The Fall of Troy

Name: The Fall of Troy
Author: Quintus, Smyrnaeus, active 4th century

Quintus, Smyrnaeus, active 4th century

Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English; Trojan War -- Poetry; Troy (Extinct city) -- Poetry

Of these things with her handmaids did the Queen
  Of Heaven hold converse, and of many such,
  But Paris, while they talked, gave up the ghost
  On Ida: never Helen saw him more.
  Loud wailed the Nymphs around him; for they still
  Remembered how their nursling wont to lisp
  His childish prattle, compassed with their smiles.
  And with them mourned the neatherds light of foot,
  Sorrowful-hearted; moaned the mountain-glens.

  Then unto travail-burdened Priam's queen
  A herdman told the dread doom of her son.
  Wildly her trembling heart leapt when she heard;
  With failing limbs she sank to earth and wailed:
  "Dead!  thou dead, O dear child!  Grief heaped on grief
  Hast thou bequeathed me, grief eternal!  Best
  Of all my sons, save Hector alone, wast thou!
  While beats my heart, my grief shall weep for thee.
  The hand of Heaven is in our sufferings:
  Some Fate devised our ruin--oh that I
  Had lived not to endure it, but had died
  In days of wealthy peace!  But now I see
  Woes upon woes, and ever look to see
  Worse things--my children slain, my city sacked
  And burned with fire by stony-hearted foes,
  Daughters, sons' wives, all Trojan women, haled
  Into captivity with our little ones!"

  So wailed she; but the King heard naught thereof,
  But weeping ever sat by Hector's grave,
  For most of all his sons he honoured him,
  His mightiest, the defender of his land.
  Nothing of Paris knew that pierced heart;
  But long and loud lamented Helen; yet
  Those wails were but for Trojan ears; her soul
  With other thoughts was busy, as she cried:
  "Husband, to me, to Troy, and to thyself
  A bitter blow is this thy woeful death!
  In misery hast thou left me, and I look
  To see calamities more deadly yet.
  Oh that the Spirits of the Storm had snatched
  Me from the earth when first I fared with thee
  Drawn by a baleful Fate!  It might not be;
  The Gods have meted ruin to thee and me.
  With shuddering horror all men look on me,
  All hate me!  Place of refuge is there none
  For me; for if to the Danaan host I fly,
  With torments will they greet me.  If I stay,
  Troy's sons and daughters here will compass me
  And rend me.  Earth shall cover not my corpse,
  But dogs and fowl of ravin shall devour.
  Oh had Fate slain me ere I saw these woes!"

  So cried she: but for him far less she mourned
  Than for herself, remembering her own sin.
  Yea, and Troy's daughters but in semblance wailed
  For him: of other woes their hearts were full.
  Some thought on parents, some on husbands slain,
  These on their sons, on honoured kinsmen those.

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

The Fall of TroyQuintus, Smyrnaeus, active 4th century

General

The Fall of Troy

Quintus, Smyrnaeus, active 4th century

Epic poetry, Greek -- Translations into English; Trojan War -- Poetry; Troy (Extinct city) -- Poetry

Of these things with her handmaids did the Queen
  Of Heaven hold converse, and of many such,
  But Paris, while they talked, gave up the ghost
  On Ida: never Helen saw him more.
  Loud wailed the Nymphs around him; for they still
  Remembered how their nursling wont to lisp
  His childish prattle, compassed with their smiles.
  And with them mourned the neatherds light of foot,
  Sorrowful-hearted; moaned the mountain-glens.

  Then unto travail-burdened Priam's queen
  A herdman told the dread doom of her son.
  Wildly her trembling heart leapt when she heard;
  With failing limbs she sank to earth and wailed:
  "Dead!  thou dead, O dear child!  Grief heaped on grief
  Hast thou bequeathed me, grief eternal!  Best
  Of all my sons, save Hector alone, wast thou!
  While beats my heart, my grief shall weep for thee.
  The hand of Heaven is in our sufferings:
  Some Fate devised our ruin--oh that I
  Had lived not to endure it, but had died
  In days of wealthy peace!  But now I see
  Woes upon woes, and ever look to see
  Worse things--my children slain, my city sacked
  And burned with fire by stony-hearted foes,
  Daughters, sons' wives, all Trojan women, haled
  Into captivity with our little ones!"

  So wailed she; but the King heard naught thereof,
  But weeping ever sat by Hector's grave,
  For most of all his sons he honoured him,
  His mightiest, the defender of his land.
  Nothing of Paris knew that pierced heart;
  But long and loud lamented Helen; yet
  Those wails were but for Trojan ears; her soul
  With other thoughts was busy, as she cried:
  "Husband, to me, to Troy, and to thyself
  A bitter blow is this thy woeful death!
  In misery hast thou left me, and I look
  To see calamities more deadly yet.
  Oh that the Spirits of the Storm had snatched
  Me from the earth when first I fared with thee
  Drawn by a baleful Fate!  It might not be;
  The Gods have meted ruin to thee and me.
  With shuddering horror all men look on me,
  All hate me!  Place of refuge is there none
  For me; for if to the Danaan host I fly,
  With torments will they greet me.  If I stay,
  Troy's sons and daughters here will compass me
  And rend me.  Earth shall cover not my corpse,
  But dogs and fowl of ravin shall devour.
  Oh had Fate slain me ere I saw these woes!"

  So cried she: but for him far less she mourned
  Than for herself, remembering her own sin.
  Yea, and Troy's daughters but in semblance wailed
  For him: of other woes their hearts were full.
  Some thought on parents, some on husbands slain,
  These on their sons, on honoured kinsmen those.

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

The Fall of Troy

The Fall of Troy

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