![]() ![]() Pleasant is it to the unhappy to speak, and to recall the sorrows of old time. Close heed they gave her then, and nobler she seemed and worthy of honour, and equal to such a deed then all craved to learn her story, and father Adrastus foremost urged her: “Ay, verily, while we set in long array the columns of our van – nor does Nemea readily allow a broad host to draw clear, so closely hemmed is she by woodland and entangling shade – tell us of the crime, and of thy praiseworthy deed and the sufferings of thy people, and how cast out from thy realm thou art come to this toil of thine.” Thus much doth it suffice to tell: I am Hypsipyle, born of renowned Thoas, and captive thrall to your Lycurgus.” But why do I weave the long prelude to my woes? Moreover battle summons you and your hearts’ high enterprise. The Lemnian sighed, and, stayed by shamefast tears awhile, then makes reply: “Deep are the wounds, O prince, thou biddest me revive, the tale of Lemnos and its Furies and of murder done even in the bed’s embrace, and of the shameful sword whereby our manhood perished ah! the wickedness comes back upon me, the freezing Horror grips my heart! Ah! miserable they, upon whom this frenzy came! alas, that night! alas, my father! for I am she – lest haply ye feel shame for your kindly host – I am she, O chieftains, who alone did steal away and hide her father. Then the son of Talaus, ringed round once more by a band of chieftain peers, as he stood by chance beneath an aged ash-tree, and leaned on Polynices’ spear hard by him, thus spoke: “Nay, tell us, thou, whoe’er thou art, to whom – such is thy glory – fate 3 has brought our countless cohorts owing thee such high honour as the Sire of the gods himself would not despise – tell us, now that we are departing in all speed from thy waters, what is thy home or native land, from what stars didst thou draw thy life? 4 And who was that sire thou spakest of? For heaven is not far to seek in thy descent, though fortune may have been traitorous a nobler birth is in thy looks, and even in affliction thy countenance breathes majesty.” ![]() Soon will it be their delight to breast the north wind and the rain, soon to swim on the melted rivers, and to spend the summer days on naked Haemus. Just so do flocks of screaming birds, 1 caught by the Pharian summer, wing their way across the sea from Paraetonian 2 Nile, whither the fierce winter drove them they fly, a shadow upon the sea and land, and their cry follows them, filling the pathless heaven. Already the first dust is rising from the earth, and arms are flashing through the trees. Marshalled again in squadrons and the stern discipline of rank, they are bidden renew the march, each in his former place and under the same leader as before. Their thirst was quenched by the river, and the army having ravaged the water’s depths was leaving the banks and the diminished stream more briskly now the galloping steed scours the plain, and the infantry swarm exultant over the fields, inspired once more by courage and hope and warlike temper, as though from the blood-stained springs they had drunk the fire of battle and high resolution for the fray. Theseus & Burial of the Dead THEBAID BOOK 5, TRANSLATED BY J.
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