Will they remain beside our galleys here,
Or do they meditate, since, as they say,
The Greeks are beaten, a return to Troy?”
Dolon, Eumedes’ son, made answer thus:—
“What thou requirest I will truly tell.
Hector is with his counsellors, and now,
Apart from all the bustle, at the tomb
Of Ilus the divine, he plans the war.
Sentries, of whom thou speakest, there are none;
No chosen band, O hero! has in charge
To guard the camp. By all their blazing fires,
Constrained by need, the Trojans keep awake,
And each exhorts his fellow to maintain
The watch: not so the auxiliar troops who came
From far: they sleep, and since they have no wives
Nor children near, they let the Trojans watch.”
Then thus the man of wiles, Ulysses, spake:—
“How sleep they—mingled with the knights of Troy
Or by themselves? Tell me, that I may know.”
Dolon, Eumedes’ son, made answer thus:—
“What thou requirest I will truly tell.
On one hand, toward the sea, the bowmen lie
Of Caria and Paeonia, and with them
Lelegans, Caucons, and the gallant tribe
Of the Pelasgians. On the other hand,
Toward Thymbra, are the Lycians, the proud race
Of Mysia, Phrygia’s knights, and cavalry
Of the Maeonians. Why should ye inquire
The place of each? If ye design tonight
To penetrate into the Trojan camp,
There are the Thracians, newly come, apart
From all the others: with them is their king,
Rhesus, the son of Eioneus; his steeds
Are far the largest and most beautiful
I ever saw—the snow is not so white,
The wind is not so swift. His chariot shines
With gold and silver, and the coat of mail
In which he came to Troy is all of gold,
And gloriously and marvellously bright,
Such as becomes not mortal men to wear,
But the gods only. Now to your swift Ships
Lead me; or bind me fast with thongs, and here
Leave me till your return; and ye shall know
Whether the words I speak be true or false.”
Then sternly spake the gallant Diomed:—
“Once in our hands a prisoner, do not think,
O Dolon! to escape, though thou hast told
Things that shall profit us. For if we now
Release thee thou wilt surely come again
To the Greek fleet, a spy, or openly
To fight against us. If I take thy life,
’Tis certain thou wilt harm the Greeks no more.”
He spake. And as the suppliant took his chin
In his large hand, and had begun a prayer,
He smote him with his sword at the mid-neck,
And cut the tendons both; the severed head,
While yet he spake, fell, rolling in the dust.
And then they took his helm of otter-skin
The wolf’s-hide, sounding bow, and massive spear.
The nobly born Ulysses in his hand
Lifted the trophies high, devoting them
To Pallas, deity of spoil, and prayed:—
“Delight thyself, O goddess, in these arms,
For thee we first invoke, of all the gods
Upon Olympus. Guide us now to find
The camp and coursers of the sons of Thrace.”
He spake; and, raising them aloft, he hung
The spoils upon a tamarisk, and brake
Reeds and the spreading branches of the tree
To form a mark, that so on their return
They might not, in the darkness, miss the spot.
Then onward, mid strewn arms and pools of blood,
They went, and soon were where the Thracians lay.
There slept the warriors, overpowered with toil;
Their glittering arms were near them, fairly ranged
In triple rows, and by each suit of arms
Two coursers. Rhesus slumbered in the midst.
Near him were his fleet horses, which were made
Fast to the chariot’s border by the reins.
Ulysses saw them first, and, pointing, said:—
“This is the man, O Diomed, and these
The steeds, described by Dolon whom we slew.
Come, then; put forth thy strength of arm, for ill
Doth it become thee to stand idle here,
Armed as thou art. Loose thou the steeds; or else
Slay thou the men, and leave the steeds to me.”
He spake. The blue-eyed Pallas straightway gave
Strength to Tydides, who on every side
Dealt slaughter. From the smitten by the sword
Rose fearful groans; the ground was red with blood.
As when a ravening lion suddenly
Springs on a helpless flock of goats or sheep,
So fell Tydides on the Thracian band,
Till twelve were slain. Whomever Diomed
Approached and smote, the sage Ulysses seized,
And drew him backward by the feet, that thus
The flowing-maned coursers might pass forth
Unhindered, nor, by treading on the dead,
Be startled; for they yet were new to war.
Now when the son of Tydeus reached the king—
The thirteenth of his victims—him he slew
As he breathed heavily; for on that night
A fearful dream, in shape Oenides’ son,
Stood o’er him, sent by Pallas. Carefully
Ulysses meantime loosed the firm-paced steeds,
And, fastening them together, drave them forth,
Urging them with his bow: he had not thought
To take the showy lash that lay in sight
On the fair chariot-seat. In going thence
He whistled, as a sign to Diomed,
Who lingered, pondering on his next exploit—
Whether to seize the chariot where was laid
The embroidered armor, dragging it away;
Or, lifting it aloft, to bear it thence;
Or take more Thracian lives. As thus his thoughts
Were busy, Pallas, standing near him, spake:—
“O son of large-souled Tydeus, think betimes
Of thy return to where the galleys lie;
Else may some god arouse the sons of Troy,
And thou be forced to reach the ships by flight.”
She spake. He knew the goddess by her voice,
And leaped upon a steed. Ulysses lashed
The horses with his bow, and on they flew
Toward the swift galleys of the Grecian host.
Apollo, bearer of the silver bow,
Kept no vain watch, and, angry when he saw
Minerva at the side of Diomed,
Down to the mighty host of Troy he came,
And roused from sleep a Thracian counsellor—
Hippocoön, a kinsman of the house
Of Rhesus. Leaping from his couch, he saw
The vacant spot where the swift steeds had stood,
And, weltering in their blood, the dying chiefs,
He saw, and wept aloud, and called by name
His dear companion. Then a clamor rose,
And boundless tumult, as the Trojans came
All rushing to the spot, and marvelling
At what the daring warriors, who were now
Returning to the hollow ships, had done.
And when these warriors now had reached the spot
Where Hector’s spy was slain, Ulysses, dear
To Jupiter, reined in the fiery steeds,
And Diomed leaped down and took the spoil
Blood-stained, and gave it to Ulysses’ hands,
And mounted. Then again they urged the steeds,
Which, not unwilling, flew along the way.
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