Euripides' RHESUS Complete

Translated by E. Coleridge.

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44 pages - You are on Page 37

Charioteer: A sorry deed it was, and more than that a deed most foul;
yea, 'tis an evil doubly bad; to die with glory, if die one must,
is bitterness enough I trow to him who dies; assuredly it is; though
to the living it add dignity and honour for their house. But we, like
fools, have died a death of shame. No sooner had great Hector given
us our quarters and told us the watchword than we laid us down to
sleep upon the ground, o'ercome by weariness. No guard our army set
to watch by night. Our arms we set not in array, nor were the whips
hung ready on the horses' yokes, for our prince was told that you
were masters now, and had encamped hard on their ships; so carelessly
we threw us down to sleep. Now I with thoughtful mind awoke from my
slumber, and with ungrudging hand did measure out the horses' feed,
expecting to harness them at dawn unto the fray; when lo! through
the thick gloom two men I see roaming around our army. But when I
roused myself they fled away, and were gone once more; and I called
out to them to keep away from our army, for I thought they might be
thieves from our allies. No answer made they, so I too said no more,
but came back to my couch and slept again. And lo! as I slept came
a strange fancy o'er me: I saw, methought as in a dream, those steeds
that I had groomed and used to drive, stationed at Rhesus' side, with
wolves mounted on their backs; and these with their tails did lash
the horses' flanks and urge them on, while they did snort and breathe
fury from their nostrils, striving in terror to unseat their riders.
Up I sprang to defend the horses from the brutes, for the horror of
the night scared me. Then as I raised my head I heard the groans of
dying men, and a warm stream of new-shed blood bespattered me where
I lay close to my murdered master as he gave up the ghost. To my feet
I start, but all unarmed; and as I peer about and grope to find my
sword, a stalwart hand from somewhere nigh dealt me a sword-thrust
beneath the ribs. I know the sword that dealt that blow from the deep
gaping wound it gave me. Down on my face I fell, while they fled clean
away with steeds and chariot. Alack, alack! Tortured with pain, too
weak to stand, a piteous object I know what happened, for I saw it;
but how the victims met their death I cannot say, nor whose the hand
that smote them; but I can well surmise we have our friends to thank
for this mischance.

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