battle against me,

lest I bring their souls from their limbs to the dead.

So speaking, with great pride she rushed upon the Argives,

like a beast in might, and slew many of the host,

now with the heavy-mouthed battle-axe, now again

brandishing her sharp javelin; and her dappled horse bore for her

a quiver and a pitiless bow, should there be need

for her in the bloody fray of grievous arrows

and of the bow; and swift men followed her,

the brothers and dear comrades of Hector who fights at close quarters,

breathing mighty Ares in their breasts,

who cut down the Danaans with their well-polished ash spears;

and they, like swift leaves or raindrops,

fell one upon another, and the boundless earth groaned greatly,

drenched with blood and crowded with the dead;

and the horses, pierced about with arrows or with spears,

neighed for the last time, breathing out their strength;

and others, gripping the dust in their teeth, lay gasping;

and the Trojan horses, rushing on behind,

trampled them like bilge as they fell among the slain.

And one among the Trojans, rejoicing greatly, marvelled,

when he saw Penthesileia darting through the host,

like a black storm-cloud, which over the sea

rages, when the strength of the sun joins with Capricorn;

and he spoke, in idle hopes:

O friends, surely openly from heaven there has come

today some one of the immortals, to fight the Argives

bearing aid to us, by the strong will of Zeus,

who now perhaps remembers stout Priam,

who boasts to be of immortal blood.

For I do not think it is a woman we behold,

so bold and bearing such bright armour,

but Athena, or stout-hearted Enyo,

or Strife, or the glorious daughter of Leto; and I think

that today she will cast groaning slaughter upon the Argives

and will burn the ships with deadly fire, the ships in which before

they came to Troy bringing us many evils,

came bringing us unbearable woe beneath Ares;

but truly they shall not return again to Hellas

and gladden their homeland, since a god aids us.

So spoke one of the Trojans, rejoicing utterly in his heart,

foolish; nor did he mark the heavy woe rushing on

upon himself and the Trojans and Penthesileia herself.

For not yet had any tidings of the harsh-sounding battle

reached stout-hearted Aias and city-sacking Achilles,

but both were stretched about the tomb of Menoetius' son,

remembering their comrade; and grief held each apart.

For one of the blessed gods kept them away from the tumult,

so that many might fill up their grievous doom, slain

beneath the Trojans and noble Penthesileia,

who devised evils for them one upon another, and her

valour grew likewise, and her courage the more, and never

did she aim her spear in vain, but ever she rent the backs

of those that fled or the breasts of those that rushed against her;

and she was utterly drenched with warm blood, and her limbs were light

as she pressed on; and weariness did not master her spirit,

unflinching, but she had the might of adamant; for as yet,

while not yet urging her on to the dread struggle with Achilles,

the baleful destiny was glorifying her, and standing apart

from the fight she gloried in deadly triumph, since she was soon

to be overcome, not long after, by the hands of the son of Aeacus;

darkness hid this from her; but the destiny urged her on,

ever unseen, and led her to an evil doom,

glorifying her at the last; and she slew one here, one there.

As when into a dewy garden a heifer leaps,

longing for the sweet grass in springtime,

while the man is not there, and rushes here and there

ruining all the plants, freshly come to bloom,

and devours some, and tramples others under foot;

so among the sons of the Achaeans, pressing through the throng,

the maiden of Enyo slew some and put others to flight.

The Trojan women from afar marvelled at the warlike

deeds of the woman, and a love of war seized

the daughter of Antimachos, the wife of Meneptolemos,

Tisiphone; and with strong-driven heart in her breast

she spoke a bold word, urging on her companions

to the groaning fight; and courage roused her valour:

O friends, taking valiant hearts in your breasts

like our men, who about their homeland

fight the enemy for their children and for us,

never taking breath from misery—but let us too

setting our spirit in our breasts be mindful of equal battle;

for we are not far from stout young men,

but such might as is theirs is in us also;

equal are our eyes and knees, all alike,

and common to all is the light and the boundless air,

and our food is no other; and what better thing has god

given to men? Therefore let us not flee from war.

Or do you not see a woman far excelling young men

who fight at close quarters? Hers is no nearby kin,

nor her own city, but for a foreign king

she fights from her heart, and cares nothing for men,

setting in her breast bold courage and dread purpose;

while for us griefs lie at our feet, one here, one there;

for some have dear children and husbands fallen about the city,

and we mourn parents who are no more;

and others grieve over the death of brothers

and kinsmen; for none is unshare of grievous

misery; and there is the prospect of looking on a day

of slavery; therefore let there be no more delaying of war

for us hard-pressed; for it is better in battle

to die than afterward to be led away by strangers

with our little children, under grievous compulsion,

with the city burning and our men no more.

So she spoke; and on them all fell a love of hateful war;

and in haste before the wall they were eager

to go forth in armour, longing to defend

their city and their people; and their spirit was stirred.

As when within the hive the bees buzz greatly

when winter is no more, when they make ready

to go to pasture, nor is it dear to them to stay within,

but one calls out another to go forth abroad;

so the Trojan women, hastening to the war,

urged one another; and they set aside their wool

and their baskets, and stretched their hands to the grievous arms.

And now outside the city they would have perished together with their own

men and the strong Amazons in that battle,

had not wise-counselling Theano restrained them

in their haste, persuading them with prudent words:

Why are you longing to toil at the dread tumult,

reckless ones, who have never toiled before at battle,

but ignorant of the work, eager for an unendurable task,

do you rush thoughtlessly? For your strength will not be equal

to ours and to the Danaans skilled in battle.

But for the Amazons pitiless war and horsemanship

have been dear from the first, and all the works that men attend;

therefore their warlike spirit is forever roused,

nor do they lack of men, since toil to great strength

has raised their spirit and made their knees unflinching.

And the tale is that she is the daughter of strong Ares;

therefore it befits no woman to vie with her;

or perhaps some immortal has come at our prayers.

For all men are of one race, but to different works

they turn, one to one, another to another; and that is the best

work which each, knowing it in his mind, toils at;

therefore, holding aloof from the clamorous fight,

make ready your loom within your own halls.

War will be the care of our men.

And the prospect of good will soon be ours, since we behold

the Achaeans perishing, and the great might of our men

rises; and there is no fear of evil; for the enemy

do not surround the city, pitiless, nor is there

grievous necessity that women too should fight.

So she spoke; and they obeyed her, older though she was,

and beheld the battle from afar; but still the host

Penthesileia was overcoming, and the Achaeans trembled round about,

nor was there for them any escape from groaning death;

but like bleating goats beneath the grim jaws

of a leopard they were slain, and longing held them no more for battle

but for flight, and they went one here, one there,

some flinging their armour from their shoulders to the ground,

others with their armour still, and apart from their charioteers

the horses went fleeing; and to her as she pressed on there was joy,

and great groaning of the dying; nor was there any defence

for them hard-pressed; short-lived they all became,

all whom she reached in the chill mouth of battle.

As when a great groaning storm bears down

and casts some tall trees to the ground out of their roots,

trees flowering in their bloom, and shatters others from the trunk

on high, and they lie heaped, broken upon one another;

so the great host of the Danaans was laid low in the dust

by the will of the Fates and the spear of Penthesileia.

But when the ships too were about to be set ablaze

by the hands of the Trojans, then steadfast Aias

heard the cry of woe and spoke to the son of Aeacus:

O Achilles, an immense sound has come to me

in my ears, as of a great battle joined;

but let us go, lest the Trojans, getting first to the ships,

destroy the Argives and burn down the ships;

and for us both there would be grievous reproach;

for it does not befit men born of great Zeus

to shame the holy line of our fathers, who themselves

of old, together with warlike Heracles, sacked

the Troy of Laomedon, that splendid city, with their spears;

so now too I think it will be accomplished by our

hands, since great might grows in us both.

So he spoke; and the bold strength of the son of Aeacus heeded him;

for he too had heard the groaning din in his ears.

And both rushed to their gleaming armour;

and clothed in it they stood against the throng;

and their fair armour rang loud; and their spirit raged

equal to Ares; such strength to both

did shield-shaking Atrytone give as they hastened.

And the Argives rejoiced when they saw the two mighty men

like the sons of great Aloeus,

who once said they would set high mountains upon broad Olympus,

steep Ossa and high-headed Pelion,

so that, eager, they might reach even heaven;

such did the sons of Aeacus stand forth against the baneful war,

a great joy to the longing Achaeans,

both eager to destroy the host of the enemy.

And many they overcame with their irresistible spears;

as when two lions, slayers of cattle, find

fat sheep in the thickets, apart from their herdsmen,

and kill them all together, until, having drunk the black blood,

they fill their capacious bellies with the inward parts;

so those two destroyed a boundless host of men.

There Aias slew Deiochos and warlike Hyllos,

and war-loving Eurynomos and noble Enyeus.

And the son of Peleus slew Antandre and Polemousa

and Antibrote too, and after them spirited Hippothoe,

and upon them Harmothoe; and he went against the whole host

together with the great-hearted son of Telamon; and beneath their hands

dense and strong battalions were toppled

easily and swiftly, as fire devours a shady wood

in the mountain hollows when a wind drives it on.

And when warlike Penthesileia saw them,

ranging like wild beasts through the chill battle,

she rushed against them both, like a baleful

leopard in the thickets, with a deadly heart,

dreadfully lashing its tail, that leaps against the oncoming

hunters, who, armed in their gear,

await her onset, trusting in their spears;

so the warlike men awaited Penthesileia,

lifting their spears; and round about them the bronze rang

as they moved; and first noble Penthesileia hurled

her long spear; and it struck the shield of Aeacus' son,

but glanced off, shattered, as from a rock;

for they were the immortal gifts of wise Hephaestus.

Then with her hands she aimed a second rushing javelin

against Aias, and threatened them both:

Now from my hand the spear has flown in vain;

but I think that swiftly with this one I shall destroy the strength and spirit

of you both, who boast yourselves valiant

among the Danaans; and lighter shall the misery of battle

then be for the horse-taming Trojans.

But come nearer to me in the fray, that you may see

how great might rises in the breasts of the Amazons;

for my race too is of Ares; nor did a mortal

man beget me, but Ares himself, insatiate of the war-cry;

therefore my might is far surpassing that of men.

So she spoke, exulting greatly in her heart; and she cast her spear,

the second; and they laughed, and at once its point struck

the all-silver greave of Aias. But it did not pass

within to his fair flesh, eager though it was to reach it;

for it was not fated that the point should mingle

with his blood in the groaning wars of the enemy.

And Aias gave no heed to the Amazon, but against the Trojan

throng he sprang; and he left to the son of Peleus

alone Penthesileia, since in his heart his spirit

knew that for Achilles, mighty though she was,

she would be an easy toil, like a dove to a hawk.

And she groaned greatly, her spears thrown in vain;

and mocking her the son of Peleus addressed her:

O woman, with what vain words exulting

have you come against us, longing to do battle,

we who are by far the mightiest of the heroes upon earth;

for of the line of loud-thundering Cronos' son

we boast to be born; and even swift Hector

trembled before us, if he beheld us even from afar darting

to the groaning fight; and my spear slew him,

mighty though he was; but you in your mind are utterly mad,

who have greatly dared and threatened ruin to us both

today; but your last day shall come at once;

for not even your own father Ares shall save you

from me; you shall pay an evil doom, like a hind in the mountains

that meets with a cattle-slaying lion.

Have you not heard how many sank beneath their limbs

by the streams of Xanthos under our hands?

Or did the blessed gods take away your wits

and mind, so that the pitiless Fates might engulf you?

So speaking he rushed on, drawing back with his strong hand

the long man-slaying spear, wrought by Cheiron;

and at once above the breast he wounded warlike Penthesileia

on the right; and the black blood flowed from her

in haste; and at once she sank, slack in her limbs;

and she let fall from her hand the great axe; and about her eyes

night clouded them, and pangs sank into her heart.

Yet even so she breathed again and saw her enemy,

already about to drag her down from her swift horse;

and she pondered whether, drawing the great sword in her hand,

to await the onset of swift Achilles' rush,

or, leaping quickly down from her very swift horse,

to entreat the godlike man, and to promise him at once

bronze enough and gold, which warm the hearts

of mortal men, even though any be very bold,

that with these she might soften the deadly strength of Aeacus' son;

or that, perhaps respecting her youth in his heart,

he might grant her the day of return, longing as she was to escape.

And so she pondered; but the gods cast it otherwise.

For rushing upon her the son of Peleus grew greatly angry,

and at once pierced through her and the body of her storm-footed horse;

as when one upon spits over a smoking fire

pierces the inward parts, hastening to his meal,

or as when one, casting in the mountains a groaning javelin,

a hunter, cuts a deer through the middle of the belly

swiftly, and the mighty point, flying clean through,

is fixed in the trunk of a high-leafed oak or of a pine;

so Penthesileia, together with her beautiful horse,

the son of Peleus cut clean through with his raging spear,

straight; and she swiftly mingled with the dust and with doom,

falling gracefully to the ground; nor did shame

disgrace her noble body; she was stretched along on her belly

over the long spear, quivering, and leaning on her swift horse;

as when a fir-tree, broken by the force of chill Boreas,

which the earth nurtures very tall along the long glens and the wood,

a great glory to itself, beside a spring;

so Penthesileia fell from her swift horse,

a wonder though she was; and her valour was shattered.

And when the Trojans saw her slain in the fight,

in headlong flight they rushed in terror toward the city,

grieving past telling, with great sorrow at heart.

As when over the broad sea, a wind bearing down,

sailors who have lost their ship flee from destruction,

a few, after much toil within the grievous brine,

and at last the land appears to them near, and a city,

and they, worn out with groaning labour in all their limbs,

dart out of the sea, grieving greatly for their ship

and their comrades, whom the wave drove down into dread darkness;

so the Trojans, fled from the war toward the city,

all wept for the daughter of irresistible Ares

and for the host, who perished in the groaning fight.

And over her, exulting greatly, the son of Peleus boasted:

Lie now in the dust, food for dogs and birds,

wretched one; for who beguiled you to come against me?

Surely you thought, returning from battle,

to carry off boundless gifts from aged Priam

for slaying the Argives; but this purpose of yours

the immortals did not fulfill, since we are by far the mightiest

of heroes, a great light to the Danaans, but to the Trojans a woe,

and to you, ill-fated, since the dark Fates

and your own mind drove you, leaving the works of women,

to go to the war, which even men dread.

So speaking the son of Peleus drew his ash spear

out of the swift horse and out of dread Penthesileia;

and both quivered, slain by the one spear.

And from her head he took the helmet that gleamed

like the sun's rays or like the radiance of Zeus;

and even as she lay in the dust and the blood

there was revealed beneath her lovely brows her fair face,

slain though she was. And the Argives, when they saw it, gathering round,

marvelled, since she was like the blessed gods.

For she lay in her armour upon the ground like unwearied

Artemis sleeping, child of Zeus, when she has wearied

her limbs along the long mountains, shooting swift lions;

for Cypris herself, the fair-crowned, the consort of strong Ares,

made her beautiful even among the dead,

so that she might bring some grief to the son of blameless Peleus.

And many, returning home, prayed

to sleep beside the bed of such a wife.

And Achilles too was unceasingly torn in his heart,

because he had slain her and had not led her, a divine wife,

to Phthia rich in horses, since in stature and in form

she was blameless and like the immortal goddesses.

And grief fell upon Ares' heart concerning his daughter,

his spirit stricken; and at once he leapt down from Olympus

like the dread bright-flashing thunderbolt that Zeus

sends forth, which from his unwearying hand

rushes either over the boundless sea or over the land,

gleaming, and round about it great Olympus shakes;

such was Ares, grieving at heart, through the wide air

rushing with his armour, when he heard the dread doom

of his daughter; for to him, while he was in the broad heaven,

the swift breezes, the daughters of Boreas, had told

the girl's dread death; and when he heard it, like a storm-wind

he set foot on the mountains of Ida; and beneath his feet

the long glens shook, and the deep-cleft ravines

and the rivers and all the boundless feet of Ida.

And now he would have brought a day of much groaning to the Myrmidons,

had not Zeus himself frightened him from Olympus

with dread lightnings and grievous thunderbolts,

which before his feet flew thick through the air,

flaming dreadfully; and he, looking, marked

his loud-thundering father's great roaring rebuke;

and he halted, eager though he was, upon the tumult of war.

As when from a sheer crag a long boulder,

a fierce one, together with the winds, is torn loose by the rain of Zeus,

rain it be or thunderbolt, and the glens echo

as it rolls violently, and with unwearying rush

it darts, bounding very thickly, until it reaches

level ground, and halts at once, unwilling though it be;

so the mighty son of Zeus, Ares, with unwilling spirit

halted, eager though he was, since to the ruler of the blessed

all the Olympians alike give way, because he is

far the highest of them, and his might is unspeakable.

And much wavering his swift mind urged him,

now, dreading the dread rebuke of Cronos' son

greatly enraged, to go back to heaven,

now to care nothing for his father, but with Achilles

to mingle his unwearying hands in blood. But at last his heart

remembered how many even of the sons of Zeus had been slain

in wars, sons for whom not even he himself availed as they perished;

therefore far from the Argives he went; for indeed he was destined

to lie like the Titans, overcome by the groaning thunderbolt,

if against the will of immortal Zeus he had planned otherwise.

And then the warlike sons of the stout Argives

swiftly stripped the bloodstained armour from the dead,

rushing on every side; but greatly grieved the son of Peleus,

beholding the lovely strength of the maiden in the dust;

therefore deadly pangs devoured his heart,

as much as for his comrade Patroclus, slain before.

And Thersites reviled him to his face with a base, jeering word:

O Achilles, dread in your wits, why now has some god deceived

your spirit within your breast, over a baneful Amazon,

who longed to devise many evils against us?

Yours is a heart mad for women in your breast,

and you care for her as for a prudent wife, whom with bridal gifts

you had wooed to be your wedded bride, longing to marry.

Would that in the battle she had struck you first with her spear,

since you take your fill of delight in women,

nor is there any care in your accursed heart

for glorious deeds of valour, when you behold a woman.

Wretch, where now is your noble strength and your wit?

Where the might of a blameless king? Nor do you know at all

how great a grief is wrought for the Trojans, mad for women?

For nothing is more deadly to mortals than the delight

of a bed they long for, which makes a man a fool

even though he be prudent; and toil brings glory;

for to a warrior the fame of victory and the works of Ares

are delightful; but to the coward in war the bed of women is dear.

So he spoke, reviling greatly; and the son of Peleus

raged at him in his heart; and at once with his strong hand

he struck him on the jaw and the ear; and all together

his teeth poured out upon the ground, and he himself fell

headlong; and from his mouth the blood gushed

in a stream; and swiftly from his limbs the feeble spirit fled,

the spirit of that worthless man; and the host of the Achaeans rejoiced;

for he had reviled them utterly with his evil railing,

himself a thing of shame; for he was the disgrace of the Danaans.

And someone among the war-swift Argives spoke thus:

It is not good for a meaner man to insult kings,

openly or in secret, since dread wrath attends it;

there is Justice, and Ate punishes the shameless tongue,

who ever for mortals heaps grief upon grief.

So spoke one of the Danaans; and grieving in his heart

the spirited son of Peleus spoke a word like this:

Lie now in the dust, forgetful of your follies;

for it is not right for a base man to strive against his better;

so once before you stirred the patient heart of Odysseus

grievously, uttering countless reproaches;

but not such did the son of Peleus show himself to you,

who have loosed your spirit and no more with a heavy hand

struck you; but a pitiless doom has covered you,

and by your own feebleness you have lost your life; but away from the Achaeans

begone, and among the dead make your railing speeches.

So spoke the fearless son of the bold-hearted Aeacides.

And the son of Tydeus alone among the Argives with Achilles

grew angry over fallen Thersites, because

he boasted to be of his blood, since the one was the mighty son

of noble Tydeus, the other of godlike Agrios,

of Agrios, who was the brother of divine Oineus;

and Oineus begot a warlike son among the Danaans,

Tydeus; and his child was strong Diomedes.

Therefore he was angry over the slaying of Thersites.

And now he would have raised his hands against the son of Peleus,

had not the best of the Achaeans' sons restrained him,

comforting him much in a throng; and likewise

they restrained the son of Peleus on the other side; for indeed they were

already, the best of the Argives, about to strive even with swords;

for an evil wrath was urging them on.

But they obeyed the soothing words of their comrades.

And the kings, the sons of Atreus, greatly pitying

noble Penthesileia, and marvelling at her themselves,

gave her to the Trojans to bear to the city of glorious Ilos

together with her armour, when they marked the message

Priam sent; for in his heart he longed

to lay the strong-hearted maiden, together with her armour and her horse,

in the great tomb of wealthy Laomedon.

And he heaped up a pyre before the city,

high and broad; and above it he set the maiden

with many possessions, all that it befits a slain

and well-dowered queen to be burned with in the fire;

and the swift might of Hephaestus consumed her,

the deadly flame; and the people, standing round about, here and there,

quenched the pyre swiftly with fragrant wine.

And gathering her bones they poured over them in plenty sweet

oil, and set them in a hollow chest; and round about them

they laid the rich fat above of an ox that excelled

in the herds grazing on the mountains of Ida.

And the Trojans, wailing for her as for a dear daughter,

grieving, buried her beside the well-built wall,

upon a jutting tower, by the bones of Laomedon,

doing honour to Ares and to Penthesileia herself.

And beside her they buried the Amazons, all who

following her to the fight were overcome by the Argives;

for the sons of Atreus did not grudge them a much-wept

tomb, but to the warlike Trojans they granted

to draw them out from the missiles, together with the slain and the others;

for there is no wrath against the dead, but pitiable

are enemies who are no more, when their spirit has perished.

And the Argives apart gave to the fire the many heads

of heroes who there were slain together and overcome

at the hands of the Trojans in the mouth of battle,

grieving greatly for the slain. But above the rest

they mourned for noble Podarces; for in nothing was he less than his noble

brother Protesilaos in battle;

but the one already before lay slain beneath Hector,

noble Protesilaos; and the other, smitten by the spear of Penthesileia,

cast grievous grief upon the Argives;

therefore the throng of the dead they buried apart,

but for him alone, toiling round about, they raised

a conspicuous tomb, since he was bold in spirit.

And apart the wretched body of worthless Thersites

they buried, and came to the well-prowed ships,

honouring greatly in their hearts the son of Aeacus, Achilles.

And when shining dawn had gone down beneath Ocean,

and over the land the divine night was spread,

then in the tents of wealthy Agamemnon

the mighty son of Peleus feasted; and with him the other chiefs

took their delight in the festival, until divine dawn came.