Book 14
Late Antiquity Quintus Smyrnaeus Greek- And then from Ocean the golden-throned goddess Dawn sprang up to the sky; and Chaos received the night. And the Argives by force laid waste well-fenced Troy and plundered her boundless wealth, like torrent rivers, which are borne from the mountains with a roar when the rain is stirred up, and many tall trees and all that grows in the hills, with the very headlands, they bear into the sea; so the Danaans, having sacked beneath fire the Trojan city, bore all the goods to their swift-bounding ships. And together they drove off the women of Troy from this side and that, some still unwed and inexperienced of marriage, and one new-subdued to love beneath the warriors, others again grey-haired, and others younger than these, whose children they had torn from their breasts, still craving with their lips the last of the milk. Among these Menelaus himself, in their midst, led his own wife from the burning city, having accomplished a great deed; and joy and shame held him. And good-ashen-speared Agamemnon led off noble Cassandra; and Andromache the noble son of Achilles; but Odysseus dragged Hecuba by force; and from her eyes thronging tears, like a spring, poured down; and her limbs trembled, and her heart was distraught with fear, and she had torn her hair from her grey head; and much ash lay upon her, which she had heaped abundantly with her hands from the hearth as Priam perished and the city blazed; and she groaned greatly, when the day of slavery enwrapped her, dragged off against her will; and one led one wailing woman, another another, of the Trojan women, by force to their ships; and they, wailing piteously, cried aloud, one here, one there, lamenting most grievously together with their infant children; as when, together with white-tusked swine, men drive the young from the former steading to another steading in the rising of a storm, and they, grievously mingled together, squeal continually to one another; so the women of Troy, subdued, groaned beneath the Danaans; and queen and handmaid alike bore equal necessity. But Helen no wailing enwrapped; rather shame sat upon her dark eyes, and above her fair cheeks blushed red; and within her the heart beat unspeakably in her breast, lest, as she went to the dark ships, the Achaeans should maltreat her; therefore, trembling, she quivered in her dear heart. And, covering her head above with a veil, she followed in the footstep of her husband as he went, blushing in her cheek for shame, like Cypris, when the heavenly ones, in the embrace of Ares, plainly perceived her dishonouring her own bed in the close-set bonds of skilful Hephaestus, in which she lay, grieving in heart and ashamed before the throng of the blessed ones gathered there, and before Hephaestus himself; for it is terrible, in the eyes of one's husband, to be plainly beheld in shame, for womankind. Like her in form and in undefiled shame went Helen with the captive Trojan women, she too, to the well-oared ships of the Argives; and around her the host marvelled, beholding the splendour and the lovely beauty of the blameless woman; nor did any dare to provoke her, neither secretly with abusive words, nor yet openly, but they looked upon her as a goddess, gladly; for to all in their longing she appeared. And as, to men wandering over the unwearied sea, their own fatherland appears at last to their longing, and they, having escaped both the sea and death, stretch out their hands to their country, rejoicing boundlessly in heart; so all the Danaans around rejoiced; for no longer in them was there memory of grievous toil nor of turmoil; for such a mind Cytherea made in them all, bringing grace to bright-eyed Helen and to Zeus the father. And then, when he saw his dear city laid waste, Xanthus, still breathing the bloody din, mourned together with the Nymphs, since evil had fallen on Troy from somewhere, and laid low the city of Priam; as when the dry cornfield, with hail bearing down, is cut short, and all the ears are stripped away by the grievous blast, and the stalk is poured on the ground, the fruit lost in vain upon the soil, grievously, and great grief comes to the wretched lord; so also to the heart of Xanthus came grief as Ilium was left desolate; and misery held him ever, immortal though he was; and tall Ida groaned around, and Simoeis; and far off all the haunts of Ida mourned, wailing for the city of Priam. And the Argives went to their ships, greatly exulting, hymning the mighty valour of their glorious victory, and now the holy race of the blessed ones, and now their own daring spirit and the imperishable work of Epeius. And song reached the sky through the air, like the cry of jackdaws, boundless, when a fair day comes out of the deadly winter, and the air is calm; so the heart of those by the ships rejoiced greatly within . . . and the immortals throughout the sky took delight, all who were helpers in their hearts of the war-loving Argives; but others were vexed, all who defended the Trojans, beholding the city of Priam ablaze; but they, though longing to help, could not avail beyond Fate; for not even the son of Cronos himself, beyond doom, could easily thrust Fate aside, he who of all the immortals has the most might, and from Zeus all things come. And the Argives, setting on the altars many thigh-pieces of oxen, burned them together with the cleft wood, and hastening about the altars poured sweet wine over the blazing offerings, bringing grace to the gods, since they had accomplished a great deed. And much at the heart-cheering banquet they glorified all who had been received with their arms in the wooden horse; and they marvelled at glorious Sinon, because he had endured the much-grievous outrage of the foe; and all of them honoured him with song and with boundless gifts; and he in his heart rejoiced, with steadfast spirit, at the victory of the Argives, and grieved not at his own outrage; for to a prudent and thoughtful man far better is glory than gold or beauty or any other of the good things that are or shall be for men. And they beside the ships, with fearless hearts, supped, telling each other continually: "We have accomplished the end of the long war; we have won broad glory, having taken with the foe their great city; but, O Zeus, grant us also the return in our longing." So they spoke; but the father did not grant return to all. And among them one, skilled . . . . . . for no longer in them was there dread of the ill-sounding war, but to the works of good order they turned, and to lovely good cheer. And he indeed first, to their longing, sang how the host had gathered to the holy ground of Aulis, and how the great might of unwearied Peleus' son went over the sea and sacked twelve cities, and eleven again over the boundless land, all that he wrought about lord Telephus and mighty Eetion, and how he slew overweening Cycnus, and all that the Achaeans in the wrath of Achilles wrought as they fought, and how he dragged Hector about the walls of his own fatherland, and how he took Penthesileia in the fray, and how he subdued the son of Tithonus, and how strong Ajax slew good-ashen-speared Glaucus, and how the glorious man Eurypylus the son of swift Aeacides slew, and how the shafts of Philoctetes laid low Paris, and all the men who went within the guileful horse, and how, having sacked the city of god-born Priam, they feasted, far apart from evil turmoils. And this man sang one thing, that man another, whatever was in his heart. But when, as they feasted, the middle of night came round, then indeed from supper and from the strong drink all ceased, and took care-banishing sleep; for the strength of yesterday's toil overcame them all; and so, though they had longed to feast all night long, they ceased, since sleep against their will held them fast; and one slept here, another there; but in his own hut the son of Atreus conversed with his fair-haired wife; for not yet had sleep fallen upon their eyes, but Cypris was busy about their hearts, that they might remember their old marriage-bed, and cast their grief away. And first Helen spoke a word like this: "Do not now, O Menelaus, set wrath against me in your heart; for it was not of my own will that I left your home and bed, but the might of Alexander and the sons of Troy snatched me away, coming while you were far off, and, though I was utterly eager to perish wretchedly either by a grievous noose or by a groaning sword, they kept me in the halls, comforting me with words, grieving for you and for my well-loved daughter; by her, then, and by our marriage of much joy and by yourself I beseech you, to forget your hateful anger against me." To her as she spoke wise Menelaus answered: "No longer now remember it, but hold your griefs in your heart; but let the black house of forgetfulness shut all these things within; for it is not fitting to remember evil deeds any longer." So he spoke; and joy seized her, and fear rushed from her heart; for she hoped that her husband would cease from grievous wrath; and she cast her arms about him; and from them both alike sweet tears flowed down their eyelids as they wept. And gladly the two of them, reclining beside one another, remembered in their hearts their own marriage; as when ivy and the cultivated vine cast themselves about one another round the trunks, and never can the force of the wind hurl them apart; so the two of them held to one another, longing for love. But when sleep, free from harm, came upon them too, then the strong heart of godlike Achilles stood over the head of his son, just as he was when alive, when he was a grief to the Trojans, a joy to the Achaeans. And he kissed his neck and his gleaming eyes gladly, and, comforting him, spoke: "Hail, my child, and do not rend your heart with grief because of my death, since with the blessed gods I am now a fellow at the hearth; but restrain your heart, sore-tried for me, and set my strength to the full in your spirit. Ever stand as foremost of the Argives, yielding to none in manhood; but in the assembly to the elder men give heed; and then all will call you wise. Honour the blameless men, all whose mind is steadfast; for to the noble a noble man is dear, and to the harsh, grievous. If you think good thoughts, you will achieve good deeds too; for that man never reached the goals of Virtue who has not a righteous mind; because her trunk is hard to climb, and far up to the clear sky her branches grow; but those whom strength attends and toil, from labour reap the much-rejoicing fruit, having climbed up to the glorious shoot of fair-crowned Virtue. But come, be glorious, and in your prudent wits neither in calamity wholly rend your heart with grief, nor in good fortune greatly rejoice; but let your mind be gentle toward your dear comrades and your sons and your wife, remembering in your heart that near to men are the gates of deadly doom and the houses of the dead; for the race of men is like the flowers of the grass, the flowers of spring; some wither, some grow; therefore be gentle. And to the Argives say, and most of all to Atreus' son Agamemnon, if in heart they remember all I toiled about the city of Priam, and all I plundered before I came to the Trojan soil, let them now, in my longing, lead to my tomb, from the spoil of Priam, fair-robed Polyxena . . . that they may sacrifice her swiftly, since I am wroth at them yet more even than before about Briseis; and the swell of the sea I will stir, and cast storm upon storm, that, wasting away by their own follies, they may remain here a long time, until to me they pour libations in their longing greatly for return; but herself, if they wish, when they have taken her life, the maiden, I do not at all grudge them to bury far off." So speaking, he darted away, like a swift breeze; and at once he went to the Elysian plain, where is made, from the highest heaven, a descent and an ascent for the immortal blessed ones; and he, when sleep left him, remembered his father; and his noble mind was gladdened. But when to the broad sky rose Dawn, scattering the night, and earth and air appeared, then the sons of the Achaeans started up from their beds eager for return, and the ships into the depths of the sea they were dragging, exulting in their hearts, had not the mighty son of Achilles checked them in their haste, and called them to assembly, and spoke his father's command: "Hear me, dear children of the war-steadfast Argives, the charge of my glorious father, which he told me yesterday in my bed as I slept through the darkness; for he said he was among the everlasting immortals; and he bade you and the king, the son of Atreus, that from the war you should lead a most lovely prize, fair-robed Polyxena, to his dank tomb; and he said that, having sacrificed her, you should bury her far off; but if, heedless of him, you should sail the sea, he threatened, raising adverse waves over the deep, to keep the host together with the ships here a long time." So he spoke; and they obeyed, and prayed to him as to a god; for indeed in the deep the wave grew with the storm, broader and more close-set than before, as the wind raged; and the great sea was stirred up by the hands of Poseidon; for to strong Achilles he brought grace; and swiftly all the blasts rushed upon the sea; and the Danaans, praying greatly to Achilles, all together spoke thus to one another: "Truly Achilles was of the race of great Zeus; therefore now too he is a god, even if before he was among us; for deathless time does not blot out the race of the blessed." So speaking, they went back to the tomb of Achilles; and they led her, as a calf to the offerings of an immortal, which the herdsmen have torn from its mother in the thickets, and it, lowing loud, laments, grieving in heart; so then the daughter of Priam wailed bitterly in the hands of the foe; and abundant tears poured from her; as when, beneath a strong press, the fruit of the olive, not yet blackened with the wintry rain, pours much oil, and the gear creaks loud beneath the cords, as the men force it; so also from the daughter of much-enduring Priam, dragged to the tomb of pitiless Achilles, the dire tears, with groans, ran down her eyelids; and her bosom beneath was filled; and her skin was wet, truly like to costly ivory. And then, upon her grievous griefs, a more bitter pain fell into the heart of long-suffering Hecuba; and in her the spirit remembered a wretched and grievous dream, which she had seen sleeping in the night gone by; for indeed she thought that on the tomb of godlike Achilles she stood lamenting, and her hair to the ground was poured from her head, and from both her breasts ran red blood to the earth, and drenched the tomb; fearing for this, and foreseeing great woe, she wailed piteously, and over the lament cried aloud; as when a bitch, lamenting before the house, sends forth a long howling, newly torn from her milk, whose infant young, before they could look upon the light, the masters have cast away, to be prey for the birds, and she, now with whining laments, now again with howling, and a hateful cry rushes through the air; so Hecuba, wailing, cried aloud over her daughter: "Ah me, what first, what last, grieving in heart, shall I wail, encompassed with many evils, my sons or my husband, who have suffered dire and unlooked-for things, or my city or my disgraced daughters, or my own day of necessity and slavery? Because the terrible Fates have entangled me in many evils. My child, for you too, dire and unlooked-for things the Fates have spun, even for yourself; and from your marriage they have cast the Wedding-song, though it was near, and have brought about destruction, unbearable and grievous and unspeakable; for indeed Achilles even in death still warms his heart with our blood; would that, with you, my dear child, on this day the earth had gaped and covered me, before I saw your doom." As she spoke, ceaselessly down her eyelids poured the tears; for she had grief upon grief, grievously. And when they came to the tomb of holy Achilles, then his dear son, drawing his swift sword, with his left hand held back the maiden, and with his right, touching the tomb, spoke a word like this: "Hear, father, your son who prays, and the other Argives, and be no longer grievously wroth with us; for now we will accomplish all that you desire in your heart; but be gracious to us, granting, to us who pray, swiftly a heart-cheering return." So speaking, he drove the deadly sword through the maiden's white throat; and at once the much-loved life left her, as she wailed piteously at the last of her living; and she fell forward to the ground; and beneath her neck all was reddened, like snow, which in the mountains, of a boar or a bear pierced through by a javelin, swiftly grows red above with crimson blood. And the Argives at once gave her to be borne to the city, to the house of godlike Antenor, because he among the Trojans, for his own noble son Eurymachus, had reared her before as his bride. And when he had buried the glorious daughter of Priam near his own house, beside the sacred tomb of Ganymede and over against the temple of the Unwearied One, then the wave ceased, and the storm was lulled, the terrible storm, and calm soothed the swell. And they swiftly went to their ships, greatly exulting, hymning the holy race of the blessed and Achilles. And at once they took their meal, having cut the thighs of oxen for the immortals; and lovely sacrifice was everywhere; and they, in silver and in golden cups, drank, drawing sweet wine; and the heart in them rejoiced, as they longed to come to their own land. But when they had taken their fill of supper and the feast, then the son of Neleus spoke to them in their longing: "Hear, friends, you who have escaped the long din of war, that I may tell a word pleasing to your hearts in your longing; for now is the season of heart-cheering return; but let us go; for indeed the mighty heart of Achilles has ceased from its grievous wrath; and the Earth-shaker has checked the mighty wave; and gentle breezes blow; and no longer does the wave rear up; but come, the ships into the swell of the sea let us draw, and bethink us of return." So he spoke to their longing; and they made ready for the voyage. There a portent, a marvel to men on earth, appeared, because the wife of much-bewept Priam from a mortal became a piteous bitch; and around her the host marvelled, gathering; and all her limbs to stone a god turned, a great wonder even for men to come; and her, by the promptings of Calchas, the Achaeans set on a swift ship across the Hellespont. And swiftly, drawing their ships into the sea, they cast in all the goods, all that, coming to Ilium, they had plundered before, having subdued the dwellers round about, and all that they brought from Ilium itself, in which most they rejoiced, since they were very many; and with them many captive women followed, sorely grieving in heart; and they themselves came within the ships. But to them Calchas did not follow as they hastened into the sea, but the other Argives too he kept back; for about the Capherean rocks he feared a dire destruction rushing upon the Danaans. But they obeyed him not at all; for an evil fate beguiled the minds of men; and alone, well knowing the prophecies, Amphilochus, the swift son of blameless Amphiaraus, remained together with wise Calchas; for to them it was fated, both of them, far from their own land, to the cities of the Pamphylians and Cilicians to come. But these things the gods set for afterward; and the Achaeans loosed their ships' cables from the land, and their anchors swiftly raised; and the Hellespont rang as they hastened; and the ships were washed about by the sea; and around them, about the prows, lay many arms of the slain; and above, tokens of victory, countless, were hung aloft; and they crowned the ships both with garlands and with spears and with shields, with which they fought against the foe; and from the prows the lords poured into the dark sea much wine to the gods, praying to the blessed ones to grant a return free from grief; and their prayers were mingled with the winds, and far from the ships in vain were borne off together with the clouds and the air. And the captive women gazed back toward Ilium, grieving in heart, and much, lamenting, they wailed, hiding from the Argives the great grief in their hearts; and some held their hands about their knees; and others their foreheads propped upon their hands, the wretched ones; and others their children held in their arms; and these did not yet groan for the day of slavery nor for their fatherland's woes, but at the breast held their hearts; for far from sorrows is an infant's heart. And the hair of all was loosed, and their grievous breasts were torn about with their nails; and on their cheeks the tears lay dry, and others above flowed down thick from their eyelids; and they beheld their wretched fatherland still wholly ablaze, and the much smoke rising; and about glorious Cassandra, gazing, they all looked, remembering her grievous prophecy; and she laughed at them as they wailed, though grieving herself at the hateful woes of her fatherland. And of the Trojans, all who escaped from the pitiless war, gathering through the city, laboured about the corpses, eager to bury them; and to the grievous work Antenor led them; and on a single pyre they laid many. And the Argives, exulting ceaselessly in their hearts, now with their oars clove the dark water, now with eager haste made ready the sails on their ships; and behind them swiftly was left all Dardania and the tomb of Achilles; and they in their hearts, though rejoicing, remembering the slain, with one mind grievously grieved, and toward a foreign land they cast their eyes. And it appeared to them far from the ships, receding; and they swiftly were borne past the surf of sea-girt Tenedos; and they passed Chryse and the holy seat of Sminthian Phoebus and divine Cilla; and windy Lesbos appeared; and they rounded the cape swiftly of Lectum, where is the last headland of Ida. And the swelling sails roared round; and about the prows the dark swell crashed; and the long waves were darkened; and the sea-paths whitened over the deep. And now the Argives would have come to the holy soil of Hellas, all of them, over the deep of the sea unharmed, had not the daughter of loud-thundering Zeus, Athena, been wroth with them; and when they came near windy Euboea, then, devising a heavy and pitiless doom for the king of the Locrians, and chafing unbearably, she stood beside Zeus, lord of the gods, and spoke a word apart from the immortals; and her heart could not contain its wrath: "Father Zeus, no longer are the deeds men devise endurable to the gods, men who heed in their minds neither yourself nor the other blessed ones, since now vengeance no longer follows wretched men, but often the noble man is borne down more by woes, and has unceasing misery; therefore no one any longer reveres justice, nor is there shame among men; I for my part will neither in Olympus be, nor be called yours any longer, unless of the Achaeans I take vengeance for their recklessness, since indeed within my temple the son of Oileus greatly transgressed against me, nor did he pity Cassandra, stretching her heedless hands toward me many times, nor did he fear my might, nor in his heart did he reverence the immortal, but wrought an unbearable deed. Therefore now, in your immortal heart, do not grudge me to do as my spirit desires, that others too, the warriors, may tremble at the gods' clear threat." To her as she spoke the father answered with gentle words: "My child, I in no way oppose you for the sake of the Achaeans, but all the gear, which before, bringing grace to me, with their unwearied hands the Cyclopes fashioned, I will give you in your longing; but you, with your strong heart, yourself stir a grievous storm upon the Argives." So speaking, the swift lightning and the deadly thunderbolt and the groaning thunder, near the fearless maiden he set; and her heart was greatly gladdened within. And at once she put on the rushing aegis, all-gleaming, unbreakable and strong and a wonder to the immortals; for upon it was wrought the head of grim Medusa, terrible; and strong serpents, breathing the rush of unwearied fire, fierce, were above it; and the whole aegis rang about the breast of the queen, as when the boundless sky roars with the lightnings. And she took her father's arms, which no god lifts save great Zeus; and she shook tall Olympus; and she poured together the clouds and all the air above; and night was poured about the earth, and the sea grew dark; and Zeus looked on and greatly rejoiced; and the broad sky moved about the feet of the goddess; and the air rang round, as when unwearied Zeus rushes eagerly to the fray. And straightway, to be borne over the misty sea, she sent from heaven to Aeolus immortal Iris, that he might send all the winds together, bearing down, to come near the rugged heights of Caphereus, ceaselessly driven, and to swell up the sea, maddened with grievous blasts. And she, hearing, swiftly darted, wrapped about with clouds; you would have said there was fire together with the air and the black water. And she came to Aeolia, where, of the winds that blow fierce, the caves are, fitted about with hard rocks, hollow and echoing; and close by are the halls of Aeolus, son of Hippotas. And she found him within with his wife and twelve children; and she told him all that Athena was devising against the return of the Danaans. And he did not disobey, but, going outside the halls, with his unwearied hands he struck a great mountain with his trident, where the winds, loud-sounding and ill-sounding, were housed in a hollow cavern; and ever a cry rang round, bellowing grievously; and by force he broke the height. And they at once poured out; and he bade them all, gathering a dark tempest together, to blow, that the grievous swell of the rising sea might cover the heights of Caphereus. And they swiftly arose before they heard from their king all his word; and as they rushed, the sea groaned unbearably; and like to steep mountains the waves were borne, one here, one there. And the heart of the Achaeans was broken in their breasts, since the wave now bore the ship high through the air, and now again bore them, as if rolling down a cliff, into the misty depths; and a force unbearable ever spurted up the sand as the surge parted. And they, smitten with helplessness, neither upon the oar could lay a hand in their dismay, nor the sails, strong though they longed, could haul up about the yards, as they broke from the winds, nor steer back again to the voyage; for grievous storms drove on around them; nor had the helmsmen any longer strength of the ships with their skilled hands swiftly to ply the steering-oars; for all things this way and that the evil blasts confounded. Nor was there any hope of life, because dark night together with the great storm and the dire wrath of the immortals arose; for Poseidon stirred up the pitiless sea, bringing grace to his brother's glorious daughter, who herself too, from above, raging pitilessly, rushed amid the lightnings; and Zeus thundered from heaven, glorifying his child in his heart; and all around the islands and the mainlands were flooded by the sea, not far from Euboea, where most the deity wrought, upon pitiless griefs, fresh griefs, for the Argives. And groaning and wailing throughout the ships arose of the perishing; and the timbers of the ships crashed as they broke; for they, crowded close upon one another, ever shattered together; and toil unending arose. And some, eager with their oars to thrust off the ships that rushed upon them, with the very timbers, wretched, fell into the great deep, and beneath pitiless doom died, because upon them from this side and that bore down the long timbers of the ships; and the bodies of all were crushed together grievously; and others, fallen in the ships, lay like to the dead; and others, by necessity, swam, clinging to the well-polished oars; and others again floated upon the planks; and the brine roared from the depth, so that the sea and the sky and the land too appeared all joined together to one another. And she of Olympus, the loud-thundering Unwearied One, in no way shamed her father's might; and around her the air rang. And she, bringing wrath and woe to Ajax, cast a thunderbolt upon his ship; and at once, this way and that, she scattered it in little pieces; and earth and air rang round; and all of encircling Amphitrite was swept over. And they fell out of the ship in a throng; and around them the long waves were borne; and in the lightnings of the queen a gleam flashed, darting through the darkness; and they, gulping the undrinkable brine of the much-sounding sea, breathing out their lives, were borne over the deep. And to the captive women, even as they perished, came joy; and some of them sank into the sea, casting their arms about their children, the wretched ones; and others grievously cast their hands about the heads of the foe, with whom, baleful, they hastened to perish, taking vengeance on the Danaans, worthy of their own outrage; and she, looking down from above, rejoiced in her heart, noble Tritogeneia. And Ajax now swam about a timber of the ship, now again with his hands traversed the briny depths, like to the unwearied Titan in his overweening might; and the briny swell was cloven about the strong hands of the high-hearted man; and the gods, beholding him, marvelled at his manhood and strength; and about him the wave now bore him huge, as upon the peak of a high mountain through the air, now again from on high, as in ravines, hid him; but he his hands wearied not, much-enduring; and many on this side and that, quenched, the thunderbolts crackled into the sea; for not yet did the daughter of loud-thundering Zeus devise to subdue his spirit with doom, much though she was wroth, before he had endured many evils and toiled utterly in griefs; therefore in the deep misery long laid him low, tormented on every side; for round about boundless evils the Fates set about the man; but necessity breathed strength into him; and he said that, even if all the Olympians came together into one, in wrath, and raised the whole sea, he would escape; but in no way did he escape the gods' threat; for the overweening Earth-shaker was wroth with him, when he saw him clinging with his hand to the rock of Gyrae, and he was greatly enraged at him; and he shook the sea together with the boundless land; and everywhere round the cliffs of Caphereus were thrown into turmoil; and the grievous surf, beaten, crashed with the fierce swell of the wrathful lord; and he broke off into the sea a broad rock, which that man was grasping with his hands. And as he writhed about the crags for a very long while, his hands were stripped, and blood ran beneath his nails; and the murmuring wave ever, as it was stirred about him, whitened with foam his head and shaggy chin; and now he would have escaped his evil doom, had not against him . . . breaking the earth beneath, he hurled up a peak; as before, against great Enceladus, wise Pallas, lifting up the Sicilian island, cast it down, which still ever burns beneath the unwearied Giant breathing smoking fire within the earth; so the king of the Locrians the height of the mountain covered, the wretched man, falling down from above, and weighed down the strong man; and about him black destruction of death came upon him, subdued together by land and by the barren sea. And so also the other Achaeans were borne over the great gulf, some on their ships in dismay, others fallen outside the ships; and deadly misery held them all; for some of the ships were borne sidelong in the sea, others, turned over, with keel uppermost; and of some the masts were broken off from the beams as the wind drove on; and of others the swift storms scattered all the timbers; and others into the great deep sank beneath, as the boundless rain bore down, nor did they withstand the fierce water of the sea together with the rain of Zeus, mingled; for like a river the air flowed unceasing; and below the divine sea raged. And one said: "Surely such a storm came upon men once, when the unspeakable rain of Deucalion came, and the earth became sea, and the deep poured over all." So spoke one of the Danaans, dismayed in heart at the storm, grievous; and many perished; and about the dead the great swell of the sea was filled, and all the shores were thronged; for the wave spat out many onto the dry land; and about the ships' timbers all of heavy-roaring Amphitrite it covered utterly; and the wave appeared in the midst. And one drew this evil doom, another that; some over the broad sea, as the brine was stirred, unbearable, and others on the rocks, having shattered their ships, perished wretchedly by the contriving of Nauplius; for he, greatly wroth for his son, as the storm arose and the Argives perished, though grieving, greatly rejoiced, because to him the god granted vengeance swiftly, and he saw the hated throng tormented in the deep, and to his own father much he prayed that all might perish together with the ships, sunk beneath. And Poseidon heard him well, and brought them all near the dark swell; and he, like a mountain-mule, with his hand a pine, blazing, raised aloft; and by guile he brought the Achaeans near, hoping to reach the well-harboured seat of havens; for terribly about the hard rocks they were subdued, with their very ships; and upon their evil a more bitter pain they endured, dashed against the grievous rocks in the swift night; and few escaped doom, whom there saved either a god or some helping deity; but Athena now in her heart greatly rejoiced, now again grieved for wise Odysseus, because he was to suffer many pains by the threat of Poseidon, who then, in his unwearied heart utterly grudging the walls and towers of the mighty Argives, which they had toiled to make a defence against the hateful war-cry of the Trojans, swiftly flooded the whole sea over them, all that comes down from the Euxine to the Hellespont, and cast it on the shores of Troy; and from above rained Zeus, bringing grace to the glorious Earth-shaker; nor indeed was the Far-worker free from toil, but from the Idaean mountains all the streams he gathered into one place, and flooded the work of the Achaeans; and the sea was swept over, and still the roaring torrents went, grievously swollen with the rain of Zeus, which the dark swell of much-groaning Amphitrite kept back from coming over the sea, before they had laid in ashes all the walls of the Danaans grievously; and Poseidon himself broke the earth beneath, and there gushed up boundless water and mud and sand; and with his strong might he shook Sigeum; and the shores roared loud, and the foundations of Dardania, and, made unseen and sunk beneath, the boundless rampart was hidden, and it sank within the earth as it parted wide; and the sand alone still appeared as the sea drew back, and from the loud-roaring shores it was stretched out, far from the beach. But these things, I think, the evil purpose of the immortals accomplished; and they in their ships, the Argives, sailed, all whom the storm had scattered; and one came one way, another another, where the god led each, all who over the sea escaped the baleful blasts.