- By David B. Gosselin
The Lament of Tros
Ganymede was the loveliest born of the race of mortals, and therefore the gods caught him away to themselves, to be Zeus' wine-pourer, for the sake of his beauty, so he might be among the immortals.
— Homer, Iliad, Book XX, lines 233-235.[1]
His eyes cut through the misty grey,
Like hawks when they espy their prey:
“Those rose red cheeks and pearl white skin
Are the reason Earth abounds with sin!”
Thought Zeus with his propitious eyes
Fixed on high Phrygian mountains,
For one who could attend his fountains,
Which lonely streamed with pleasure’s sighs.
And there he was, happily singing,
With bleating lambs through green hills ringing,
Young Ganymede and his dear flock,
Departed on their rustic walk.
But distant eyes from heaven’s heights,
Like hawks before they seize their prey,
The eyes of Jove devoured the sights,
Which soon would be his mortal prey.
Not yet a man, but soon would be
With strides and grace which all could see
Would stun Apollo's fiery eye,
And make the grey-eyed Juno cry;
For havened on his brow were golden
Curls, fresh like Bacchus’ vine,
Which left this mightiest God beholden
To a boy so fair to bear his wine.
Thus Zeus did feast with leering eyes
Upon the flesh which tells a thousand lies,
Upon such beautiful carrion,
Which blinds men more than bright Hyperion;
To seize upon one gentle mortal,
Whose race like frightened ghosts
For one sad moment tread earth’s portal,
And then sink down to Dis’ coasts.
His father Tros of Dardania[2],
Sings hymns with Polyhymnia,
For Ganymede his cherub son;
Through Troy his love always sung:
“He is by all the stars beheld
With beauty brighter than the sun,
He’ll never know the joy, whose never held
Something so dear as Ganymede, my son.”
So hoary Zeus sought out legions,
To send down to the earthly regions
With a plan, which by himself devised
Might win for him what Gods most prize:
For a mortal kiss if caught
Is sweeter than a honeyed rose,
Melting in midst of very picking,
Even before the day can close.
“With dances and banquets and sparkling wine
No more can Fate lay you supine
Upon the mortal sod in lamentation,
As earth is leveled with execration;
While Cupid renders hearts asunder
On the plains of sad mortality,
Above you’ll hear nothing but thunder
Of Gods who reign in ecstasy.”
Zeus sang—his Godly plan devised—
Then selected his pet most prized
To steal from Troy a mortal boy,
Whose Beauty then none could destroy:
An Olympian eagle with golden
Beak and silver pointed talon,
Who each by him beholden
Was a soul he sent to Charon.
Quicker than Pegasus he flew
—While morning was still sweet with dew—
As sheep and lambs were bleating,
About the breezes softly fleeting.
But the image for Tros forebodes
As the eagle gracefully fanned
Through Trojan skies, perhaps for folds,
So wont to steal a Phrygian lamb.
For all the sky was emblazoned
With talons shining like diamond,
As he arrived from high above
Upon the unsuspecting dove:
Just as the bird prepared his claw,
The boy shepherded his new lamb,
And only from a distance saw
An eagle of such wide wing-span.
For there he was, so happily singing,
With bleating lambs through green hills ringing,
Young Ganymede with frightened flock,
Where all but he in fear did walk.
For distant eyes, from heaven’s heights,
Like hawks before they seize their prey,
Keen eyes will first devour the sights,
Which soon become their mortal prey.
King Tros, with deepest trepidation,
Now made a portly declamation,
For all to aid and charge with steed,
“Assist me in this harrowing deed!”
The women ran throughout the fields
While men raced out with desperate horse,
Hoping that Fate to Beauty yields,
That Troy not bear the heaven’s curse.
Alone, among the muted field,
The eagle’s guile hid in his smile,
To which fair Ganymede began to yield—
So curious and innocent a child.
The eagle asked him with a grin
If he would like to see the stars,
To live in joy without a sin,
In paradise, with heaven’s cars.
The frightened lambs fled from the fields
As hills all shined with Troy’s bright shields,
Like seas when sun-rays shimmer
Over the deep horizon’s glimmer;
“Release poor helpless Ganymede!”
One heard the hills all crying
As Tros did helplessly plead,
And Zeus like hounds was salivating.
But frozen like a helpless deer,
The boy stood still transfixed with fear,
To flee such talons he did not dare,
Despite the cries that filled the air:
He could not move, nor father heed,
His feet helpless feet began to float;
How from his heart the tears did bleed
As he vanished passed the heavens’ moat.
His father, Tros of Dardania,
With tears now filled his cornucopia,
Upon his knees and supplicating,
And to the God of Gods lamenting:
“He is by all the stars beheld
With beauty brighter than the sun:
You’ll never know the pain until you’ve held
Something so dear as Ganymede, my son.”
“Release poor helpless Ganymede!”
One heard the Trojan people plead;
They cried and vainly shouted,
As the boy was mercilessly touted
Into the twilight horizon:
In vain did the hills of Troy stare,
Hearing his bleating orison,
While carried back to Zeus’ lair.
June 2017
[1] Translation by Richard Lattimore
[2] Tros the reputed founder of Troy