Chapter XLI: Book VII: Jupiter is vexed that the Argives should delay the war by

holding games—and readers may sympathize with Jupiter’s feeling in mid-epic. A further intervention is made by Mars and Bacchus. Eteocles hears of the Argive advance, and there follows a catalogue of the host, as pointed out by old Phorbas to Antigone, sister of the arch-opponents, while they look forth from a tower in Thebes. Jocasta, mother of Polynices, comes forth

In all the mighty majesty of woe
(_egreditur magna cum maiestate malorum_)[1394]

to carry the olive branch (_ramum oleae_) into her son’s camp and make an appeal for peace. Polynices is touched; but, while he is wavering, Tydeus intervenes, bitterly recalling the treachery to which he had been subjected by Eteocles. The overtures fail: the Fury rouses the old passion for blood: fighting begins. A Theban warrior longs to slay Amphiaraus, counting other victims trivial in comparison. But another doom was appointed for him: Apollo diverts the fatal weapon to his charioteer, and takes the dead driver’s place, spreading death everywhere as the chariot careers on its dread path among bleeding corpses and dying men. Then by a solemn intuition Amphiaraus realizes the presence of Apollo and his own nearness to the brink of the other world:

“Long since, Cirrhaean sire, my quivering car
Told me ’twas thou that by my fated team
Didst sit (why honour human frailty thus?)
How long wilt thou delay th’ approaching ghosts?
I hear e’en now the Stygian torrent’s rush,
Pluto’s black rivers and the triple bark
Of hellish watch-hound. Take my laurel crown,
Take now thine honours girt about my head:
To carry these to hell were sacrilege.
With my last words—if aught of thanks thou ow’st
Unto thy prophet passing hence—to thee,
Phoebus, I trust a home betrayed, and doom
Of wife accurst, and generous wrath of son.”
—Down leaped Apollo sad, but hid his tears.[1395]

Then came the mysterious passing, as the ground opened beneath the doomed man:

Sheer yawned the earth below with jaws profound.
Dread seized in turn on stars and shadowland.
Him did that cavern measureless drink down,
Engulfing steeds that made as if to cross.
He loosed not grip of weapon or of rein,
But, as he was, drove straight for Tartarus,
And, ever lower fallen, gazed at heaven,
Groaning to see the land close over him,
Until a lighter shock conjoined again
The parted fields and blocked daylight from Hell.[1396]