Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/512

484 Is bitterness to him who dies—how not?

Yet fame and honour crown his living kin.

But, as a fool dies, fameless we have died.

For, soon as Hector pointed us our quarters,

And told the watchword, couched on earth we slept,

Outworn with toil: our host no watchmen set

For nightlong guard, nor rank by rank were laid

Our arms, nor from the horses' yokes were hung

The car-whips, since our king had word that ye

Were camped triumphant nigh the galley-sterns:

So, careless all, we flung us down and slept.

Now I with heedful heart from slumber rose,

And dealt the steeds their corn with stintless hand,

Looking to yoke them with the dawn for fight.

Then spied I twain that prowled around our host

Through the thick gloom; but, soon as I bestirred me,

They cowered low, and straight drew back again.

I cried to them to come not near our host,—

Deeming some thieves from our allies drew nigh:—

Nought said they; neither added I thereto,

But to my couch went back and slept again.

And in my sleep a vision nightmared me:—

The steeds I tended, and at Rhesus' side

Drave in the car, I saw as in a dream

Mounted of wolves that rode upon their backs;

And with their tails these lashed the horses' flanks,

Scourging them on. They snorted, and outbreathed

Rage from their nostrils, tossing high their manes.

I, even in act to save from those fierce things

The steeds, woke: the night-horror smote me awake.

Then death-moans, as I raised my head, I heard;