TALES OF THE GREEKS
but dared not come too near the old warrior. His horse stumbled among the crags, and he lay stunned. When he came to himself they bound his hands behind his back, and led him to the city. The Messenians beheld this famous captain led through their streets like an evil-doer, and some of them pitied him and some shed tears. He was put in a cell that had no light in it, nor had it a door, for it was closed by a huge block of stone.
As Philopœmen lay in this dungeon, covered with a cloak, he could not sleep. His thoughts kept going back to his wars, to Greece, and to his capture.
A light flashed in the dark cell. By the prisoner's bedside stood a man holding a lamp in one hand and a cup in the other. The cup contained poison. Philopœmen quite understood. He knew he must drink. When he had taken the cup, he asked:
“What became of my cavalry? Did they escape?”
“Yes,” said the jailer; “they nearly all escaped.”
The prisoner nodded his head as if much pleased.
“Thou bringest good tidings,” he answered, “and I am not so unhappy as I should have been if I had not had this news.”
So saying, he drank the poison, and lay down again. Presently he was dead.
162
