Rhesus (613-682)

Here lies he close at hand, not marshalled with the other troops, but outside the ranks Hector has given him quarters,

till night gives place to day. And near him his white horses are tethered to his Thracian chariot, easy to see in the darkness; they shine like the plumage of a river swan. Slay their master and bear them off

home, glorious spoils; for nowhere else in all the world is such a team to be found.

Diomedes, either you slay the Thracian folk, or leave that to me, while your care must be the horses.

I will do the killing, and you master the horses.

For you are well versed in clever tricks, and have a ready wit. And it is right to station a man where he may best serve.

Look! there I see Paris coming towards us; perhaps he has heard from the guard a vague rumor that foes are near.

Are others with him or does he come alone?

Alone; to Hector’s couch he seems to wend his way, to announce to him that spies are in the camp.

Ought he not head the list of slain?

You can not overreach destiny.

It is not decreed that he should fall by your hand. But hasten on your mission of fore-ordained slaughter, while I, feigning to be Cypris, his ally, and to aid him in his efforts, will answer the foe with unsound words.

I tell you this; but the fated victim does not know, nor has he heard, for all he is so near. Exeunt Odysseus and Diomedes.

To you I call, general and brother, Hector, are you asleep? Should you not awake? Some enemy draws near our army,

or thieves perhaps, or spies.

Courage! See, Cypris watches over you in gracious mood. Your warfare is my concern, for I do not forget the honor you once did me, and I thank you for your good service. And now, when the army of Troy is triumphant,

I have come bringing to you a powerful friend, the Thracian child of the Muse, the heavenly singer; his father’s name is Strymon.

Always to this city and to me you are a kind friend, and I am sure that decision I then made

conferred you upon this city, the highest treasure life affords. I came when I heard a vague report—for a rumor prevailed amlng the guards—that Achaean spies are here. One man, that did not see them, says so, while another, that saw them come, cannot describe them;

and so I am on my way to Hector’s tent.

Fear nothing; all is quiet in the army, and Hector has gone to assign a sleeping-place to the Thracian army.

You persuade me, and I believe your words, and will go to guard my post, free of fear.

Go, for it is my pleasure ever to watch your interests, that so I may see my allies prosperous. Yes, and you too shall recognize my zeal. Exit Paris.

In a loud voice, to Odysseus and Diomedes. Son of Laertes, I bid you sheath your whetted swords, you warriors all too keen.

For the Thracian chief lies dead and his horses are captured, but the enemy know it, and are coming against you; fly with all speed to the ships’ station. Why delay saving your lives, when the enemy’s storm is just bursting on you?

Oh, oh! At them, at them! Strike them, strike them!

Who goes there?

Look; I mean that man. There are the thieves who in the gloom disturbed this army.

Come here, here, everyone! I have them, I have clutched them fast.

What is your company? Where did you come from? Who are you?