Page:Statius (Mozley 1928) v1.djvu/589

rend him. But lo! with numerous train comes the jealous Tantalid,^[1] and proud in her grief counts o’er the bodies, nought humbled by her woes; she rejoices to have escaped the power of heaven, and now to give freer rein to her mad tongue.”

While the chaste priestess thus recounts the tale to her father, his hoary locks trembling rise erect with lifted chaplet, and his pale visage throbs with a rush of blood. No longer rests he on the supporting staff or faithful maiden, but standing upright cries: “Cease thy song, my daughter, enough have I of external light, the sluggish mists depart, black night flees from my face. Comes it from the shades or from Apollo on high, this flooding inspiration? Lo! I behold all that thou didst tell me of. Behold! there mourn the Argive ghosts with eyes downcast! grim Abas, guilty Proetus and gentle Phoroneus, and Pelops maimed^[2] and Oenomaus soiled with cruel dust, all bedew their faces with plenteous tears. Hence do I prophesy for Thebes a favouring issue of the war. But what means this dense throng of warrior-souls, for such their wounds and weapons prove them? Why show they gory faces and breasts, and with unsubstantial clamour raise and shake at me threatening arms? Do I err, O king, or are these that band of fifty^[3]? Chthonius thou dost behold, and Chromis and Phegeus and Maeon distinguished by my laurel. Rage not, ye chieftains, no mortal, believe me, dared that enterprise; ’twas iron Atropos span you those destined years.