Quintus Smyrnaeus: Ares and his sister maddened there

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Anti-war essays, poems, short stories and literary excerpts

Greek and Roman writers on war and peace

Quintus Smyrnaeus: In his talons bore a gasping dove. Where never ceased Ares from hideous slaughter.

Quintus Smyrnaeus: Mass murder’s tropes: Dread Ares drank his fill of blood

Quintus Smyrnaeus: While here all war’s marvels were portrayed, there were the works of lovely peace

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Quintus Smyrnaeus
From The Fall of Troy
Translated by Arthur S. Way

…when the whole host reached the walls of Troy, into the city of Priam, breathing rage of fight, with reckless battle-lust they poured; and all that fortress found they full of war and slaughter, palaces, temples, horribly blazing on all sides; glowed their hearts with joy. In deadly mood then charged they on the foe. Ares and fell Enyo maddened there: blood ran in torrents, drenched was all the earth, as Trojans and their alien helpers died. Here were men lying quelled by bitter death all up and down the city in their blood; others on them were falling, gasping forth their life’s strength; others, clutching in their hands their bowels that looked through hideous gashes forth, wandered in wretched plight around their homes: others, whose feet, while yet asleep they lay, had been hewn off, with groans unutterable crawled mid the corpses. Some, who had rushed to fight, lay now in dust, with hands and heads hewn off. Some were there, through whose backs, even as they fled, the spear had passed, clear through to the breast, and some whose waists the lance had pierced, impaling them where sharpest stings the anguish-laden steel. And all about the city dolorous howls of dogs uprose, and miserable moans of strong men stricken to death; and every home with awful cries was echoing. Rang the shrieks of women, like to screams of cranes, which see an eagle stooping on them from the sky, which have no courage to resist, but scream long terror-shrieks in dread of Zeus’s bird; so here, so there the Trojan women wailed, some starting from their sleep, some to the ground leaping: they thought not in that agony of robe and zone; in naught but tunics clad distraught they wandered: others found nor veil nor cloak to cast about them, but, as came onward their foes, they stood with beating hearts trembling, as lettered by despair, essaying, all-hapless, with their hands alone to hide their nakedness. And some in frenzy of woe: their tresses tore, and beat their breasts, and screamed. Others against that stormy torrent of foes recklessly rushed, insensible of fear, through mad desire to aid the perishing, husbands or children…. Shrieks had startled from their sleep soft little babes whose hearts had never known trouble – and there one with another lay gasping their lives out! Some there were whose dreams changed to a sudden vision of doom. All round the fell Fates gloated horribly o’er the slain. And even as swine be slaughtered in the court of a rich king who makes his folk a feast, so without number were they slain. The wine left in the mixing-bowls was blent with blood gruesomely. No man bare a sword unstained with murder of defenceless folk of Troy, though he were but a weakling in fair fight. And as by wolves or jackals sheep are torn, what time the furnace-breath of midnoon-heat darts down, and all the flock beneath the shade are crowded, and the shepherd is not there, but to the homestead bears afar their milk; and the fierce brutes leap on them, tear their throats, gorge to the full their ravenous maws, and then lap the dark blood, and linger still to slay all in mere lust of slaughter, and provide an evil banquet for that shepherd-lord; so through the city of Priam Danaans slew one after other in that last fight of all. No Trojan there was woundless, all men’s limbs with blood in torrents spilt were darkly dashed.