Prologos
HECTOR.
No! Welcome, friend, with all thy tale of fear!
It shows they mean to fly: they mean to clear
Decks in the dark and so delude my sight . . .
I like that beacon-burning in the night.
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O Zeus above, who checked my conquering way,
Who baulked the hungry lion of his prey
Or ever I could sweep my country clear
Of these despoilers, dost thou hate my spear?
Had but the sun’s bright arrows failed me not,
I ne’er had rested till the ships were hot
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With fire, and through the tents upon the plain
This bloody hand had passed and passed again!
Myself, I longed to try the battle-cast
By night, and use God’s vantage to the last,
But sage and prophet, learned in the way
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Of seercraft, bade me wait for dawn of day,
And then—leave no Greek living in the land.
They wait not, they, for what my prophets planned
So sagely. In the dark a runaway
Through our whole array
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Send runners! Bid them shake off sleep and wait
Ready with shield and spear. ’Tis not too late
To catch them as they climb on board, and slash
Their crouching shoulders till the gangways splash
With blood, or teach them, fettered leg and arm,
To dig the stiff clods of some Trojan farm.
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LEADER.
My Prince, thy words run fast. Nor thou nor I
Have knowledge yet that the Greeks mean to fly.
HECTOR.
What makes them light their beacons? Tell me, what?
LEADER.
God knows! And, for my part, I like it not.
HECTOR.
What, feared? Thou wouldst be feared of everything!
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LEADER.
They never lit such light before, O King.
HECTOR.
They never fled, man, in such wild dismay.
LEADER
’Twas all thy work.—Judge thou, and we obey.
HECTOR.
My word is simple. Arm and face the foe.
LEADER.
Who comes? Aeneas, and in haste, as though
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Fraught with some sudden tiding of the night.
AENEAS.
Hector, what means it? Watchers in affright
Who gather shouting at thy doors, and then
Hold midnight council, shaking all our men?
HECTOR.
To arms, Aeneas! Arm from head to heel!
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AENEAS.
What is it? Tidings? Doth the Argive steal
Some march, some ambush in the day’s eclipse?
HECTOR.
’Tis flight, man! They are marching to the ships.
AENEAS.
How know’st thou?—Have we proof that it is flight?
HECTOR.
They are burning beacon-fires the livelong night.
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They never mean to wait till dawn. Behind
That screen of light they are climbing in the blind
Dark to their ships—unmooring from our coast.
AENEAS.
God guide them!—Why then do you arm the host?
HECTOR.
I mean to lame them in their climbing, I
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And my good spear, and break them as they fly.
Black shame it were, and folly worse than shame,
To let these spoilers go the road they came
Unpunished, when God gives them to us here.
AENEAS.
Brother, I would thy wit were like thy spear!P. 8, 1. 105, Brother! I would thy wit were like thy spear!]—In Homer Hector is impulsive and over-daring, but still good in counsel. On the stage every quality that is characteristic is apt to be over-emphasized, all that is not characteristic neglected. Hence on the Attic stage Odysseus is more crafty, Ajax and Diomedes more blunt, Menelaus more unwarlike and more uxorious than in Homer. This speech of Aeneas, though not inapposite, is rather didactic—a fault which always remained a danger to Euripides.
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But Nature wills not one man should be wise
In all things; each must seek his separate prize.
And thine is battle pure. There comes this word
Of beacons, on the touch thy soul is stirred:
They fly! Out horse and chariots!—Out withal
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Past stake and trench, while night hangs like a pall!
Say, when we cross that coiling depth of dyke,
We find the foe not fled, but turned to strike;
One check there, and all hope of good return
Is gone. How can our men, returning, learn
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The tricks of the palisade? The chariots how
Keep to the bridges on the trenches’ brow,
Save with jammed wheels and broken axles? Aye,
And say thou conquer: other wars yet lie
Before thee. Peleus’ son, for all his ire,
Will never let thee touch the ships with fire
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Or pounce on his Greek lambs. The man will bide
No wrong and standeth on a tower of pride.
Nay, brother, let the army, head on shield,
Sleep off its long day’s labour in the field:
Then, send a spy; find someone who will dare
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Creep to yon Argive camp. Then, if ’tis clear
They mean flight, on and smite them as they fly.
Else, if the beacons hide some strategy,
The spy will read it out, and we can call
A council.—Thus speak I, my general.
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