Aeneid Book 2 in Schiller's German translation, stanzas 95 - 97
by Schiller
Priam, King of Troy finds himself confronted by the son of the dead Achilles, Pyrrhus, who has just killed one of Priam’s sons in front of him.
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95
So, wahrlich, hielt’s mit seinem Feinde nicht
Achill, den du zum Vater dir gelogen,
Es ehrte mit erröthendem Gesicht
Der Held mein Alter und der Liebe Pflicht,
Als ich zu ihm, ein Flehender, gezogen;
Er weigerte mir Hektors Leichnam nicht,
Des Todten Feier würdig zu begehen,
Und ließ mich Troja wiedersehen.
96
Mit diesen Worten schleudert er den Schaft,
Der ohne Klang der schwachen Hand enteilet
Und, aufgefangen von des Gegners Kraft,
Des Schildes Spitze kaum zertheilt.
Geh’ denn, erwiedert Pyrrhus ihm voll Hohn,
Sag’ dem Achill*, wie sehr ihn meine Thaten schänden!
Verklage dort den tiefgesunknen Sohn!
Jetzt aber stirb von meinen Händen!
97
Er reißt den Zitternden, dies sagend, zum Altare,
Der noch vom Blut des Kindes raucht,
Faßt mit der linken Hand die silbergrauen Haare,
Indeß die Rechte tief sich in den Busen taucht.
So endigt’ Priamus. Sein Aug’ sah Troja brennen,
Die über Asien den Scepter ausgestreckt,
Jetzt ein gigant’scher Rumpf, am Meeresstrand entdeckt,
Es fehlt das Haupt, und Niemand kann ihn nennen.
95
“Truly, Achilles, whom you lyingly claim as father, did not behave so to his enemy – with a blush on his face, when I approached him as a supplicant, the hero showed respect to my age and the duty owed by love: he did not deny me Hector’s body, worthily to receive his funeral rites, and allowed me to see Troy once more!”
96
With these words Priam threw the shaft, that flew but softly from his feeble hand and, turned aside by his opponent’s strength, barely nicked the shield’s rim. “Go then,” retorted Pyrrhus, full of scorn, “tell Achilles for yourself how much my deeds disgrace him! Complain to him how low his son has sunk! But now, die at my hands!”
97
So saying, he hauls the shaking Priam to the altar, still smoking with the blood of Priam’s child, grasps in his left hand his silver-grey hair while stabbing deep into his breast with his right. Such was the end of Priam: Troy, that had stretched out her sceptre over Asia, his eyes saw burning. Now, a giant trunk seen lying on the strand, he lacks a head, and no man knows his name.
