If he would see him any more alive.
For through this present light—and ne’er again—
Holy Athena, so he said, will drive him
Before her anger. Such calamitous woe
Strikes down the unprofitable growth that mounts
Beyond his measure and provokes the sky.
‘Thus ever,’ said the prophet, ‘must he fall
Who in man’s mould hath thoughts beyond a man.
And Aias, ere he left his father’s door,
Made foolish answer to his prudent sire.
‘My son,’ said Telamon, ‘choose victory
Always, but victory with an aid from Heaven.’
How loftily, how madly, he replied!
‘Father, with heavenly help men nothing worth
May win success. But I am confident
Without the Gods to pluck this glory down.’
So huge the boast he vaunted! And again
When holy Pallas urged him with her voice
To hurl his deadly spear against the foe,
He turned on her with speech of awful sound:
‘Goddess, by other Greeks take thou thy stand;
Where I keep rank, the battle ne’er shall break.’
Such words of pride beyond the mortal scope
Have won him Pallas’ wrath, unlovely meed.
But yet, perchance, so be it he live to-day,
We, with Heaven’s succour, may restore his peace.’—
Thus far the prophet, when immediately
Teucer dispatched me, ere the assembly rose,
Bearing to thee this missive to be kept
With all thy care. But if my speed be lost,
And Calchas’ word have power, the man is dead.
Ch. O trouble-tost Tecmessa, born to woe,
Come forth and see what messenger is here!
This news bites near the bone, a death to joy.
Enter Tecmessa.
Tec. Wherefore again, when sorrow’s cruel storm
Was just abating, break ye my repose?
Ch. (pointing to the Messenger). Hear what he saith,
