Thursday, 17 February 2011

'AMOR': MISCELLANEOUS LATIN EXTRACTS

Introduction.


The extracts below on the subject of "Love" are taken from a section in the "Cambridge Latin Anthology", Cambridge University Press, (1996).


1.  How many kisses? (Catullus: Carmen 7.)


quaeris, quot mihi basiationes
tuae, Lesbia, sint satis superque.
quam magnus numerus Libyssae harenae
lasarpiciferis iacet Cyrenis
oraculum Iovis inter aestuosi
et Batti veteris sacrum sepulcrum;
aut quam sidera multa, cum tacet nox,
furtivos hominum vident amores:
tam te basia multa basiare
vesano satis et super Catullo est,
quae nec pernumerare curiosi
possint nec mala fascinare lingua.


You ask how many of your kisses are enough and more than enough for me. As many as the number of grains of sand in Libya that lie in silphium-bearing Cyrene, between the oracle of sweltering Jupiter and the sacred tomb of old Battus, or as many as the stars that see the secret love-affairs of men, when night is silent, so many kisses are enough and more than enough for mad Catullus to kiss you, (kisses) which neither the inquisitive can count nor (can) an evil  spell bewitch.

2.  Can she be faithful? (Catullus: Carmen 109.)


iucundum, mea vita, mihi proponis amorem
   hunc nostrum inter nos perpetuumque fore.
di magni, facite ut vere promittere possit
   atque id sincere dicat et ex animo,
ut liceat nobis tota perducere vita
   aeternum hoc sanctae foedus amicitiae. 

You declare to me, my life, that this love of ours will be sweet and everlasting between us. Great gods, grant that she can promise truly and let her say it sincerely and from the heart, so that it may be allowed to us that this life-long pact of holy friendship extends through our whole life.

3.  Conflicting emotions. (Catullus: Carmen 85.)


odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris.
   nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.  

I hate and I love. Perhaps you ask why I do this. I do not know, but I feel (it) is happening and I am being tortured.

4.  Contradictions. (Martial: Epigrams XII. 46.)


difficilis facilis, iucundus acerbus es idem:
   nec tecum possum vivere nec sine te.

You are likewise awkward (and) easy-going, pleasant (and) harsh: I can neither live with you nor without you.

5.  Ovid picks a favourite at the races. (Ovid: Amores III, Carmen 2.)


non ego nobilium sedeo studiosus equorum;
   cui tamen ipsa faves, vincat ut ille, precor.
ut loquerer tecum, veni, tecumque sederem,
   ne tibi non notus, quem facis, esset amor.
tu cursus spectas, ego te: spectemus uterque
   quod iuvat atque oculos pascat uterque suos.
o, cuicumque faves, felix agitator equorum!
   ergo illi curae contigit esse tuae?
hoc mihi contingat, sacro de carcere missis
   insistam forti mente vehendus equis,
et modo lora dabo, modo verbere terga notabo,
   nunc stringam metas interiore rota.
si mihi currenti fueris conspecta, morabor,
   deque meis manibus lora remissa fluent.

I am not sitting (here) keen on thoroughbred horses; however, I am praying that the one which you yourself favour may win. I have come to talk with you, and to sit with you, so that the love which you cause (lit. make) should not be unknown (lit. not known) to you. You look at the race, I (look at) you: let each of us look at what pleases (us), and let each of us feast our eyes. O whomever you favour, (may) the driver of the horses be lucky! So, has he had the good luck (lit. has it happened to him) that he is of concern to you?  If I should have this good luck (lit. if this should happen to me), I should press on with a resolute mind, carried along by the horses despatched from the sacred starting gate, and I should both slacken the reins and mark their backs with the whip, (and) now I should graze the turning posts with the inner wheel. (But), if you are noticed by me as I race (lit. racing), I should slow down and the slackened reins would drop from my hands.

6.  Pyrrha. (Horace: Odes I, Carmen 5.)

quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa
perfusus liquidis urget odoribus
   grato, Pyrrha, sub antro?
      cui flavam religas comam.


simplex munditiis? heu quotiens fidem
mutatosque deos flebit et aspera
   nigris aequora ventis
      emirabitur insolens,


qui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea,
qui semper vacuam, semper amabilem
   sperat, nescius aurae
      fallacis. miseris quibus


intemptata nites. me tabula sacer
votiva paries indicat uvida
   suspendisse potenti
      vestimenta maris deo.


Which slender boy, drenched in liquid perfume, makes love to you, Pyrrha, amid many a rose deep inside a welcoming cave? For whom do you, simple in elegance, tie up that blonde hair? Alas! how often he will weep  at the (broken) promise and the changeable gods, and, inexperienced (as he is), he will wonder at the sea (made) rough by black winds, (he) who now credulously enjoys you, golden (in your love), (he) who, unaware of the treacherous breeze, hopes (you) will be ever available, ever lovable. (They are) wretched to whom you sparkle, untried. The sacred wall with votive tablet declares that I have hung up my wet clothing to the god with power over the sea (i.e. Neptune).

7.  Alcyone fears for her husband Ceyx who has to go on a journey. (Ovid: Metamorphoses XI, lines 415-424; 427-429; 439-443.)

consilii tamen ante sui, fidissima, certam
te facit, Alcyone; cui protinus intima frigus
ossa receperunt, buxoque simillimus ora
pallor obit, lacrimisque genae maduere profusis.
ter conata loqui, ter fletibus ora rigavit,
singultuque pias interrumpente querellas
"quae meas culpa tuam" dixit "carissime, mentem
vertit? ubi est, quae cura mei prior esse solebat?
iam potes Alcyone securus abesse relicta?
iam via longa placet? iam sum carior absens?
aequora me terrent et ponti tristis imago!
et laceras nuper tabulas in litore vidi,
et saepe  in tumulis sine corpore nomina legi.
quod tua si flecti precibus sententia nullis,
care potest, coniunx, nimiumque es certus eundi,
me quoque tolle simul! certe iactabimur una,
nec nisi quae patiar, metuam; pariterque feremus,
quidquid erit, pariter super aequo lata feremur." 

Before (he sails), however, he makes you aware of his plan, most faithful Alcyone; immediately her innermost bones received a chill, and a pallor similar to boxwood covered her face, and her cheeks became wet, the tears pouring down. Three times she tried to speak, (but) three times her face was wet with tears, and with sobbing interrupting her loving protests, she said, "What fault of mine has changed your mind, dearest? Where is that concern for me which used to be first? Are you now able to be away, untroubled, Alcyone having been abandoned? Does the long journey now please (you)? Am I now dearer to you (when) absent? The waves and the vision of the sad sea terrify me! and recently I have seen planks on the shore, and often I have read names on tombs without a body. But if, dear husband, your intention can be influenced by no prayers, and you are absolutely set on going, take me together (with you) also! At least, we shall be tossed about together, and I shall not fear except that which I shall suffer; and together we shall endure whatever will be, (and) together we shall be carried over the wide seas.

8.  Love will not let the poet sleep. (Petronius: Poem 26.)


lecto compositus vix prima silentia noctis
   carpebam et somno lumina victa dabam,
cum me saevus Amor prensat sursumque capillis
   excitat et lacerum pervigilare iubet.
"tu famulus meus" inquit "ames cum mille puellas,
   solus, io, solus, dure, iacere potes?"
exsilio et pedibus nudis tunicaque soluta
   omne iter impedio, nullum iter expedio.
nunc propero, nunc ire piget, rursumque redire
   paenitet, et pudor est stare via media.
ecce tacent voces hominum strepitusque viarum
   et volucrem cantus turbaque fida canum:
solus ego ex cunctis paveo somnumque torumque,
   et sequor imperium, magne Cupido, tuum.

Only just settled in my bed, I was beginning to enjoy the first silence of the night and was giving up my conquered eyes to sleep, when savage Love grabs hold of me and raises (me) up by the hair and orders (me), shattered (as I am), to stay awake. "Can you, my slave," he says, "although you love a thousand girls, lie alone, yes, alone, (you) hard-hearted one?" I jump up, and with bare feet and loose tunic, I start down (lit. block) each road and find my way by none (lit. free no way). Now I hurry, now it vexes me to go, and again I repent (lit. it repents [me]) to return, and it is a shame to stand in the middle of the road. Behold, the voices of men and the noises of the streets are quiet, as are (lit. and) the songs of birds and the faithful pack of dogs: I, alone out of all (of these), dread both sleep and bed, and follow your command, great Cupid.   



Tuesday, 15 February 2011

THUCYDIDES: THE ATHENIANS' RESPONSE TO THE REVOLT OF MITYLENE: EXTRACTS FROM "THE PELOPONNESIAN WAR " BOOK III

Introduction.

In this further extract from Thucydides' great work, Sabidius has translated excerpts from the speeches made during the debate in the Athenian assembly about the fate of Mytilene, a city on the island of Lesbos which had rebelled against the Athenian Empire in 428 B.C. Since Mytilene was a long-standing and privileged member of that empire, the Athenians were shaken and angry at this disloyalty, especially since they were now engaged in a life-and-death struggle with Sparta (the Peloponnesian War 431-404 B.C.). The Athenians subjected Mytilene to a long blockade and succeeded in capturing it in the following year, after which their general, Paches, sent the ring-leaders of the revolt to Athens. The fate of Mitylene is determined in a meeting of the Athenian assembly on the Pnyx in the summer of 427 B.C. when passions were running high because of the difficulties which Athens had recently experienced. The two main speakers were Cleon, the notorious demagague, who led the more aggressive elements within the assembly, and the more moderate Diodotus, about whom nothing outside this speech is known, but who was probably a follower of the great Pericles, who had died in the autumn of 429.


This extract shows Thucydides' writing at its most compelling. As a historian he aimed at impartiality and accuracy, which he obtained to an impressive degree. While the many speeches which he records, and of which the two excerpts below are notable examples, were written in his own words, he claimed that they contained the gist of what was actually said. One is struck by the sophistication and profundity of thought reflected in these speeches. When one considers that some of the dilemmas experienced by the Athenians in relation to their empire would have struck cords of recognition in the minds of Britons of the Victorian age, one can see why the content as well as the literary value of Thucydides' history was rated so highly by educationalists of that time.

This extract is taken from "A Greek Anthology", published by JACT through the Cambridge University Press, (2002).

Ch. 36.2 - 37.2.  The Athenians initially decide that all the adult males of Mytilene should be put to death and the women and children enslaved, but, having had second thoughts, they debate the matter again. Cleon argues forcefully that they should confirm their previous decision.   


They made proposals about the prisoners (lit. men), and, in the fury of the moment (lit. through fury), it seemed good to them to put to death not only those who were present but also all the Mytilenean males who (lit. as many as) were adult, and to enslave the children and women, giving as an objection the other aspects of the revolt that, (although) not being subjects like the others, they had made (a rebellion), and not least that the ships of the Peloponnesians had contributed to the uprising by venturing to cross over to Ionia (in) coming to help them; for they seemed to have made the revolt not through a momentary impulse (lit. through no small design). And so they send a trireme to Paches (as) a messenger of the things which had been decided, telling (him) to despatch the Mytileneans with speed. On the next day there was, immediately, some repentance among them and the thought that they had made a cruel and outrageous decision to destroy a whole city rather than the guilty ones. When they perceived this, the ambassadors of the Mytileneans who were present, and those of the Athenians supporting them, arranged with those in authority that they hold the debate (lit. put forward the proposals) again; and they persuaded them the more easily because it was also clear to them that the majority of the citizens wished that some one should give them the opportunity to deliberate again. An assembly having been convened immediately, various views were expressed on both sides, and Cleon, the (son) of Cleaenetus, the same man who had carried the former (motion) that they should put (them) to death, being in all other respects the most violent of the citizens, and, at that time, by far the most persuasive, spoke again as follows.

"I, for my part, have often at other times already been convinced (lit. known) that a democracy is incapable of governing others, and, especially now in relation to your change of mind about the Mytileneans. Because your situation from day to day is free from fear and without plots among yourselves, you have the same (attitude) towards the allies, and in whatever way you make a mistake, either having been persuaded by them in argument or (when) you have given way in pity, you do not think it is dangerous to you to become weak without gaining the gratitude of the allies, not considering that you have the empire (as) a tyranny and disaffected subjects, themselves (turning) towards plotting (against you), (and) who obey you not from whatever things you do as favours, (although) yourselves being harmed (by doing so), but from the ways in which you are superior to them in strength rather than through their good will."

Ll. 40.7 - 42.1.  After Cleon has urged the assembly not to be weak, Diodotus advises that decisions taken in anger and haste are likely to be poor ones.

Cleon concludes his speech with these words:

"So, do not become traitors to yourselves, but, placing yourselves in thought as close as possible to the (moment of) the injury (lit. suffering) and (thinking) how you would have (then) considered (it) of supreme importance to have conquered them, now pay (them) back (for it), not becoming soft just at the present moment, nor forgetting the danger then having been hung over (you), and punish them deservedly, and make (them) a clear example to the other allies that whoever may rebel will be punished with death. For, if they learn this, you will less often fight your allies, (while) neglecting your enemies."

Such were the words Cleon spoke. After him, Diodotus, the (son) of Eucrates, who in the previous assembly also had spoken very strongly against putting the Mytileneans to death, coming forward, then spoke as follows (lit. such things):

"I do not blame those who have proposed a fresh debate about the Mytileneans, nor do I praise those urging that we should not often deliberate about the most important matters, and I think the two things most opposed to good counsel are haste and anger, of which the former is accustomed to go together with folly, and the latter with ignorance and lack of judgement."

Ll. 47.1 - 48.2.  Diodotus argues that it would not be wrong, but also counter-productive to their interests, for the Athenians to impose such a savage sentence.

Diodotus concludes his speech with these words:

"You must consider how much you would go wrong on this, (if you were) persuaded by Cleon. For at present  the democratic faction in all the cities is well-disposed to you, and, either it does not join in with the oligarchs (lit. the few) in revolting, or, if it is forced (to do so), it becomes at once an enemy to the rebels and you go to war with the hostile city having the people on your side. If you destroy the democratic faction of the Mytileneans, who had no share in the rebellion and (who), when they got possession of weapons, willingly surrendered the city, you will, firstly, act wrongly (by) killing your benefactors, and (then) you will bring about, in relation to the upper classes (lit. the powerful) of the population, what they most want. For, (when) inciting their cities to rebellion, they will have the democratic faction immediately (as) an ally, you having made known beforehand that the same punishment has been laid down both for the guilty and, likewise, for those (who are) not. And it is necessary, even if they were guilty, to pretend otherwise, so that (that) element which alone is still allied to us should not become hostile. I consider it much more advantageous for the maintenance of our empire that we should willingly be subject to injustice rather than that we should justly put to death those whom it is in our interest not (to do so). And the (claim) of Cleon that justice and expediency in punishment (are) the same is not found to be possible to bring about at the same time in this case. So, may you, confessing that this is the better course, and conceding too much neither to pity nor to fairness, by which (motives) not even I allow (you) to be influenced, but upon these recommendations by me, (may you) be persuaded to try at your leisure (those) of the Mytileneans, whom Paches has sent off as guilty, and allow the others to live (on undisturbed). For this (will be) good both for the future, and at the present moment (will be) a cause of fear to the enemy; for whoever plans well against his adversaries is stronger than (someone) attacking with folly (combined) with deeds of strength.

Ll. 49.1 - 49.4.  Diodotus' view just carries the day, and the second ship sent out by the Athenians arrives just in time to avert the slaughter.


Diodotus spoke such things; these opinions, almost evenly matched against each other, having been expressed, the Athenians proceeded to a division (lit. conflict) of their opinion nevertheless, and they appeared nearly equal in the show of hands, but the (view) of Diodotus prevailed. And immediately they sent off another trireme in haste, for fear lest, the former ship having anticipated (them), they might find that the city had been destroyed; it had a lead of about a day and a night. The ambassadors of the Mytileneans, providing wine and barley-meal for the ship, and promising great things if they arrived first, such haste in the voyage occurred that they ate barley cakes kneaded with wine and olive-oil at the same time as rowing, and  some snatched sleep in turns, and the others rowed. By chance no wind being opposed (to it), and the former ship not sailing in haste on (such) unwelcome business, this (second) ship making haste in such a manner, the former arrived ahead (just) so much ahead that Paches had read the decree and was about to implement the things that had been decided, (when) the (ship), (coming) later than it, then came in to land and prevented the massacre. Mytilenene came within so short a distance of the danger (of destruction).




Monday, 14 February 2011

VIRGIL: AENEID: BOOK II: THE SACK OF TROY

Introduction.


Book II of the "Aeneid", while not perhaps one of the most renowned books of this wonderful epic, is nevertheless famous as the source for much of the legend passed down to us of the actual fall of Troy. As such, the Book is full of the pathos that inevitably surrounds this sad event, and it demands, and surely succeeds in obtaining, the compassion of the reader for the pitiful account of Troy's last hours and its merciless sacking by the triumphant, yet treacherous, Greeks. The story of how the stratagem of the Wooden Horse is able to deliver the city to the Greeks, after ten long years of frustration, is arresting enough, but the way in which the cunning of Sinon beguiles the brave, but all too credulous, Trojans is frankly horrifying (see lines 77-194). The Book includes some truly  shocking episodes, such as the killing of the priest Laocoon and his two young sons by the sea-monsters sent by Neptune (see lines 199-227); the callous execution of the aged king Priam at the altar of his palace, when the old man courageously seeks to avenge the murder of his son, which he and his wife have been forced to witness (see lines 526-558); and, right at the end of the Book, when Aeneas loses his wife Creusa, as he and his household depart from the stricken city. In this last episode, in particular, the horror and sheer grief of Aeneas at her disappearance are palpable, and Creusa's brave admonition to Aeneas that he proceed without her is very moving (see lines 736-795). A perusal of this book is, thus, a rewarding, albeit a melancholic, experience.

Apart from its dramatic content, the Book maintains to the full the peerless standards of Virgil's epic hexameter metre, the stately  grandeur of which well matches the solemnity of his theme. But Virgil's skill as a word-smith is always evident too. As an example of this, note how in lines 209-211 he uses alliteration as well as rhythm to capture the sensation of the slithering and sibilant sea-snakes:

"Fit sonitus spumante salo: / iamqu' arva tenebant, 
ardentisqu' oculos / suffecti sanguin' et igni
sibila lambebant / linguis vibrantibus ora."    

The hissing of these fearful snakes is audible, indeed!

The Book also contains the immortal line, spoken earlier by poor Laocoon with regard to the Wooden Horse:

"Quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentis", i.e. 'Whatever it is, I fear the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.' (l.49) (N.B. This is surely a better translation than 'I fear the Greeks and the gifts they bring', which is sometimes found.)

Also to be found in Book II are some of the graphic asides, examples of Latin conciseness, for which Virgil is duly famous. Two such phrases are "horresco referens" (I shudder to relate) in line 204, and "dictu...mirabile" (marvellous to tell) in line 680.

The text used for this translation is that of the Macmillan Modern School Classics Series, edited by H.E.Gould and J.L.Whiteley, first published in 1943, with a new edition by the Bristol Classical Press in 1982. This translation employs the section breaks and synopses taken from that edition.


Ll. 1-20.  Aeneas, urged by Dido to tell her of the fall of Troy, begins with the building of the Wooden Horse.


All fell silent and, attentive, fixed their gaze (lit. held their faces) (upon him). Thereupon, Father Aeneas from his high couch began thus:

You order (me), (O) queen, to revive an unspeakable pain, (telling) how the Danaans (i.e. Greeks) overthrew the power of Troy and its empire ever to be mourned, and the most pitiable things which I myself saw, and in which I took (lit. of which I was) a great part. In saying such things, which of the Myrmidons or of the Dolopians or (what) soldier of grim Ulysses could refrain from tears? And now moist night falls from the heavens and the setting stars urge sleep. But if you have (lit. if there is [to you]) so great a desire to learn of our misfortunes, and briefly to hear of Troy's final agony, although my mind shudders to remember and recoils in grief, I shall begin. 

The leaders of the Danaans, broken by war and crushed by fate, so many years now slipping by, build, with the divine skill of Pallas (i.e. Minerva), a horse as big as a mountain, and inter-lace its ribs with sawn fir-wood; they pretend (that it is) a votive offering for a (safe) return (home); that (is) the report (which) is spread abroad. Having chosen by lot bands (lit. bodies) of men, they secretly enclose (them) hither within its dark flanks and  thoroughly fill the vast recesses of its womb with armed soldiers.

Ll. 21-39.  The Trojans discuss what to do with the Horse.


Within sight (of Troy) is Tenedos, an island very well-known by repute, rich in resources, while the kingdom of Priam remained, now only a bay and an untrustworthy anchorage for ships (lit. keels): having sailed out (lit. having been carried forth), they hid themselves hither on its lonely beaches. We thought that (they) had gone away and were making for Mycenae with a favourable (wind). Therefore all Teucria (i.e. Troy) released itself from its long grief. The gates are opened wide; it pleases (us) to go forth and see the Dorian (i.e Greek) camp and the deserted space and abandoned shore-line. Here the band of the Dolopians, and there fierce Achilles, pitched (their tents); here (was) the place for ships, there they were accustomed to contend in battle-line. Some (of us) were amazed at the fatal gift to unmarried Minerva, and marvelled at the massive size of the horse; and  Thymoetes (is) the first (to) urge that it be led within our walls and placed in our citadel, either through treachery or (because) the fate of Troy already tended that way. But Capys, and (those) to the mind of whom (there was) a better opinion, bid (us) either to hurl this stratagem and suspect gift of the Danaans into the sea, or, flames having been placed beneath (it), to set (it) on fire: or to bore through and probe (with spears) the hollow lair of its womb. The uncertain multitude is divided into different factions.

Ll. 40-56.  The priest Laocoon suspects a stratagem and warns the Trojans.


There, foremost before all, with a big crowd accompanying (him), Laocoon comes down furiously from the top of the citadel, and (speaks out) from afar: "O wretched citizens, what very great madness (is this)? Do you (really) believe that our enemies have sailed away? Or do you think that any gifts of the Danaans are without treachery? (Is) Ulysses thus known (to you)? Either Achaeans (i.e. Greeks), having been enclosed by this wood, are concealed (within it), or this machine has been built for the destruction of our walls, to spy on our homes and to come at our city from above, or some trick lies hidden: do not trust that horse, Teucrians (i.e. Trojans)! Whatever it is, I fear the Danaans, even (when they are) bringing gifts." Having spoken thus, he hurled with mighty strength a great spear into the side and into the belly of the beast with its curved timbers. It stood (there) quivering, and the womb having been caused to re-echo, the hollow recesses resounded with a groan. And, if the will of the gods, if our feelings, had not been adverse, he had compelled (us) to defile with iron the Argolid (i.e. Greek) lair, and Troy would now be standing, and, (O) high citadel of Priam, you would (still) be there.

Ll. 57-76.  A prisoner is brought in by some Trojan shepherds.


Behold, meanwhile (some) Dardanian shepherds were dragging a young man, bound, in respect of his hands, behind his back, to the king with a loud shout, (a young man) who had, of his own accord, put himself, a stranger, in the path of (them) advancing, in order that he might contrive this very thing and, open Troy to the Achaeans, (and he was) resolute in his mind and prepared for either (outcome), whether to effect his deceit or to succumb to certain death. In their desire of seeing (him), the Trojan youth, having gathered together from all sides, rushed up, and vied to mock the captive. Hear now of the treachery of the Danaans, and from the crime of a single man learn about all (of them). For indeed, when, alarmed and defenceless, he halted in full view (of us), and with his eyes looked around the Phrygian (i.e. Trojan) troop, he said: "Alas! What land (is there) now, where (people) can receive me favourably? Or what now remains finally to me, wretched (as I am), for whom (there is) not anywhere a place among the Danaans, and moreover the Dardanians (i.e. Trojans) themselves, (being) hostile, are demanding punishments with blood?" Our minds were changed by this lament, and our (impulse to) attack was checked. We encouraged (him) to tell (us) from which stock he was sprung, and what (news) he was bringing; let him say what confidence he has (lit. there is [to him]) as a captive. His dread at length being laid aside, he speaks these (words):

Ll. 77-107.  The prisoner, one Sinon, tells a story that rouses the curiosity of the Trojans. 


"Whatever shall come of it (lit. shall be), (O) king," he said, "I shall indeed tell you the whole truth (lit. all things true): nor shall I deny that I am from the nation of Argos: this (is) the first thing; nor, if fortune has made Sinon wretched will she, wicked (as she is), make him false and untruthful. If in speech by chance there has come to your ears in any way the name of Palamedes, the son of Belus, and his renown famous by report, a man whom, (though) innocent, the Pelasgians (i.e. Greeks) condemned to death upon a false charge, the infamous allegation that he opposed the war, (but whom), now (that he is) bereft of the light, they mourn: my father, (being) a poor man, sent me hither to war (lit. to arms) from my first years. While he stood safe in his kingship and flourished among the kings in council, I too enjoyed some standing (lit. name) and honour. When, through the envy of deceitful Ulysses (I am not saying things unknown [to you]), he passed from the upper regions, cast down, I dragged out my life in the shadows and in grief, and I was indignant at the misfortune of my innocent friend. But, in my madness, I was not silent; and I vowed that I (would be) his avenger, if any chance offered, (and) if I should return victorious to my native Argos, and by my words I aroused fierce hatreds. From this cause (there was) for me the first taint of misfortune; henceforth Ulysses always intimidated (me) with new accusations, and  deliberately plotted violence (lit. sought arms) (against me). Indeed, he did not rest, until, with Calchas (as) his accomplice - but why should I recount this unpleasing (tale), yet in vain. Or, why should I waste your time (lit. delay)? If you hold all Achaeans in one rank, and to hear that (name) is enough, take your punishment forthwith: the man from Ithaca would wish this, and the sons of Atreus (i.e. Agamemnon and Menelaus) would buy (it) at a high price." Then indeed we burn to enquire and to seek the reasons (from him), unaware of the very great knavery and cunning of the Pelasgians. He continues trembling, and with feigned fear (lit. with a false heart) he speaks:

Ll. 108-144.  The false Sinon pretends to be a deserter from the Greeks.


"Several times the Danaans, wearied by the long war, wished to undertake a retreat, with Troy having been left behind, and to depart; would that they had done (so)! Several times a fierce storm upon (lit. of) the deep prevented them, and the South Wind frightened (them as they were) going. In particular, when the horse, constructed of maple planks, was standing, rain-storms thundered across the whole heaven. Being uncertain, we send Eurypylus to question Phoebus' (i.e. Apollo's) oracle; he reports these sad words from this shrine: "You placated the winds with the blood of a slaughtered maiden (lit. with blood and a slaughtered maiden), when you first came to the shores of Ilium: with blood your return should (lit. [is] needing to)  be sought, and  you must win a favourable outcome (lit. [it is] necessary for a favourable omen  to be won) with an Argive (i.e. Greek) life." When this answer came to the ears of the host, their minds became amazed, and a cold shudder ran through their innermost bones, (as they ask themselves) for whom fate is preparing, (and) whom Apollo is demanding. At this moment, the Ithacan dragged forth the prophet Calchas into the midst (of them) amid great uproar; he demands (that he explains) what this command of the gods is. Even then, many were predicting that the cruel crime of the plotter was (designed) for me. For ten (lit. twice five) days he is silent, and, having been concealed, he refuses to betray by his voice anyone or condemn (him) to death. At last, with reluctance, urged on by the loud shouts of the Ithacan, by agreement he breaks his silence and designates me for the altar. All approved and endured (with equanimity) what each feared for himself, (when it was) turned to the destruction of a single wretched man. And already the unspeakable day was here, and the sacred (implements), and the salted meal and the sacrificial fillets around my temples were prepared. I escaped (lit. snatched myself away) from death, and broke my bonds. Throughout the night I hid myself unseen in the sedge by a muddy lake, until they might set sail (lit. give their sails [to the wind]), if they were to have set sail (lit. have given [their sails to the wind]). Nor do I now have any hope (lit. to me is there now any hope) of seeing my old native-land, or my dear children or a much longed-for parent; maybe too, they will claim punishment from them in return for my escape, and make atonement for this guilt (of mine) by the death of these wretched ones. Wherefore, I beseech you by the gods above and those powers conscious of the truth, by whatever faith there is which remains still undefiled anywhere among mortals, take pity on these very great tribulations, take pity on a soul bearing things not deserved."

Ll. 145-194.  Sinon's lying tale deceives the Trojans. Asked by Priam to explain the purpose of the Wooden Horse, he is fertile in fresh inventions.  

Because of these tears, we grant (him) his life, and pity (him) moreover. Priam is the first to order that the hand-cuffs and close-fitting fetters be removed from the man, and speaks these friendly words thus: "Whoever you are, henceforth now forget the Greeks, whom you have lost (lit. having been lost): you are one of us (lit. ours); and speak true things to me, asking these things: to what purpose did they erect this pile of a monstrous horse? Who (is) the author (of it)? What are they seeking? What an act of duty to the gods, or what an engine of war (may it be)?" He had spoken. He, equipped with deceit and Pelasgian cunning, raised his hand-palms to the stars: "You eternal fires, and, your inviolable godhead," he said, "you altars, and impious swords, from which I have escaped, and those head-bands of the gods, which I have worn (as) victim, I call (you) to witness: (it is) lawful for me to break obligations sacred (only) to the Greeks, (it is) lawful (for me) to hate these men, and to bring everything to light (lit. to bear everything up into the air), if they are hiding anything; nor am I constrained by any laws of my native-land. Only you must (lit. may you) abide by your promises, and, Troy having been preserved, you must (lit. may you) keep faith, if I shall bring (you) the truth (and) if I shall pay (you) back at a great price. All the hope and confidence of the Danaans in the war they had begun (lit. having been begun) rested (lit. stood) on the help of Pallas. However, from (the time) when the impious son of Tydeus (i.e. Diomedes) and Ulysses, the deviser of (all) their crimes, venturing to pluck the fateful Palladium from the consecrated temple, the sentries on the top of the citadel having been slain, seized the sacred effigy, and with their bloody hands dared to touch the virginal head-bands of the goddess, from that (time) the hopes of the Danaans ebbed and flowed backwards gradually (lit. having glided away), their strength having been broken and the mind of the goddess having been turned away from (them). Tritonia (i.e. Minerva) gave signs of this by no uncertain marvels. Scarcely (had) the image been placed in the camp, (when) flickering flames shone from its staring eyes (lit. lights) and a salty sweat ran (lit. went) over its limbs, and three times she herself sprang forth from her base [marvellous to relate (lit. in the telling)], bearing both her shield and her quivering spear. Calchas declares that the sea is meet to be braved in flight forthwith, and that Pergama (i.e. the citadel of Troy) could not be destroyed by Argive weapons unless they seek the omens anew in Argos, and return the deity which they have carried away with them over the sea and in their curved ships (lit. keels). And now, as to the fact that they have sought their native Mycenae on the wind, they are preparing weapons and gods (as) companions, and, the sea having been retraced, they will appear unexpectedly. Thus Calchas interprets the omens. Having been warned, they have erected this effigy instead of the Palladium, and on behalf of the injured deity, in order to make atonement for the sad sacrilege. Yet, Calchas ordered (us) to lift up this immense pile with interlocking timbers and to raise (it) to the sky, in order that it could not be received through the gates or led into your fortifications, nor protect the people under their ancient piety. For, (he said), if your hand were to violate this offering to Minerva, then there would (be) a great destruction [may the gods turn this augury upon him first!] for the empire of Priam and the Phrygians; but if, by your hands, it ascends into your city, Asia (i.e. Troy) will actually come in a great war to the walls of Pelops (i..e. Greece), and that  destiny will await our grandsons."

Ll. 195-227.  Laocoon is destroyed by two sea-monsters sent by Pallas.


Through such treachery and perjured cunning, Sinon's tale (was) believed, and we were deceived by his ruse and his forced tears, (we) whom neither the son of Tydeus nor Larissaean Achilles, neither the ten years, nor the thousand keels, subdued.

At this point, another (incident), greater and much more dreadful befalls (us) unhappy people, and disturbs our unprepared minds. Laocoon, chosen by lot (as) priest of Neptune, was sacrificing a huge bull at the customary altar. But, behold, a pair of sea-snakes with huge coils [I shudder relating (it)], breast the sea over the calm deep from Tenedos, and together make for the shore; their breasts raised between the waves and their blood-red crests tower over the waters; the other parts traverse the sea behind and they curve their immense backs with coils. A noise is made by the foaming salt; and now they had reached (lit. they held) the land, and, suffused with blood and fire in respect of their blazing eyes, they licked their hissing mouths with flickering tongues. Pale at the sight, we scatter. In an unswerving course, they make for Laocoon. And, first, each serpent, embracing the small bodies of his two sons, entwines (itself around), and feeds upon the wretched limbs with biting; afterwards they seize him as he came (lit. coming) to their assistance and bearing weapons, and they bind (him) in their huge coils; and now, having wound (themselves) twice around his middle, and, having placed their scaly bodies (lit. backs) twice around his neck, they (still) tower above (him) with their heads and high necks. While he strives to tear the knots apart with his hands, drenched in respect of his head-bands in his own gore and black venom, at the same time he raises horrible screams to the stars, like the bellowing when a wounded bull has escaped from the altar and has shaken off an ill-aimed axe from his neck. And now the pair of serpents make their escape by gliding (away) to the top of the temple, and  make for the citadel of heartless Tritonia, and are hidden beneath the feet of the goddess, and under the circle of her shield.

Ll. 228-267.  The fate of Laocoon, who had violated the Horse, decides the Trojans to breach their walls and bring it into the city. 


Then, indeed, a new dread steals through the shaken hearts of all; and (men) say that Laocoon has paid for his crime deservedly (lit. deserving [thus]), in that he has damaged the sacred woodwork and has hurled his spear into its back. They exclaimed that the statue must be (lit. [is] needing to be) led to its (rightful) resting-place, and the divine power of the goddess must be (lit. [is] needing to be) entreated. We breach our walls and lay open the city's fortifications. All buckle down (lit. gird [themselves]) to the work, and rollers (lit. glidings of wheels) are placed under its feet, and they stretch chains of hempen rope to its neck. That fatal engine, pregnant with weapons, mounts our walls. Boys and unmarried girls sing sacred (hymns) around (it), and rejoice to touch the ropes by hand. On it comes, and glides, menacingly, into the midst of the city. O my native-land! O Ilium (i.e. Troy), home of the gods, and walls of the people of Dardanus (i.e. Trojans), famous in war! Four times it halted on the very threshold of the gate, and four times the weapons in its womb gave (out) a noise.  Yet, we pressed on regardless and blind in our madness, and stationed the accursed monster in our consecrated citadel. Even then, Cassandra, by order of heaven, not ever believed by the Teucrians, opens her lips to foretell the future (lit. for the fates to be). We, poor fools, although that day was our last, cover the temples of the gods throughout the city with festal foliage.

Meanwhile, the sky revolves, and night rushes (up) from the Ocean, enveloping in its great shadow both the earth and the heavens, and the treachery of the Myrmidons (i.e. Greeks); the Teucrians, stretched out across the city, became quiet; sleep embraces their tired limbs. And now the Argive host, with ships drawn up in line,  was coming from Tenedos, through the friendly silence of a hidden moon, making for that well-known shore, when the king's ship (lit. stern) hoisted  the fire-signal, and Sinon, protected by the unjust destiny of the gods, stealthily releases the pine-wood bolts and the Danaans locked up in the womb (of the horse). The horse, having been opened up, restores them to the air (lit. the breezes), and, rejoicing, they come forth (lit. take themselves forth), the chieftains, Thessandrus and Sthenelus, and dread Ulysses, sliding down a lowered rope, and Acamas, and Thoas, and Neoptolemus, the grandson of Peleus, and captain Machaon, Menelaus too, and Epeus, the very constructor of the device. They fall upon a city, buried in sleep and wine; the sentries are cut down, and they welcome all their comrades through the open gates, and their forces join together as planned (lit. their confederate forces unite).

Ll. 268-297.  Hector's ghost, appearing to Aeneas, warns him of Troy's approaching doom. 


It was the time at which rest first begins for tired mortals, and, as a gift of the gods, steals (over them) most delightfully. In my sleep, behold, a very sorrowful Hector seemed to me to be present before my eyes, and he was pouring forth plentiful tears (lit. weepings), as (he) once (was), having been dragged by a two-horsed chariot, and black with blood-stained dust, and pierced, by (lit. in respect of) thongs, through his swollen feet. Oh me, what a sight (lit. of what sort) he was! How much (he had) changed from that Hector, who returned clad in the spoils of Achilles, or having flung Phrygian fire-brands on to the ships (lit. sterns) of the Danaans! (He was) bearing a ragged beard, and hair matted with blood, and those wounds, which he had received in great number around the walls of his native-city. I seemed to address him (lit. the man) first, and to utter these sad words: "O light of Dardania (i.e. Troy), what so long a delay has held (you from us)? From what country have you come, (O long) awaited Hector? How (gladly) we, weary ones, look upon you, after the many deaths (lit. funerals) of your people, after the various tribulations of your folk and of your city! What shameful occurrence has marred your princely countenance? Or why do I see these wounds? He (answers) nothing; nor does he heed (lit. tarry for) me asking vain things: "Alas! flee, (O you), having been born from a goddess, and snatch yourself from these flames," he said. "The enemy holds your walls; Troy is falling from its high pinnacle. Enough (has been) given by you to your native-land and to Priam. If Pergama could have been protected by a right (hand), it would have been defended by this (right hand). (Now) Troy entrusts her sacred things and household gods to you. Take (them) with you (as) companions of your destiny; seek for them a great walled city, which you will finally establish, when you have wandered over the seas (lit. the seas having been wandered over)." Thus he speaks, and with his own hands he brings out the (holy) headbands and powerful Vesta and her eternal fire from the innermost shrine.

Ll. 298-335.  Aeneas wakes from his vision to see and hear the truth of Hector's warning.


Meanwhile, the city is confused with different kinds of grief; and the noises are becoming more and more distinct, although the house of my father, Anchises, (was) secluded and lay back, concealed by trees, and the terrifying din of battle is rushing towards (us). I am awoken from sleep, and, by climbing, I reach the pinnacle of the roof top, and I stand there with attentive (lit. lifted up) ears: even as when fire falls upon a corn-field with the South Winds raging, or (when) the rushing torrent from a mountain stream engulfs the fields, (and) flattens the crops and the labours of oxen, and drags forests headlong; a shepherd, unaware (of the cause), hearing the sound from the high peak of a rock, is amazed. Then, indeed, the truth (is) clear, and the treachery of the Danaans becomes plain. Already, fire (lit. Vulcan) gaining the mastery, the spacious house of Deiphobus yields ruin; now Ucalegon('s house) burns next; the wide straits of Sigeum are lit up by fire: demented, I take up arms; nor (is there) any plan (lit. enough of reason) in my arms but my mind is eager to assemble a band (of men) for fighting and to come together with my comrades on the citadel. Frenzy and anger take hold of my mind, and it occurs (to me) that (it is) noble to die in battle.

Ll. 318-335.  Panthus, priest of Apollo, tells Aeneas that resistance is hopeless.


But, behold Panthus, having eluded the Achaeans' missiles, Panthus, the son of Othrys, and priest of the citadel and of Phoebus, he, himself, is dragging by the hand his sacred (vessels), (the statues of) his defeated gods and his little grandson, and at the run he frantically makes for my door (lit. threshold). "At what place (is) the hardest fighting (lit. greatest business)? What strong-point are we seizing?" Scarcely had I spoken these (words), when he replies (with) such (words as these): "The last day and the unavoidable hour have come to Dardania. We, Trojans, are no more (lit. have been), Ilium and the great glory of the Teucrians are no more (lit. have been). Remorseless Jupiter is handing over everything to Argos: the Danaans are the masters in our burnt city. The horse, standing tall in the middle of our ramparts, streams with armed men, and victorious Sinon spreads the blaze, exultantly. Some, as many thousands as ever came from great Mycenae, are present at the open gates; others have invested the narrow streets (lit. the narrows of the ways) with weapons levelled (lit. placed in the way); there stands a line of steel with flashing sword-points drawn, ready to kill (lit. for death); only the foremost sentinels at the gates attempt battle, and they resist with blind fighting (lit. Mars).

Ll. 336-369.  Aeneas, however, gathers a band of survivors to make what resistance is possible.


Because of the words of the son of Othrys and the impulse of the gods, I rush (lit. carry myself) into the flames and into the fight, whither grim revenge (lit. Erinys, one of the Furies), whither the roaring and the shouting, having been borne up to heaven, calls (me). Ripheus and Epytus, mighty in  arms, meeting (me) (lit. having been brought in [my] way) through the moon(light), join (me) (lit. add themselves [to me]) (as) comrades, and (also) Hypanis and Dymas, and they had (all) gathered (themselves) by my side, and (so had) young Coroebus, the son of Mygdon. By chance, he had come to Troy in those days, having been on fire with a mad love for Cassandra, and, as a son-in-law, he was bringing help to Priam and the Phrygians - unhappy man, in that he did not heed the warnings of his inspired bride. When I have seen that they, in a body, were bold for battle, I begin (to address them) further with these (words): "Men, most valiant hearts in vain, if you have (lit. [there is] to you) a fixed desire to follow (me) daring the last things, you will see what fortune there is to our affairs. The gods, by whose (support) this empire once stood, have all departed, their shrines and altars having been left behind; you are coming to the aid of a burnt city; let us rush into the midst of the fray and let us die! (There is but) one security for the vanquished, and that is to expect no security." So, desperation (is) added to the minds of the men, Thence, like ravening wolves in a dark mist, which the cruel rage of the belly drives blindly on, and (which), their cubs having been left behind are awaiting with dry mouths, we go on through missiles, (and) through the enemy to certain (lit. not uncertain) death, and we hold our course through the middle of the city: black night flies around (us) in the hollow darkness. Who can unfold by speaking the catastrophe of that night, who (thus) the deaths (lit. the funerals), or (who) can match its woes with tears? An ancient city is falling, having been dominant for many years: everywhere very many bodies lie motionless both through the streets, and through the houses and the revered temples (lit. thresholds) of the gods. Nor do Teucrians alone pay the penalty by their blood: sometimes valour revives even in the hearts of the vanquished, and Danaans fall, (despite being) victorious. Everywhere (there is) grievous lamentation, everywhere (there is) fear and death in very many forms (lit. very many a form of death).

Ll. 370-401.  Taking the arms and accoutrements of some Greeks, whom they overwhelm, Aeneas and his comrades, thus disguised, gain some successes. 


Androgeos meets (lit. presents himself to) us first, a great throng of Danaans accompanying (him), in his ignorance, believing (us to be) an allied troop, and, unprompted, he addresses (us) with these friendly words: "Make haste, men: for what such laggard idleness is holding (you) back? Others are pillaging and plundering the flaming (lit. burned) Pergama: are you coming now from the tall ships for the first time?" He spoke; and at once - for they were not given assuring enough responses - he perceived that he had stumbled into the midst of the enemy. He was stupefied, and, (going) backwards, he checked his feet, together with his voice. Even as (a man) who, treading hard on the ground among prickly brambles, has stepped on a snake unawares, and, frightened, he suddenly recoils from (it), rising up in wrath (lit. raising its wrath) and swelling in respect of its blue-green neck: just so (lit. not otherwise) did Androgeos, trembling (lit. having been shaken) at the sight (of us) seek to go back. We charge and envelop (lit. pour [ourselves] around) (them) with massed weapons, and we scatter (them), being ignorant of the ground and seized with dread, in every direction. Fortune smiles (lit. breathes) upon our first enterprise. And, hereupon, Coroebus, exulting in his mind at this success, says, "O comrades, let us follow where fortune first points the way to safety, and where she shows herself (to be) propitious: let us exchange shields, and fix the insignia of the Danaans upon ourselves. Who among the foe will ask (whether it is) treachery or valour? They themselves will give us their armour." Having spoken thus, he then puts upon (himself) the crested helmet of Androgeos and the handsome distinguishing mark of his shield, and buckles the Argive sword to his side. Ripheus does this, Dymas (does) this himself, and the whole company (does this) joyfully. We go on, mingling (lit. having mingled [ourselves]) with the Danaans, under gods not our own. And fighting through the dark night, we join many battles; we send many of the Danaans down to Orcus (i.e. the Underworld). Some flee in different directions to their ships, and seek the trusty beaches at a run; others climb the huge horse again in shameful fear, and hide themselves in its well-known belly.

Ll. 402-437.  Coroebus, frenzied at seeing Cassandra a captive, leads the company in an attempt to rescue her, and they are at the same time assailed by fellow-Trojans, misled by their Greek equipment.


Alas! it is in no respect right that anyone should trust unwilling gods. Behold, Cassandra, the virgin daughter of Priam, was being dragged with dishevelled hair from the temple and shrine of Minerva, straining her blazing eyes to heaven in vain, her eyes, for bonds were restraining her tender hands (lit. palms). Coroebus, with his mind enraged, could not bear this sight, and plunged himself into the middle of the column, ready to die. We all follow, and charge in with massed weapons. At this point, we are engulfed for the first time by the missiles of our own men from the high roof of the temple, and a very tragic massacre arises, owing to the appearance of our armour and the delusion of the Greek crests. Then, the Danaans, with a cry and in anger at the maiden having been rescued, having been gathered together from all sides, attack, Ajax, the fiercest (of them all), and the twin sons of Atreus, and the whole army of the Dolopians: just as when once, a storm having burst forth (lit. having broken [itself]), opposing winds conflict, the West Wind, the South Wind, and the East Wind, exultant on horses of the Dawn: woods wail, and Nereus rages with his trident amid the foam, and churns up the sea from its lowest depths (lit. bottom). Even those, if by our stratagem we have put to flight any through the shadows in the dark night and have pursued (them) through the whole city, come in sight; they are the first to recognise our shields and deceptive (lit. lying) weapons, and they notice our different speech (lit. mouths) by our sound. At once, we are overwhelmed by number: and Coroebus is the first to fall at the right (hand) of Peneleos beside the altar of the goddess mighty in arms; Ripheus falls too, a wholly just man (and) one who was, among the Teucrians, also the most observant of the right. To the gods it seemed (good) otherwise. Both Hypanis and Dymas perish, having been transfixed by their comrades, and you, Panthus, neither your very great holiness nor Apollo's head-band protected (you from) falling. (O) ashes of Ilium, and last flame of my people, I call (you) to witness that, in your destruction, (I) avoided neither the missiles nor exchanges (of blows) with (lit. of) the Danaans, and, if my destiny had been that I should fall, I earned (that fate) by my deeds (lit. hand). After that, we are driven apart: With me (were) Iphitus and Pelias, of  whom Iphitus (was) now too burdened with age, and Pelias (was) slow through a wound by (lit. of) Ulysses. Forthwith, we were called to Priam's palace by shouting.

Ll. 438-468.  Aeneas, leading the few who survive, engages in the defence of the royal palace.


Here indeed we perceive a huge battle, as if there were no other battles anywhere (lit. there were other battles nowhere), no other men were dying in the whole of the city, Mars thus indomitable, and the Danaans rushing to the building, and the entrance besieged, with a tortoise advancing (lit. being driven forward). Ladders adhere to the walls, and they tread on the rungs close to the very door-posts, and, protecting themselves, they  thrust forward the shields on their left (arms) in the way of weapons, and they grasp the battlements with their right (hands). On the other side the people of Dardanus tear off the towers and the covered roofs of their houses: with these (as) missiles they prepare to defend themselves, since they perceive that the end (is near) (and that they are) now at the point of death; and they roll down the gilded roof-beams, the graceful ceilings (lit. heights) of our ancient fathers: some block the entrances below with drawn swords (lit. sword-points); they guard these with close-packed ranks. Our courage was renewed to bring aid to the king's house, to relieve the men with help, and to add vigour to the vanquished.

There was a door, both a hidden entrance and a well-used thoroughfare of the palace of Priam between (the wings) themselves, and a secluded door at the rear, by which means poor Andromache was wont quite often to betake herself, unaccompanied, to her parents-in-law, and she used to lead the boy Astyanax to his grandfather. I go to the pinnacle of the high roof, whence the poor Teucrians were continuing to cast by hand their unavailing missiles. A tower, standing at the edge (lit. at the sheer [place]) on the top of the roof, and rising (lit. having been erected) up to the stars, whence the whole of Troy and the ships of the Danaans and the Achaean camp were wont to be seen, attacking (it) with axes (lit. iron) all around, where the topmost storey revealed loosened joints, we wrenched (it) from its high position, and pushed (it) over: it, falling suddenly with a crash, trails havoc (behind), and falls widely upon the ranks of the Danaans. But others come up; meanwhile, neither stones nor any (other) kind of missiles cease.

Ll. 469-505.  Pyrrhus, son of Achilles, forces his way into the camp.


In the front of the very entrance hall and in the first doorway, Pyrrhus is exulting, glittering with weapons and bronze light: even as when a snake, having eaten rank weeds, which, cold winter was hiding under the ground
swollen, now, its slough having been shed, uncoils its slithering back into the light, new and shining with youth, its breast having reared (lit. having been raised) up tall to the sun, and it flickers from its mouth with its three-forked tongue. Together (with him) the gigantic Periphas and the armour-bearer Automedon, the driver of Achilles' horses, together (with him) all the youth of Scyros approach the building, and hurl fire-brands on to the roof. He himself, (being) among the foremost, an axe having been seized, breaks through the stout door, and rends the brazen door-posts from their hinges; and now, a panel having been cut out, he has pierced the tough oak, and has made a huge window with a wide span (lit. mouth). The house within appears, and long court-yards become evident; the innermost rooms of Priam and of former kings appear, and they see armed men standing on the entrance threshold.

But the inside of the palace is confused with groaning and a pitiful uproar; the hollow building rings deep within with women's wailing; the clamour strikes the golden stars. Then, terrified mothers wander about the enormous palace, and they hold the pillars in their embrace (lit. embracing [them]), and imprint kisses (on them). Pyrrhus comes on with the force of his father; neither bolts nor the guards themselves are able to withstand (him). The door totters under the repeated (blows of the ) battering ram, and the door-posts, having been removed from their hinges, fall forwards. A passage is made through violence: the Danaans break down the entrance and, having been sent in, kill the first (guards), and fill the place with soldiery far and wide. (It is not so (violent even), when a foaming river, its banks having been breached, has overflowed, and, with its swirling current, has totally overwhelmed the barriers having been placed against (it), is carried over the ploughlands, raging in a torrent (lit. mass), and sweeps through all the pastures (and) the cattle with their stalls. I, myself, saw Neoptolemus (i.e. Pyrrhus), raging in slaughter, and the twin sons of Atreus on the threshold; I saw Hecuba and her hundred daughters, and Priam with his blood (all) over the altars, polluting the flames which he himself had consecrated. Those fifty bed-chambers, so great a hope of progeny, those door-posts gorgeous with barbarian gold and spoils, came crashing down: the Danaans are in control wherever the fire is absent (lit. lacking).

Ll. 506-525.  Priam, the aged king, prepares to resist, but is persuaded by his queen, Hecuba, to take refuge with her among the altars.


You may also ask what was the fate of Priam. When he saw the disaster of the city having been taken and the doors of his palace having been wrenched off, and the enemy in the midst of his innermost quarters, (though) old, he places vainly around his shoulders trembling with age his armour unused for a long time, and girds (on himself) an ineffectual sword, and then he is borne into the thick of the enemy, ready to die. In the middle of his palace and under the naked vault of the sky, there was a large altar and nearby an ancient laurel-tree, leaning over the altar and enfolding the household gods in its shade. Here, Hecuba and her daughters were vainly sitting around the altar, like doves (driven) headlong by a black storm, huddled together and embracing the statues of our gods. But, when she saw Priam himself, the weapons of his youth having been taken up, she says, "(O) my most wretched husband, what such dire purpose has impelled (you) to gird yourself with these weapons? Or whither are you hurrying? The situation does not need such help, nor such defenders as you; no, not even if my own Hector himself were now here. Pray, come hither; this altar will protect (us) all, or you will die together (with us)." Having spoken thus with her mouth, she took the aged man to herself, and placed (him) at the holy spot.

Ll. 526-559.  Polites, the son of Priam, is slain by Pyrrhus under his father's eyes; and Priam, seeking to avenge his son, is likewise slain by Pyrrhus. 

But, see, Polites, one of Priam's sons, having escaped from the carnage wrought by Pyrrhus, flees through weapons, through foemen, down the long colonnades, and, wounded, he traverses the empty halls. The ardent Pyrrhus pursues him with threatening wound, and right now he grasps (him) by hand and presses (him) with his spear. When at last he emerged before the eyes and faces of his parents, he fell and spewed (lit. poured) out his life with much blood. Hereupon, Priam, although he is held in the very grip (lit. in the midst) of death already, did not however hold back, nor did he spare his voice or his anger. "But to you," he exclaims, "if there is any righteous power in heaven which cares about such things, may the gods pay fit thanks and return due rewards (to you), in that you forced (lit. made) me to see the death of my son before my very eyes (lit. in my presence), and (thus) defiled a father's sight by his death. But the great Achilles, from whom you falsely say that you were sprung, did not behave so (lit. was not such) in (the case of) his foe Priam, but he respected the rights and the good faith of the suppliant, and returned the bloodless body of Hector for burial (lit. the tomb), and sent me back to my realm." Thus the old man spoke, and cast, without force, his spear, which (was) parried forthwith by his hoarse-sounding bronze (shield), and it hung in vain from the edge of the shield's boss. Pyrrhus (replies) to him: "So, you will report these things, and you will go (as) my messenger to my father, the son of Peleus (i.e. Achilles): remember to tell him about my deplorable deeds, and that Neoptolemus (is) degenerate. Now die!" Saying this, he dragged (him) trembling and slipping in  the  copious (lit. much) blood of his son up to the very altar, and he grasped his hair in his left (hand), and with his right (hand) he brought out his shining sword and plunges (it) into his side as far as the hilt. This (was) the end of Priam's destiny; this death befell him in the lottery (of fate), seeing Troy burned and Pergama fallen headlong, once the proud ruler of (lit. with) so many peoples and lands of Asia. His large trunk lies on the shore, and (also) his head, having been hacked from his shoulders, and a corpse without a name.

Ll. 526-559.  Aeneas, catching sight of Helen, the cause of Troy's downfall, purposes to destroy her. 


And, then, for the first time a wild horror enveloped me. I was stupefied; the image of my dear father (i.e. Anchises) rose (before me), when I saw the aged king choking out his life due to that cruel wound; a forsaken Creusa rises (before me), as do (lit. and) my pillaged home, and the fate of little Iulus. I look back and examine what force is (still) around me. Exhausted, all have deserted (me), and have despatched their bodies to the ground with a jump, or have yielded (them), overcome, to the flames.

And now, indeed, I had survived alone, when I catch sight of the daughter of Tyndareus (i.e. Helen), close to (lit. guarding) the doorway of Vesta and skulking silently in a place apart; the bright flames give light (to me) wandering and directing my gaze (lit. eyes) over everything and in all directions. She, dreading the Teucrians (being) hostile to her on account of  Pergama having been overthrown, and the punishment of the Danaans and the anger of her forsaken husband, (being) an object of revenge (lit. a Fury) to Troy and to her native-land alike, had concealed herself and, hateful creature, was sitting at an altar. Fire flashed in my breast; a passion wells up (within me) to avenge my falling country, and to exact punishment of the guilty: "No doubt," (says I), "this woman will, unharmed, see Sparta and her native Mycenae, and will go back (as) queen, the triumph having been won? Will she see her husband (lit. marriage) and her home, her parents and her children, being accompanied by a retinue of Ilian (i.e. Trojan) women and Phrygian attendants? (Will this be after) Priam will have fallen by the sword, (after) Troy will have burned in the fire? (after) the Dardanian shore will have sweated so often with blood? Not so! For, although there is no memorable glory (lit. name) in the punishment of a woman, nor does (such) a victory bring (lit. have) (any) praise, I shall, however, be praised for having blotted out (such) impiety and for having exacted punishment on (someone so) deserving (of it), and it will please (me) to glut my heart with the fire of vengeance and to obtain satisfaction for the ashes of my people."

Ll. 588-623. Venus, the mother of Aeneas, appears to him and directs him instead to save his father, wife and son. 


I was uttering such (words), and, my mind having been maddened, I was rushing (on) (lit. carrying [myself on]), when my gentle mother presented herself to me, not being seen by my eyes so clearly before, and she shone in a radiant light through the night, manifesting (herself to be) a goddess, and of such a kind and of such a size as she is wont to be seen by the heaven-dwellers. She caught (me) with her right (hand) and restrained (me) (lit. she restrained [me] having been caught with her right [hand]), and moreover she imparted these (words) from her rosy lips: "(O) son, what great grief arouses (in you) this ungovernable anger? What are you raging (about)? Or whither has your regard for me receded? Will you not first see where you have left your father Anchises, wearied with age? (And) whether your wife Creusa and your son Ascanius (i.e. Iulus) are still alive (lit. surviving)? Around them all the Greek hosts are prowling, and, if my care (for them) were not resisting, the flames would already have carried (them) off, and the hostile sword would have devoured (them). (It is not) the appearance of the Lacaenan (i.e. Spartan) daughter of Tyndareus, hateful to you, or Paris, blamed (by you and others), that is overthrowing this wealth, and laying Troy low from its topmost tower, (but) the mercilessness of the gods, (yes) of the gods. (Now) look; for I shall snatch away the cloud, which now, spread before your eyes (lit. drawn before [you] gazing), dulls your mortal vision and, dankly, obscures (everything) around (it): you must not fear any commands of your mother, nor refuse to obey her instructions. Here, where you see shattered masonry and stones wrenched from stones, and smoke billowing, dust having been mixed (with it), Neptune is shaking the walls and foundations (which have been) loosened by his mighty trident, and is pulling down the whole city from its base. Here, Juno is standing (lit. holding [her position]) most cruelly in the forefront at the Scaean gate, and, girt with a sword, is furiouly calling confederate columns from their ships. Look around, Tritonian Pallas is already seated upon the top of the citadel, shining from a cloud, and with the savage Gorgon (on her breast-plate). The (Supreme) Father is supplying courage and heartening strength to the Danaans; he himself is stirring up the gods against Dardanian arms. Snatch your flight, my son, and put an end to your striving. I shall be with you everywhere (lit. I shall be absent nowhere), and shall set you safe at your father's door." She had spoken; and she concealed herself in the dense shadows of the night. Dreadful shapes appear, and mighty presences of the gods, hostile to Troy.

Ll. 624-649.  Aeneas goes in search of his father Anchises, who pleads age and despair in support of his refusal to seek escape.


Then, in truth, all of Ilium (was) seen to me to be sinking down into the fires, and Neptune's Troy to be overthrown from its foundations (lit. bottom); and, (it is) just as when farmers, vying with one another, strive to dislodge an ancient rowan-tree on the top of the mountains, having hewn (it) with iron (wedge) and the frequent (blows of) their axes; it threatens constantly and, trembling (lit. having been made to tremble) in respect of its foliage, it totters, its crest having been violently shaken, until, little by little, having been conquered by its wounds, it heaved a deep sigh and, having been wrenched from its roots, it trailed havoc (down the mountain side). I descend from (the roof), and, the divinity leading, I extricate (myself) between the fire and the foe; weapons give ground, and the flames recede.

But, when, at last, I arrived (lit. [it was] arrived) at the threshold of my father's house and our ancient home, my father, whom I wished, above all, to carry into the high mountains, and (whom) I sought first, refuses, Troy having been destroyed, to prolong his life, and to endure exile. "O you, whose blood (is) untouched by age," he says, "and (whose) strength stands in its own vigour, you must effect your escape.  If the heaven-dwellers had wished me to prolong my life, they would have saved this house for me. (It is) enough and more (than enough) that I have seen one destruction (of the city) and have survived the city being captured. Oh, having bid farewell thus to my body thus placed, go. I, myself, shall find death by my own hand: the enemy will have pity on me, and will be seeking spoils. The loss of a tomb is easy (to bear). I have been (lit. am long since) hateful to the gods, and, useless, I (have been) lingering on for years, from (the time) in which the father of the gods and king of men blasted (lit. blew upon) me with the winds of his thunderbolt and touched (me) with its fire."

Ll.650-670.  Aeneas, in despair, resolves to throw himself once more into the hopeless struggle with the Greeks.


Relating such things, he persevered, and remained fixed (in his resolve). In reply, I, and my wife Creusa, and Ascanius and our whole household, streaming with (lit. outpoured in) tears, (begged him as) our father not to  wish to pull everything (else down) with himself and (thus) to add his weight to (lit. lean upon) our pressing fate. He refuses, and remains fixed (lit. sticks) in the same purpose and (the same) seat. I rush (lit. I am being carried) to (take up) arms again, and, in my deep wretchedness (lit. very wretched), I desire death. For what plan or what chance was left (lit. given) (to us) now?  Were you expecting, father, that I could depart (lit. carry out my foot) with you having been left behind? And does such a great impiety fall from a father's lips? If it is pleasing to the powers above that nothing from such a great city is to be left, and this is fixed (lit. sitting) in your mind, and it pleases (you) to add yourself and your (kin) to Troy being about to perish, the door to that death of yours lies open, and Pyrrhus, (fresh) from the plentiful (lit. much) blood of Priam, will soon be here, (he) who slays a son before his father's face, (and then) the father at an altar. (O) my gentle mother, was it on account of this that you are rescuing me amid the weapons, (and) amid the fires, that I should see the enemy in the innermost parts (of my house), and that (I should see) Ascanius, and my father, and Creusa by their side, sacrificed, each in the other's blood? Arms, men, bring (me) arms: the last dawn (lit. light) is calling the vanquished. (But) we shall never all die today unavenged.

Ll. 670-704.  Creusa pleads with Aeneas to give up his desperate resolve; and her pleas are reinforced by supernatural portents, which move even Anchises. 


Hereupon, I buckle on (lit. am girded with) a sword again, and I was slipping my left (arm) into my shield, fitting (it) into place, and I was rushing (lit. carrying myself) outside the house. But, behold, my wife remained fixed (lit. stuck) in the doorway, clinging to my feet, and she held (lit. stretched) little Iulus out to his father: "If you are going to go to your death (lit. being about to perish), take us with you too to (face) all (your perils); but if you place some hope in the arms which you have taken up (lit. having been taken up), defend this home first. To whom (is) little Iulus, to whom (is) your father, and (to whom) am I, once called your wife, being left? Crying out such (words), she filled the whole house with her groans; when, and marvellous to relate (lit. in the telling), there occurs a sudden miracle. For, behold, a light point (of flame) between the hands and faces of his sorrowful parents (was) seen to be streaming from the top of the head of Iulus, and a flame, harmless to the touch, licked his soft hair. In our terror (lit. terrified), we quaked with fear, and sought to dash out the blazing hair, and to extinguish the holy fire with water. But father Anchises uplifted his hands (lit. hand-palms) to heaven  with these words (lit. this voice): "Almighty Jupiter, if you can be influenced by any prayers, look (down) on us (now) - (I pray) only this (one time) - and, if we are deserving through our piety, give (us) your help now, (O) father, and confirm these omens."

Crying out such (words), she filled the whole house with her groans; when, and (it was) marvellous to relate (lit. in the telling), there occurs a sudden miracle. Scarcely had the old man spoken these (words), when with a sudden crash it thundered on the left, and a star, trailing a fire-brand sliding from the sky through the darkness, sped with a brilliant (lit. much) light. We see it gliding above the top of the roof of our house, and, highlighting the roads, it hides its bright self in the forests of (Mount) Ida; then its trail gives light through its long track, and the place smokes with sulphur far around. Then indeed my father, having been convinced (lit. having been overcome), raises himself up (lit. to the air), and adresses the gods, and worships the holy star. "Now there is no delay any longer; I follow, and where you lead, I am there. Gods of my fathers, save my house, save my grandson! This augury (is) yours, and Troy is in your divine power. For my part, I concede, and, my son, I do not refuse to go (as) companion to you."

Ll. 705-729.  Aeneas, carrying his ancient father and holding his son by the hand, sets out in an attempt to escape.

He had spoken; and now through the town the (roar of the) fire is heard louder, and the fire rolls its heat nearer. "So, come, dear father, be placed on to my back (lit. neck). I, myself, shall support (you) on my shoulders, nor will this labour weigh me down; in whatsoever (way) things shall turn out, one common peril and one salvation will be to (us) both. Let little Iulus be a companion to me, and let my wife follow in my footsteps at a distance. You, my servants, turn what I am saying to your minds. There is (to you), leaving the city, a mound and an old (and) deserted shrine of Ceres, and nearby an ancient cypress-tree, preserved by the veneration of our forefathers for many years: we shall come to this one location from different (directions). You, father, take in your hands our holy things and our fathers' household gods: (it is) wrong that I should touch (them), coming straight (lit. departing) from so great a war and (such) recent slaughter, until I shall have washed myself in a flowing (lit. living) stream. Speaking these (words), I cover over my broad shoulders and bowed neck with a tawny cloak, the skin of a lion; and (then) I take up (lit. undergo) my load. Little Iulus entwined himself in my right (hand), and follows his father with his short (lit. not equal) steps: my wife follows behind. (So) on we go (lit. carry ourselves) through the shadows of the places; and now every gust of wind frightens me, whom lately not any weapons, having been thrown against (me), nor Greeks massed together in hostile array, could move, (and) every sound alarms (me) anxious (as I am) and equally fearful both for my companion and for my burden.

Ll. 730-751.  At the place appointed as a redezvous Aeneas discovers that he wife Creusa is missing. 


I was already near the gates, and I seemed to have traversed the whole way, when suddenly the repeated sound of feet seemed to our ears to be coming, and my father cries out, "Son, flee, son, they are drawing near; I see their shining shields and flashing bronzes." Then I know not what unfriendly (lit. not friendly) power snatched way from me, scared (as I was), my confused wits. For, indeed, while I am following trackless (country) at a run, and I am departing from the familiar direction of roads, alas! did my wife Creusa stop (running), having been snatched away by fate from me, wretched (as I was)? Or did she wander from the path, or did she sink down, exhausted? (It is) uncertain; but afterwards she was not restored to our eyes. And I did not look back at my lost one or turn my mind back (to her) until we had come to the mound and site consecrated to the ancient (worship of) Ceres: here, all (of us) having been gathered together at last, she alone was missing, and had escaped the notice of her companions, her son and her husband. Mad (with horror), whom both among men and among the gods did I not upbraid? Or what more cruel (than this) had I seen in the city having been overthrown? To my comrades I entrusted Ascanius and my father Anchises and the Teucrian household gods, and I conceal (them) in a winding valley; I myself make for the city again, and gird myself with shining armour. I resolve (lit. it stands) to renew all possibilities, and to return through all of Troy, and to expose myself (lit. my head) to dangers again.

Ll. 752-795.  Returning to search for Creusa, Aeneas risks the lives of all his companions, till he is warned to desist by the phantom of Creusa herself.


First, I again make for the walls and the shaded entrance of the gate, through which I had gone out (lit. carried out my step); and I search out and follow backwards my footsteps (lit. I follow backwards my footsteps having been searched out), and with my eyes I look through the (darkness of the) night. Horror (is) everywhere and, at the same time, the very silence terrifies my heart. Thence, I betake myself to our house, (to see) if perhaps she had gone (lit. carried her feet) (thither). The Danaans had poured (lit. rushed) in, and were occupying the whole building. At once, devouring fire is rolled by the wind to the top of the roof; the flames tower above (it); the heat rages to the sky. I go onwards and revisit Priam's palace and the the citadel. And now in the empty colonnades under the protection of Juno, Phoenix and dread Ulysses, having been chosen (as) guards, were keeping watch over the plunder. Hither Trojan treasure, having been seized on all sides from the burnt temples, is being piled together, tables of the gods, mixing bowls solid with gold, and captured garments. Boys and frightened mothers are standing around in a long line. But, even daring to hurl words (lit. voices) through the darkness, I filled the streets with shouts, and, in my sorrow (lit. sad), I called the (name of) Creusa again and again, repeating (it) in vain. To me, searching among the buildings of the city and raging (with a grief) without end, the unhappy ghost and shade of Creusa herself, and a phantom bigger than the known woman, appeared before my eyes. I was stupefied, and my hair stood on end and my voice stuck in my throat. Then, she addressed me thus, and allayed my concerns with these words: " O my sweet husband, how does it help (you) to indulge (yourself) so deeply in this insane grief? These things are not happening without the design of the gods: nor is it permitted, or does that great ruler of high Olympus allow, that you should carry Creusa away from here (as) your companion. (There is) a long exile for you, and a vast expanse of sea (is) needing to be ploughed (by you): and you will come to the land of the Evening Star (i.e. Italy), where the Lydian Tiber flows in a gentle course through ploughlands rich in men; there happy things, a kingdom and a royal bride have been procured for you; drive away your tears for your beloved Creusa! I, being of the blood of Dardanus and the daughter-in-law of divine Venus, shall not see the proud dwellings of the Myrmidons or the Dolopians, nor shall I go to slavery among Greek mothers: but the great mother (i.e. Cybele) is keeping me within these shores. And now, farewell, and guard the love of our common son." When she had spoken (lit. given) these words, she forsook (me) weeping and wishing to say many things, and she  receded into thin air. Three times I tried to put my arms around her neck there; three times the wraith escaped my hands clasping (her) in vain, like light winds and very similar to fleeting sleep. So, the night having been spent, at last I return to my comrades.


Ll. 796-804.  Returning to his companions, Aeneas finds that other fugitives have joined them, and together all make for the mountains.


And here I find, surprisingly, that a large number of new companions has flocked to (us), both mothers and husbands, (and) young men, a pitiable crowd. They came together from all directions, prepared with their resolve and their belongings for whatever lands I may wish to lead (them) to over the sea. And now the Morning Star was rising over the peaks of high Ida, and was bringing the day; and the Danaans held the entrances of the gates (which they had) blocked, nor was any hope of aid given. I yielded, and, my father having been lifted up, I made for the mountains.


  
APPENDIX:   SOME INTERESTING USAGES


1. Gerundives:

l. 118.  'quaerendi':  predicative adjective expressing necessity.
l. 118.  'litandum':    impersonal passive construction expressing necessity.
l. 176.  'temptanda': predicative adjective expressing necessity.
l. 232.  'ducendum': predicative adjective expressing necessity.
l. 232.  'orandaque': predicative adjective expressing necessity.
l. 589.  'videndum':  'in place of a passive present participle.
1.780.  'arandum':   'predicative adjective expressing necessity.

2. Gerunds:

l.   6.   'fando':    ablative (plus object). manner
l.  81.  'fando':    ablative.
l. 137. 'videndi':  genitive (plus object).
l. 361. 'fando':    ablative of the instrument.

3. Supines in -u.

l. 212. 'visu':        ablative of cause.
l. 215. 'morsu':     ablative of manner.
l. 225. 'lapsu':       ablative of manner.
l. 321. 'cursuque': ablative of manner.
l. 382. 'visu':         ablative of cause.
l. 399. 'cursu':       ablative of manner.
l. 680. 'dictu':        ablative of respect.
l. 683. 'tactuque':   ablative of respect.
l. 736. 'cursu':        ablative of manner.

4. Supine in -um:

l. 786.  'servitum':  accusative of purpose following verb of motion.

5. Some impersonals:

l. 317. 'succurrit': 'it occurs (to me)'.
l. 634. 'perventum' (sc. est): 'it was come.
l. 750. 'stat':  'I resolve.'














 


 

Monday, 17 January 2011

EURIPIDES: EXTRACT FROM "ALCESTIS"

Introduction.

Euripides (c.485-406 B.C.) was the last of the three great Fifth Century B.C. Athenian tragedians. "Alcestis", dated to 438 B.C. is his first surviving play, but it is not a tragedy, as it was produced in the place of a satyr play, the semi-comic treatment of a myth, to accompany a set of three tragedies. The background to this extract is as follows. The god Apollo had been condemned by Zeus to serve as the slave of Admetus, King of Pherae, for one year. Because Admetus had treated him well, Apollo promised that, when the time came for him to die, he could escape death if he could find someone willing to die in his place. However, when the time came, Admetus could find no one willing to die for him except his wife Alcestis. Even his parents refused to die on his behalf. In this extract Euripides evokes a mood of very considerable pathos, despite the macabre circumstances of such self-sacrifice. Alcestis, while dying, is evidently anxious that her children should not be subjected to the inevitable cruelties of a step-mother. Admetus, no doubt feeling guilty that he has accepted that his wife should die in his place, tries desperately to think of things he can say to console her.

This text of this extract is taken from "A Greek Anthology", JACT, Cambridge University Press, 2002.

Ll. 280-392. When the play opens, Alcestis is at the point of death. Her children are at her bedside and the chorus of citizens of Thessaly are watching.

ALCESTIS: Admetus, for you see my circumstances, how they are, I wish to tell you, before I die, what I want. I, putting you first, and having arranged for you to see this light (of life) instead of my life, I am dying, (although) it being possible for me not to have died on behalf of you, but to have had a man of the Thessalians whom I wanted, and to have dwelt in wealth in a royal palace. (But) I did not wish to live separated from you with orphaned children, nor did I grudge my youth, (although) having much in which I delighted. Yet your father and mother betrayed you, (although) it having come (to the point) of life for them to die well. For you were an only (child) to them, and there was not any hope, you having died, (of them) begetting other children. And you and I would be living the rest of our lives, and you would not be grieving, having been left alone by your wife, and bringing up your children as orphans. But one of the gods has brought these things about  so that they are thus. So be it! Now you remember (your debt of) gratitude to me for these things. For I shall not ever ask you for a return of equal value [for nothing is more valuable than life], but for what is right, as you will acknowledge; for you love these children no less than I (do), if indeed you are thinking properly; keep them as lords of my palace, and do not marry a step-mother for these children, (as) such a woman being more wicked than me will, in envy, lay her hand upon your children and mine. Do not, I say, do this, I beg you. For a step-mother coming in, hostile to the children of the former time, (is) in no way more gentle than a viper. On the one hand, a male child has his father (as) a great tower; [Alcestis turns to her daughter] but, on the other hand, how will you grow to womanhood well, O my daughter? (I fear) lest, casting upon you some shameful reputation in the prime of your youth, she destroys your marriage (prospects). For your mother will not either ever give you in  marriage or, by being present, encourage (you) in your childbirth, my child, where nothing (is) more comforting than a mother. For it is necessary for me to die; and this disaster comes upon me not tomorrow nor on the third day of the month, but straightaway I shall be numbered among those no longer living. Faring well, may you be happy; for you, husband, it is possible to boast that you took the best wife, and for you, children, that you were born of the best (mother).

CHORUS:  Take courage; for I do not fear to speak on behalf of him; he will do this, if indeed he does not lose his senses.

ADMETUS:  It shall be (thus), it shall be (thus), do not fear; since I had you alive, dead too you alone will be called my wife, and no (other) Thessalian bride will address this man as husband. There is no woman either of such a noble father or of (such) very outstanding beauty either (that I should marry her). I have enough children (lit. there is to me enough of children); I pray to the gods that I may reap the benefit of them; for I have not had the benefit of you. I shall carry my grief for you, not for a year, but for as long as my life shall last, O wife, hating her who bore me and loathing my father; for they were dear in word, not in deed. But you, giving up what (is) most dear in exchange for my life, have saved (me). Surely it is permitted to me to mourn, losing  such a wife as you? I shall put a stop to the revels of drinking companions and the gatherings and the  garlands and the songs that used to fill my palaces. For I shall not ever either touch the lyre or yet raise my spirit to sing to the Libyan flute, for you have taken away the enjoyment from my life. Your body, having been modelled by the skilled hand of craftsmen, will be stretched out on the bed on which I shall fall, and, folding my hands around (you and) calling your name, I shall imagine that I am holding my dear wife in my arms, although not holding (her); (it will be) a cold comfort, I suppose, but nevertheless I may (thus) lighten my heaviness of heart. Perhaps you may cheer me, visiting (me) in dreams for as much time as possible. If the tongue and the music of Orpheus were available to me, so that (by) charming the daughter of Demeter or her husband by songs I should take you from Hades, I should come down and neither the hound of Pluto nor Charon, the ferryman of souls at his oar, should prevent (me) from bringing (you) back to the light alive. But expect me to come there when I die, and prepare a home in order that you may dwell with me. For I shall command these men here to place me in the same cedar coffin with you , and to lay out my limbs near to your limbs; for not even in death may I ever be apart from you, the woman (who) alone (has been) faithful to me.

CH.  And certainly I shall help to bear the bitter grief of her with you, as friend with friend; for she is worthy (of this).

ALC.  O children, you yourselves have heard your father promising not ever to marry another woman (to be) in charge of you, and not to dishonour me.

ADM.  I affirm (this) now, and I shall fulfil it.

ALC.  On these terms, receive the children from my hand..

ADM.  I receive (them), a precious gift from a precious hand.

ALC.  Do you now become the mother of these children in place of me!

ADM.  (It is) a great necessity for me, they having been deprived of you.

ALC.  O children, (at a time) when it is necessary that I should be alive, I am going below.

ADM.  Alas! What then shall I do, being bereft of you.

ALC.  Time will heal you; one who is dead is nothing.

ADM.  Take me with you, by the gods, take (me) below.

ALC.  Dying for you, I suffice.

ADM.  O fate, what a wife you are taking away from me!

ALC.  And, indeed, darkness is weighing down my eyes.

ADM.  I am lost then, if indeed you are going to leave me, wife.

ALC.  As I no longer exist, you may call me nothing.

ADM.  Lift up your head, do not leave your children.

ALC.  (I leave them) certainly not willingly, but farewell, O children.

ADM.  Look, look at them!

ALC.  I no longer exist.

ADM.. What are you doing? Are you forsaking (me)?

ALC.  Farewell!

ADM.  Wretched man, I am lost.

CH.  She has gone, Admetus' wife is no more.

Epilogue.


Despite the tragic mood of this extract, the play actually has a happy ending. Heracles, on the way to one of his twelve labours, arrives at the house of Admetus shortly after Alcestis has died. He is welcomed in accordance with the laws of hospitality, and Admetus tries to conceal the fact that the house is in mourning. When Heracles learns the truth, he goes to fight Death, wins Alcestis back, and restores her to her husband.  


NUNC EST BIBENDUM

"Nunc est bibendum", of which "Now it is time to drink" is but one of the many possible translations, is one of the most famous quotations from Latin literature. It comes from the first line of carmen XXXVII of Horace's Odes, Book I, a poem written to celebrate the news of the death of Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, in 30 B.C. Sabidius' purpose in this article is to analyse the grammatical significance of this short clause and, in particular to discuss whether 'bibendum' is a gerund or gerundive. 

In the sixth section of his article entitled "Gerunds and Gerundives", published on his blog on 6th March 2010, Sabidius highlighted the controversy that exists about whether it is gerunds or gerundives that are employed in contexts such as this one, where the verb involved is intransitive. It should be noted that the term "intransitive" here covers 1) verbs that can have no object at all, e.g. "curro", I run; 2) transitive verbs being used without an object, e.g. "bibo", I drink, in "Nunc est bibendum"; and 3) verbs that can govern a dative but not an accusative, e.g. "pareo", I obey. The former view that the impersonal construction to denote necessity, obligation or propriety, when applied to intransitive verbs, employs the gerund rather than the gerundive is difficult to maintain, because it involves using the nominative (and accusative in the case of indirect statement) when this usage does not otherwise appear, and also because there is no other instance where the gerund has the notions of necessity, obligation or propriety. On the other hand, the currently prevailing view that this construction involves the gerundive requires the acceptance that a passive verbal adjective, which is what a gerundive is, is possible in the case of intransitive verbs, which by their very nature cannot really have a passive voice, and also of seeing how such a passive adjective can be applicable to expressions such as  "Nunc est bibendum", where the existence or relevance of the passive voice is scarcely detectable. In order to investigate further the implications of this dilemma, the various possible translations of this clause and other similar ones are now considered.

Firstly, however, it may be instructive to look at the next part of this opening stanza to Ode XXXVII, the beginning of which reads: "Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero pulsanda tellus (sc. est)", which can be translated as "Now it is time to drink, now we should dance freely". From its ending there is no doubt that "pulsanda" is a gerundive, being used as a predicative adjective in the passive voice, and the literal meaning of this second clause is "The earth is meet-to-be-struck with a free foot". In this context "libero" means "unrestrained", or perhaps "free from the threat of slavery to Cleopatra". This clause is a good example of the use of the gerundive in the case of a transitive verb to denote necessity, etc. If, as many authorities have done, we see "bibendum" in "Nunc est bibendum" as a gerund it can be translated, without any need for a passive expression, simply as "drinking", and "Nunc est bibendum" as "Now there is drinking" or rather, if one uses the verb "sum" in a positive or emphatic sense, "Now it is time to drink", "Now there is time for drinking", or "Now there is drinking to be done". In practice, one of these variants is how this particular sentence is usually translated. However, none of these translations involves an expression of necessity or obligation, and indeed it is difficult to do this at all until a pronoun is added, in this case in the dative case. "Nunc est bibendum nobis" would then mean, "Now it is time for us to drink" or "There is drinking for us to do", with "nobis" as a dative of the agent or dative of interest. In both of these translations, however, the notion of necessity or obligation is marginal, but, if "bibendum" is a gerund, these translations are about as far as one can go to import such a meaning. 

If, on the other hand, one takes the view that "bibendum" is a gerundive being used as an example of the impersonal passive construction, then "bibendum" means "meet-to-be-drunk", or "needing to be drunk", and it is relatively straightforward to import the concept of necessity etc. into the clause "Nunc est bibendum". "Now there is a need to drink" is one possible translation, but there are many other ways in which these three Latin words can be translated into English, while highlighting the idea of necessity, etc. Possible variants include the following: "Now it is necessary to drink", "Now there is a need for drinking/ to drink", "Now there must be drinking", and "Now one must drink". It is worth noting here that the use of the impersonal pronoun "one",  in contexts where a specific personal pronoun is lacking, is a good way of translating such expressions.

At this point, however, it should be recognised that an unidentified personal pronoun should really be understood as the agent behind this exhortatory statement. So, "Nunc est bibendum nobis" would mean: "It is necessary for us to drink" or, more freely, "We must drink" or "We should drink." and, in practice, this is how such clauses, i.e. those involving expressions of necessity etc, in the case of intransitive verbs, are commonly rendered by translators. The difficulty that remains, however, is how it is possible to do justice to the passive nature of gerundives in instances such as "Nunc est bibendum". So, just as the use of a gerund makes it difficult to import the concept of necessity etc., the use of the gerundive makes it difficult to ignore the need for a literal translation to involve the passive voice. Therefore, "Nunc est bibendum" should really be, "Now it is necessary for it (i.e. drink) to be drunk". This is possible, albeit somewhat clumsy.

But, before we can accept that 'bibendum' really is a gerundive, we need to consider whether such an approach, which is designed to bring out the passive nature of gerundives, also works with regard to other intransitive verbs? Let us look at the two verbs used as examples above, i.e. "curro" and "pareo". If justice is to be done to the passive nature of these apparent gerundives, "Currendum est tibi " should therefore be translated as "It is necessary for the race to be run by you", or "There is running to be done by you"; and  "Mihi a te parendum est" as "It is necessary for obedience to be shown by you to me". These literal translations may seem rather contrived or periphrastic, and when actual translations are made it is common to use expressions in the active voice, i.e. "It is necessary for you to run" and "It is necessary for you to obey me." Nevertheless, it is important to recognise the passive basis of these phrases if the argument that words such as "bibendum" are gerundives is to be successfully maintained.

The literal translations of clauses using this construction can undoubtedly be very cumbersome, but the same is also the case with the impersonal passive construction, upon which it is based. An example of this is: "Caesari persuasum est", i.e. Caesar was persuaded, where the literal translation, "It was persuaded to Caesar", can scarcely be admitted as acceptable. "Persuasion is brought to Caesar" is a little better but still clumsy. Third person singular passive forms of intransitive verbs are used exceptionally in the case of the impersonal passive construction, and, if we decide that it is gerundives, not gerunds, that are being used in expressions such as "Nunc est bibendum", then we must regard a gerundive as an additional exceptional passive form in the case of intransitive verbs. This is, frankly, not very easy to accept, particularly since the gerundive of intransitive verbs does not appear in other contexts, and for the reasons given in the opening paragraph of this monograph, it is difficult to be entirely comfortable with either argument. Nevertheless, it is perhaps easier to accept that it is indeed the gerundive being used in this context, since gerunds do not otherwise appear in the nominative or have the force of necessity, etc.

The gerundive, if this is what it is, with the appropriate forms of the verb "sum" in the Second or Passive Periphrastic Conjugation is the most common way in classical Latin to express necessity, obligation or propriety, and the use of the impersonal passive construction with intransitive verbs in this context is particularly common, despite our difficulties of effecting a literal translation of it. Indeed, there are eleven instances of the gerundive being used impersonally to express necessity etc. in Book I of Caesar's "De Bello Gallico", and only four instances of it being used with transitive verbs as a predicative adjective for the same purpose. The use of the gerundive in these two similar but slightly different constructions is an example of the remarkable conciseness of which Latin is capable, but the uncertainty as to whether it is the gerund or gerundive being used when the verbs are intransitive emphasises how such conciseness can sometimes involve an uncertainty of grammatical interpretation.