Page:Statius (Mozley 1928) v1.djvu/485

the son of Haemon; all this he had foreseen, taught of omens from the air nor deceived by any bird; nor had he feared to deter his chieftain, but the fates deprived his warnings of belief. His doom is to be pitied as a useless life; in terror he receives Tydeus’ stern behest: “Whosoever of the Aonians thou art, whom saved by my bounty from uttermost darkness to-morrow’s Dawn shall yet behold, this message I command thee to carry to thy prince: Raise a mound about your gates, renew your weapons, see to your old and mouldering walls, mind above all to marshall your men in close array and press troop on troop; look now at this field, everywhere smoking from my sword: even so do we make war!”

So speaking, he prepares for thee, O Pallas, of thy deserving a fair guerdon from the gory rout, and in joy collects the booty lying there and surveys all his mighty deeds. Upon a hillock in mid-plain there was an oak tree, long time forgetful of its tender youth, with curving boughs and rude strength of trunk and thick encompassing bark. To this he brings and fastens smooth helmets and armour pierced by many a stroke, to this he binds swords that his blows have broken short and spears pulled out from limbs yet breathing. Standing then on the heap of arms and bodies he thus begins, while night and the long ridges make echo to his prayer: “Stern goddess, glory and wisdom of thy mighty sire, powerful in war, thou on whose cheeks the terrible splendour of thy grim casque and blood-besprinkled Gorgon glow fierce with rage,—nor did ever Mavors or Bellona with her battle-spear inspire more furious trumpet-blasts—look favourably on this offering, whether thou comest from Pandion’s hilla ^[1] to be