Aeneid (Williams)/Book II

A general silence fell; and all gave ear, While, from his lofty station at the feast, Father Æneas with these words began:—

A grief unspeakable thy gracious word, O sovereign lady, bids my heart live o’er: How Asia’s glory and afflicted throne The Greek flung down; which woeful scene I saw, And bore great part in each event I tell. But O! in telling, what Dolopian churl, Or Myrmidon, or gory follower Of grim Ulysses could the tears restrain? ’T is evening; lo! the dews of night begin To fall from heaven, and yonder sinking stars Invite to slumber. But if thy heart yearn To hear in brief of all our evil days And Troy’s last throes, although the memory Makes my soul shudder and recoil in pain, I will essay it. Wearied of the war, And by ill-fortune crushed, year after year, The kings of Greece, by Pallas’ skill divine, Build a huge horse, a thing of mountain size, With timbered ribs of fir. They falsely say It has been vowed to Heaven for safe return, And spread this lie abroad. Then they conceal Choice bands of warriors in the deep, dark side, And fill the caverns of that monstrous womb With arms and soldiery. In sight of Troy Lies Tenedos, an island widely famed And opulent, ere Priam’s kingdom fell, But a poor haven now, with anchorage Not half secure; ’t was thitherward they sailed, And lurked unseen by that abandoned shore. We deemed them launched away and sailing far, Bound homeward for Mycenæ. Teucria then Threw off her grief inveterate; all her gates Swung wide; exultant went we forth, and saw The Dorian camp untenanted, the siege Abandoned, and the shore without a keel. “Here!” cried we, “the Dolopian pitched; the host “Of fierce Achilles here; here lay the fleet; “And here the battling lines to conflict ran.” Others, all wonder, scan the gift of doom By virgin Pallas given, and view with awe That horse which loomed so large. Thymœtes then Bade lead it through the gates, and set on high Within our citadel,—or traitor he, Or tool of fate in Troy’s predestined fall. But Capys, as did all of wiser heart, Bade hurl into the sea the false Greek gift, Or underneath it thrust a kindling flame, Or pierce the hollow ambush of its womb With probing spear. Yet did the multitude Veer round from vice to voice and doubt of all. Then from the citadel, conspicuous, Laocoön, with all his following choir, Hurried indignant down; and from afar Thus hailed the people: “O unhappy men! “What madness is this? Who deems our foemen fled? “Think ye the gifts of Greece can lack for guile? “Have ye not known Ulysses? The Achæan “Hides, caged in yonder beams; or this is reared “For engin’ry on our proud battlements, “To spy upon our roof-tops, or descend “In ruin on the city. ’T is a snare. “Trust not this horse, O Troy, whate’er it bode! “I fear the Greeks, though gift on gift they bear.”

So saying, he whirled with ponderous javelin A sturdy stroke straight at the rounded side Of the great, jointed beast. A tremor struck Its towering form, and through the cavernous womb Rolled loud, reverberate rumbling, deep and long. If heaven’s decree, if our own wills, that hour, Had not been fixed on woe, his spear had brought A bloody slaughter on our ambushed foe, And Troy were standing on the earth this day! O Priam’s towers, ye were unfallen still!

But, lo! with hands fast bound behind, a youth By clamorous Dardan shepherds haled along, Was brought before our King,—to this sole end A self-surrendered captive, that he might, Although a nameless stranger, cunningly Deliver to the Greek the gates of Troy. His firm-set mind flinched not from either goal,— Success in crime, or on swift death to fall. The thronging Trojan youth made haste his way From every side, all eager to see close Their captive’s face, and flout with emulous scorn. Hear now what Greek deception is, and learn From one dark wickedness the whole. For he, A mark for every eye, defenceless, dazed, Stood staring at our Phrygian hosts, and cried: “Woe worth the day! What ocean or what shore “Will have me now? What desperate path remains “For miserable me? Now have I lost “All foothold with the Greeks, and o’er my head “Troy’s furious sons call bloody vengeance down.” Such groans and anguish turned all rage away And stayed our lifted hands. We bade him tell His birth, his errand, and from whence might be Such hope of mercy for a foe in chains. Then fearing us no more, this speech he dared: “O King! I will confess, whate’er befall, “The whole unvarnished truth. I will not hide “My Grecian birth. Yea, thus will I begin. “For Fortune has brought wretched Sinon low; “But never shall her cruelty impair “His honor and his truth. Perchance the name “Of Palamedes, Belus’ glorious son, “Has come by rumor to your listening ears; “Whom by false witness and conspiracy, “Because his counsel was not for this war, “The Greeks condemned, though guiltless, to his death, “And now make much lament for him they slew. “I, his companion, of his kith and kin, “Sent hither by my humble sire’s command, “Followed his arms and fortunes from my youth. “Long as his throne endured, and while he throve “In conclave with his kingly peers, we twain “Some name and lustre bore; but afterward, “Because that cheat Ulysses envied him “(Ye know the deed), he from this world withdrew, “And I in gloom and tribulation sore “Lived miserably on, lamenting loud “My lost friend’s blameless fall. A fool was I “That kept not these lips closed; but I had vowed “That if a conqueror home to Greece I came, “I would avenge. Such words moved wrath, and were “The first shock of my ruin; from that hour, “Ulysses whispered slander and alarm; “Breathed doubt and malice into all men’s ears, “And darkly plotted how to strike his blow. “Nor rest had he, till Calchas, as his tool— “But why unfold this useless, cruel story? “Why make delay? Ye count all sons of Greece “Arrayed as one; and to have heard thus far “Suffices you. Take now your ripe revenge! “Ulysses smiles and Atreus’ royal sons “With liberal price your deed of blood repay.”

We ply him with passionate appeal And question all his cause: of guilt so dire Or such Greek guile we harbored not the thought. So on he prates, with well-feigned grief and fear, And from his lying heart thus told his tale: “Full oft the Greeks had fain achieved their flight, “And raised the Trojan siege, and sailed away “War-wearied quite. O, would it had been so! “Full oft the wintry tumult of the seas “Did wall them round, and many a swollen storm “Their embarcation stayed. But chiefly when, “All fitly built of beams of maple fair, “This horse stood forth,—what thunders filled the skies! “With anxious fears we sent Eurypylus “To ask Apollo’s word; and from the shrine “He brings the sorrowful commandment home: “‘By flowing blood and by a virgin slain “‘The wild winds were appeased, when first ye came, “‘Ye sons of Greece, to Ilium’s distant shore. “‘Through blood ye must return. Let some Greek life “‘Your expiration be.’ The popular ear “The saying caught, all spirits were dimmed o’er; “Cold doubt and horror through each bosom ran, “Asking what fate would do, and on what wretch “Apollo’s choice would all. Ulysses, then, “Amid the people’s tumult and acclaim, “Thrust Calchas forth, some prophecy to tell “To all the throng: he asked him o’er and o’er “What Heaven desired. Already not a few “Foretold the murderous plot, and silently “Watched the dark doom upon my life impend. “Twice five long days the seer his lips did seal, “And hid himself, refusing to bring forth “His word of guile, and name what wretch should die. “At last, reluctant, and all loudly urged “By false Ulysses, he fulfils their plot, “And, lifting up his voice oracular, “Points out myself the victim to be slain. “Nor did one voice oppose. The mortal stroke “Horribly hanging o’er each coward head “Was changed to one man’s ruin, and their hearts “Endured it well. Soon rose th’ accursed morn; “The bloody ritual was ready; salt “Was sprinkled on the sacred loaf; my brows “Were bound with fillets for the offering. “But I escaped that death—yes! I deny not! “I cast my fetters off, and darkling lay “Concealed all night in lake-side sedge and mire, “Awaiting their departure, if perchance “They should in truth set sail. But nevermore “Shall my dear, native country greet these eyes. “No more my father or my tender babes “Shall I behold. Nay, haply their own lives “Are forfeit, when my foemen take revenge “For my escape, and slay those helpless ones, “In expiation of my guilty deed. “O, by yon powers in heaven which witness truth, “By aught in this dark world remaining now “Of spotless human faith and innocence, “I do implore thee look with pitying eye “On these long sufferings my heart hath borne. “O, pity! I deserve not what I bear.”

Pity and pardon to his tears we gave, And spared his life. King Priam bade unbind The fettered hands and loose those heavy chains That pressed him sore; then with benignant mien Addressed him thus: “Whate’er thy place or name, “Forget the people thou hast lost, and be “Henceforth our countryman. But tell me true! “What means the monstrous fabric of this horse? “Who made it? Why? What offering to Heaven, “On engin’ry of conquest may it be?” He spake; and in reply, with skilful guile, Greek that he was! the other lifted up His hands, now freed and chainless, to the skies: “O ever-burning and inviolate fires, “Witness my word! O altars and sharp steel, “Whose curse I fled, O fillets of the gods, “Which bound a victim’s helpless forehead, hear! “’T is lawful now to break the oath that gave “My troth to Greece. To execrate her kings “Is now my solemn duty. Their whole plot “I publish to the world. No fatherland “And no allegiance binds me any more. “O Troy, whom I have saved, I bid thee keep “The pledge of safety by good Priam given, “For my true tale shall my rich ransom be.

“The Greeks’ one hope, since first they opened war, “Was Pallas’ grace and power. But from the day “When Diomed, bold scorner of the gods, “And false Ulysses, author of all guile, “Rose up and violently bore away “Palladium, her holy shrine, hewed down “The sentinels of her acropolis, “And with polluted, gory hands dared touch “The goddess’ virgin fillets, white and pure,— “Thenceforth, I say, the courage of the Greeks “Ebbed utterly away; their strength was lost, “And favoring Pallas all her grace withdrew. “No dubious sign she gave. Scarce had they set “Her statue in our own camp, when glittering flame “Flashed from the staring eyes; from all its limbs “Salt sweat ran forth; three times (O wondrous tale!) “It gave a sudden skyward leap, and made “Prodigious trembling of her lance and shield. “The prophet Calchas bade us straightway take “Swift flight across the sea; for fate had willed “The Trojan citadel should never fall “By Grecian arm, till once more they obtain “New oracles at Argos, and restore “That god the round ships hurried o’er the sea. “Now in Mycenæ, whither they are fled, “New help of heaven they find, and forge anew “The means of war. Back hither o’er the waves “They suddenly will come. So Calchas gave “The meaning of the god. Warned thus, they reared “In place of Pallas’ desecrated shrine “Yon image of the horse, to expiate “The woeful sacrilege. Calchas ordained “That they should build a thing of monstrous size “Of jointed beams, and rear it heavenward, “So might it never pass your gates, nor come “Inside your walls, nor anywise restore “Unto the Trojans their lost help divine. “For had your hands Minerva’s gift profaned, “A ruin horrible—O, may the gods “Bring it on Calchas rather!—would have come “On Priam’s throne and all the Phrygian power. “But if your hands should lift the holy thing “To your own citadel, then Asia’s host “Would hurl aggression upon Pelops’ land, “And all that curse on our own nation fall.”

Thus Sinon’s guile and practised perjury Our doubt dispelled. His stratagems and tears Wrought victory where neither Tydeus’ son, Nor mountain-bred Achilles could prevail, Nor ten years’ war, nor fleets a thousand strong. But now a vaster spectacle of fear Burst over us, to vex our startled souls. Laocoön, that day by cast of lot Priest unto Neptune, was in act to slay A huge bull at the god’s appointed fane. Lo! o’er the tranquil deep from Tenedos Appeared a pair (I shudder as I tell) Of vastly coiling serpents, side by side, Stretching along the waves, and to the shore Taking swift course; their necks were lifted high, Their gory dragon-crests o’ertopped the waves; All else, half seen, trailed low along the sea; While with loud cleavage of the foaming brine Their monstrous backs wound forward fold on fold. Soon they made land; the furious bright eyes Glowed with ensanguined fire; their quivering tongues Lapped hungrily the hissing, gruesome jaws. All terror-pale we fled. Unswerving then The monsters to Laocoön made way. First round the tender limbs of his two sons Each dragon coiled, and on the shrinking flesh Fixed fast and fled. Then seized they on the sire, Who flew to aid, a javelin in his hand, Embracing close in bondage serpentine Twice round the waist; and twice in scaly grasp Around his neck, and o’er him grimly peered With lifted head and crest; he, all the while, His holy fillet fouled with venomous blood, Tore at his fetters with a desperate hand, And lifted up such agonizing voice, As when a bull, death-wounded, seeks to flee The sacrificial altar, and thrusts back From his doomed head the ill-aimed, glancing blade. Then swiftly writhed the dragon-pair away Unto the templed height, and in the shrine Of cruel Pallas sure asylum found Beneath the goddess’ feet and orbèd shield.

Such trembling horror as we ne’er had known Seized now on every heart. “Of his vast guilt “Laocoön,” they say, “receives reward; “For he with most abominable spear “Did strike and violate that blessèd wood. “Yon statue to the temple! Ask the grace “Of glorious Pallas!” So the people cried In general acclaim. Ourselves did make A breach within our walls and opened wide The ramparts of our city. One and all Were girded for the task. Smooth-gliding wheels Were ’neath its feet; great ropes stretched round its neck, Till o’er our walls the fatal engine climbed, Pregnant with men-at-arms. On every side Fair youths and maidens made a festal song. And hauled the ropes with merry heart and gay. So on and up it rolled, a tower of doom, And in proud menace through our Forum moved. O Ilium, my country, where abode The gods of all my sires! O glorious walls Of Dardan’s sons! before your gates it passed, Four times it stopped and dreadful clash of arms Four times from its vast concave loudly rang. Yet frantic we pressed on, our hearts all blind, And in the consecrated citadel Set up the hateful thing. Cassandra then From heaven-instructed heart our doom foretold; But doomed to unbelief were Ilium’s sons. Our hapless nation on its dying day Flung free o’er streets and shrines the votive flowers.

The skies rolled on; and o’er the ocean fell The veil of night, till utmost earth and heaven And all their Myrmidonian stratagems Were mantled darkly o’er. In silent sleep The Trojan city lay; dull slumber chained Its weary life. But now the Greek array Of ordered ships moved on from Tenedos, Their only light the silent, favoring moon, On to the well-known strand. The King displayed A torch from his own ship, and Sinon then, Whom wrathful Heaven defended in that hour, Let the imprisoned band of Greeks go free From that huge womb of wood; the open horse Restored them to the light; and joyfully Emerging from the darkness, one by one, Princely Thessander, Sthenelus, and dire Ulysses glided down the swinging cord. Closely upon them Neoptolemus, The son of Peleus, came, and Acamas, King Menelaus, Thoas and Machaon, And last, Epeüs, who the fabric wrought. Upon the town they fell, for deep in sleep And drowsed with wine it lay; the sentinels They slaughtered, and through gates now opened wide Let in their fellows, and arrayed for war Th’ auxiliar legions of the dark design.

That hour it was when heaven’s first gift of sleep On weary hearts of men most sweetly steals. O, then my slumbering senses seemed to see Hector, with woeful face and streaming eyes; I seemed to see him from the chariot trailing. Foul with dark dust and gore, his swollen feet Pierced with a cruel thong. Ah me! what change From glorious Hector when he homeward bore The spoils of fierce Achilles; or hurled far That shower of torches on the ships of Greece! Unkempt his beard, his tresses thick with blood, And all those wounds in sight which he did take Defending Troy. Then, weeping as I spoke, I seemed on that heroic shape to call With mournful utterance: “O star of Troy! “O surest hope and stay of all her sons! “Why tarriest thou so long? What region sends “The long-expected Hector home once more? “These weary eyes that look on thee have seen “Hosts of thy kindred die, and fateful change “Upon thy people and thy city fall. “O, say what dire occasion has defiled “Thy tranquil brows? What mean those bleeding wounds?”

Silent he stood, nor anywise would stay My vain lament; but groaned, and answered thus: “Haste, goddess-born, and out of yonder flames “Achieve thy flight. Our foes have scaled the wall; “Exalted Troy is falling. Fatherland “And Priam ask no more. If human arm “Could profit Troy, my own had kept her free. “Her Lares and her people to thy hands “Troy here commends. Companions let them be “Of all thy fortunes. Let them share thy quest “Of that wide realm, which, after wandering far, “Thou shalt achieve, at last, beyond the sea.” He spoke: and from our holy hearth brought forth The solemn fillet, the ancestral shrines, And Vesta’s ever-bright, inviolate fire.

Now shrieks and loud confusion swept the town; And though my father’s dwelling stood apart Embowered deep in trees, th’ increasing din Drew nearer, and the battle-thunder swelled. I woke on sudden, and up-starting scaled The roof, the tower, then stood with listening ear: ’T was like an harvest burning, when wild winds Uprouse the flames; ’t was like a mountain stream That bursts in flood and ruinously whelms Sweet fields and farms and all the ploughman’s toil Whirling whole groves along; while dumb with fear, From some far cliff the shepherd hears the sound. Now their Greek plot was plain, the stratagem At last laid bare. Deiphobus’ great house Sank vanquished in the fire. Ucalegon’s Hard by was blazing, while the waters wide Around Sigeum gave an answering glow. Shrill trumpets rang; loud shouting voices roared; Wildly I armed me (when the battle calls, How dimly reason shines!); I burned to join The rally of my peers, and to the heights Defensive gather. Frenzy and vast rage Seized on my soul. I only sought what way With sword in hand some noble death to die.

When Panthus met me, who had scarce escaped The Grecian spears,—Panthus of Othrys’ line, Apollo’s priest within our citadel; His holy emblems, his defeated gods, And his small grandson in his arms he bore, While toward the gates with wild, swift steps he flew. “How fares the kingdom, Panthus? What strong place “Is still our own?” But scarcely could I ask When thus, with many a groan, he made reply:— “Dardania’s death and doom are come to-day, “Implacable. There is no Ilium now; “Our Trojan name is gone, the Teucrian throne “Quite fallen. For the wrathful power of Jove “Has given to Argos all our boast and pride. “The Greek is lord of all yon blazing towers. “Yon horse uplifted on our city’s heart “Disgorges men-at-arms. False Sinon now, “With scorn exultant, heaps up flame on flame. “Others throw wide the gates. The whole vast horde “That out of proud Mycenæ hither sailed “Is at us. With confronting spears they throng “Each narrow passage. Every steel-bright blade “Is flashing naked, making haste for blood. “Our sentries helpless meet the invading shock “And give back blind and unavailing war.”

By Panthus’ word and by some god impelled, I flew to battle, where the flames leaped high, Where grim Bellona called, and all the air Resounded high as heaven with shouts of war. Rhipeus and Epytus of doughty arm Were at my side, Dymas and Hypanis, Seen by a pale moon, join our little band; And young Corœbus, Mygdon’s princely son, Who was in Troy that hour because he loved Cassandra madly, and had made a league As Priam’s kinsman with our Phrygian arms: Ill-starred, to heed not what the virgin raved! When these I saw close-gathered for the fight, I thus addressed them: “Warriors, vainly brave, “If ye indeed desire to follow one “Who dares the uttermost brave men may do, “Our evil plight ye see: the gods are fled “From every altar and protecting fire, “Which were the kingdom’s stay. Ye offer aid “Unto your country’s ashes. Let us fight “Unto the death! To arms, my men, to arms! “The single hope and stay of desperate men “Is their despair.” Thus did I rouse their souls. Then like the ravening wolves, some night of cloud, When cruel hunger in an empty maw Drives them forth furious, and their whelps behind Wait famine-throated; so through foemen’s steel We flew to surest death, and kept our way Straight through the midmost town. The wings of night Brooded above us in vast vault of shade. But who the bloodshed of that night can tell? What tongue its deaths shall number, or what eyes Find meed of tears to equal all its woe? The ancient City fell, whose throne had stood Age after age. Along her streets were strewn The unresisting dead; at household shrines And by the temples of the gods they lay. Yet not alone was Teucrian blood required: Oft out of vanquished hearts fresh valor flamed, And the Greek victor fell. Anguish and woe Were everywhere; pale terrors ranged abroad, And multitudinous death met every eye.

Androgeos, followed by a thronging band Of Greeks, first met us on our desperate way; But heedless, and confounding friend with foe, Thus, all unchallenged, hailed us as his own: “Haste, heroes! Are ye laggards at this hour? “Others bear off captives and the spoil “Of burning Troy. Just from the galleys ye?” He spoke; but straightway, when no safe reply Returned, he knew himself entrapped, and fallen Into a foeman’s snare; struck dumb was he And stopped both word and motion; as one steps, When blindly treading a thick path of thorns, Upon a snake, and sick with fear would flee That lifted wrath and swollen gorge of green: So trembling did Androgeos backward fall. At them we flew and closed them round with war; And since they could not know the ground, and fear Had whelmed them quite, we swiftly laid them low. Thus Fortune on our first achievement smiled; And, flushed with victory, Corœbus cried: “Come, friends, and follow Fortune’s finger, where “She beckons us what path deliverance lies. “Change we our shields, and these Greek emblems wear. “’Twixt guile and valor who will nicely weigh “When foes are met? These dead shall find us arms.” With this, he dons Androgeos’ crested helm And beauteous, blazoned shield; and to his side Girds on a Grecian blade. Young Rhipeus next, With Dymas and the other soldiery, Repeat the deed, exulting, and array Their valor in fresh trophies from the slain. Now intermingled with our foes we moved, And alien emblems wore; the long, black night Brought many a grapple, and a host of Greeks Down to the dark we hurled. Some fled away, Seeking their safe ships and the friendly shore. Some cowards foul went clambering back again To that vast horse and hid them in its maw. But woe is me! If gods their help withhold, ’T is impious to be brave. That very hour The fair Cassandra passed us, bound in chains, King Priam’s virgin daughter, from the shrine And altars of Minerva; her loose hair Had lost its fillet; her impassioned eyes Were lifted in vain prayer,—her eyes alone! For chains of steel her frail, soft hands confined. Corœbus’ eyes this horror not endured, And, sorrow-crazed, he plunged him headlong in The midmost fray, self-offered to be slain, While in close mass our troop behind him poured. But, at this point, the overwhelming spears Of our own kinsmen rained resistless down From a high temple-tower; and carnage wild Ensued, because of the Greek arms we bore And our false crests. The howling Grecian band, Crazed by Cassandra’s rescue, charged at us From every side; Ajax of savage soul, The sons of Atreus, and that whole wild horde Achilles from Dolopian deserts drew. ’T was like the bursting storm, when gales contend, West wind and South, and jocund wind of morn Upon his orient steeds—while forests roar, And foam-flecked Nereus with fierce trident stirs The dark deep of the sea. All who did hide In shadows of the night, by our assault Surprised, and driven in tumultuous flight, Now start to view. Full well they now can see Our shields and borrowed arms, and clearly note Our speech of alien sound; their multitude O’erwhelms us utterly. Corœbus first At mailed Minerva’s altar prostrate lay, Pierced by Peneleus’ blade; then Rhipeus fell; We deemed him of all Trojans the most just, Most scrupulously righteous; but the gods Gave judgment otherwise. There Dymas died, And Hypanis, by their compatriots slain; Nor thee, O Panthus, in that mortal hour, Could thy clean hands or Phœbus’ priesthood save. O ashes of my country! funeral pyre Of all my kin! bear witness that my breast Shrank not from any sword the Grecian drew, And that my deeds the night my country died Deserved a warrior’s death, had Fate ordained.

But soon our ranks were broken; at my side Stayed Iphitus and Pelias; one with age Was long since wearied, and the other bore The burden of Ulysses’ crippling wound. Straightway the roar and tumult summoned us To Priam’s palace, where a battle raged As if to save this no conflict else were known, And all Troy’s dying brave were mustered there. There we beheld the war-god unconfined; The Greek besiegers to the roof-tops fled; Or, with shields tortoise-back, the gates assailed. Ladders were on the walls; and round by round, Up the huge bulwark as they fight their way, The shielded left-hand thwarts the falling spears, The right to every vantage closely clings. The Trojans hurl whole towers and roof-tops down Upon the mounting foe; for well they see That the last hour is come, and with what arms The dying must resist. Rich gilded beams, With many a beauteous blazon of old time, Go crashing down. Men armed with naked swords Defend the inner doors in close array. Thus were our hearts inflamed to stand and strike For the king’s house, and to his body-guard Bring succor, and renew their vanquished powers. A certain gate I knew, a secret way, Which gave free passage between Priam’s halls, And exit rearward; hither, in the days Before our fall, the lone Andromache Was wont with young Astyanax to pass In quest of Priam and her husband’s kin. This way to climb the palace roof I flew, Where, desperate, the Trojans with vain skill Hurled forth repellent arms. A tower was there, Reared skyward from the roof-top, giving view Of Troy’s wide walls and full reconnaissance Of all Achæa’s fleets and tented field; This, with strong steel, our gathered strength assailed, And as the loosened courses offered us Great threatening fissures, we uprooted it From its aerial throne and thrust it down: It fell with instantaneous crash of thunder Along the Danaan host in ruin wide. But fresh ranks soon arrive; thick showers of stone Rain down, with every missile rage can find.

Now at the threshold of the outer court Pyrrhus triumphant stood, with glittering arms And helm of burnished brass. He glittered like Some swollen viper, fed on poison-leaves, Whom chilling winter shelters underground, Till, fresh and strong, he sheds his annual scales And, crawling forth rejuvenate, uncoils His slimy length; his lifted gorge insults The sunbeam with three-forked and quivering tongue. Huge Periphas was there; Automedon, Who drove Achilles’ steeds, and bore his arms. Then Scyros’ island-warriors assault The palaces, and hurl reiterate fire At wall and tower. Pyrrhus led the van; Seizing an axe he clove the ponderous doors And rent the hinges from their posts of bronze; He cut the beams, and through the solid mass Burrowed his way, till like a window huge The breach yawned wide, and opened to his gaze A vista of long courts and corridors, The hearth and home of many an ancient king, And Priam’s own; upon its sacred bourne The sentry, all in arms, kept watch and ward. Confusion, groans, and piteous turmoil Were in that dwelling; women shrieked and wailed From many a dark retreat, and their loud cry Rang to the golden stars. Through those vast halls The panic-stricken mothers wildly roved, And clung with frantic kisses and embrace Unto the columns cold. Fierce as his sire, Pyrrhus moves on; nor bar nor sentinel May stop his way; down tumbles the great door Beneath the battering beam, and with it fall Hinges and framework violently torn. Force bursts all bars; th’ assailing Greeks break in, Do butchery, and with men-at-arms possess What place they will. Scarce with an equal rage A foaming river, when its dykes are down, O’erwhelms its mounded shores, and through the plain Rolls mountain-high, while from the ravaged farms Its fierce flood sweeps along both flock and fold.

My own eyes looked on Neoptolemus Frenzied with slaughter, and both Atreus’ sons Upon the threshold frowning; I beheld Her hundred daughters with old Hecuba; And Priam, whose own bleeding wounds defiled The altars where himself had blessed the fires; There fifty nuptial beds gave promise proud Of princely heirs; but all their brightness now, Of broidered cunning and barbaric gold, Lay strewn and trampled on. The Danaan foe Stood victor, where the raging flame had failed. But would ye haply know what stroke of doom On Priam fell? Now when his anguish saw His kingdom lost and fallen, his abode Shattered, and in his very hearth and home Th’ exulting foe, the aged King did bind His rusted armor to his trembling thews,— All vainly,—and a useless blade of steel He girded on; then charged, resolved to die Encircled by the foe. Within his walls There stood, beneath the wide and open sky, A lofty altar; an old laurel-tree Leaned o’er it, and enclasped in holy shade The statues of the tutelary powers. Here Hecuba and all the princesses Took refuge vain within the place of prayer. Like panic-stricken doves in some dark storm, Close-gathering they sate, and in despair Embraced their graven gods. But when the Queen Saw Priam with his youthful harness on, “What frenzy, O my wretched lord,” she cried, “Arrayed thee in such arms? O, whither now? “Not such defences, nor such arm as thine, “The time requires, though thy companion were “Our Hector’s self. O, yield thee, I implore! “This altar now shall save us one and all, “Or we must die together.” With these words She drew him to her side, and near the shrine Made for her aged spouse a place to cling.

But, lo! just ’scaped of Pyrrhus’ murderous hand, Polites, one of Priam’s sons, fled fast Along the corridors, through thronging foes And a thick rain of spears. Wildly he gazed Across the desolate halls, wounded to death. Fierce Pyrrhus followed after, pressing hard With mortal stroke, and now his hand and spear Were close upon:—when the lost youth leaped forth Into his father’s sight, and prostrate there Lay dying, while his life-blood ebbed away. Then Priam, though on all sides death was nigh, Quit not the strife, nor from loud wrath refrained: “Thy crime and impious outrage, may the gods “(If Heaven to mortals render debt and due) “Justly reward and worthy honors pay! “My own son’s murder thou hast made me see, “Blood and pollution impiously throwing “Upon a father’s head. Not such was he, “Not such, Achilles, thy pretended sire, “When Priam was his foe. With flush of shame “He nobly listened to a suppliant’s plea “In honor made. He rendered to the tomb “My Hector’s body pale, and me did send “Back to my throne a king.” With this proud word The aged warrior hurled with nerveless arm His ineffectual spear, which hoarsely rang Rebounding on the brazen shield, and hung Piercing the midmost boss,—but all in vain. Then Pyrrhus: “Take these tidings, and convey “A message to my father, Peleus’ son! “Tell him my naughty deeds! Be sure and say “How Neoptolemus hath shamed his sires. “Now die!” With this, he trailed before the shrines The trembling King, whose feet slipped in the stream Of his son’s blood. Then Pyrrhus’ left hand clutched The tresses old and gray; a glittering sword His right hand lifted high, and buried it Far as the hilt in that defenceless heart. So Priam’s story ceased. Such final doom Fell on him, while his dying eyes surveyed Troy burning, and her altars overthrown, Though once of many an orient land and tribe The boasted lord. In huge dismemberment His severed trunk lies tombless on the shore, The head from shoulder torn, the corpse unknown.

Then first wild horror on my spirit fell And dazed me utterly. A vision rose Of my own cherished father, as I saw The King, his aged peer, sore wounded lying In mortal agony; a vision too Of lost Creüsa at my ravaged hearth, And young Iulus’ peril. Then my eyes Looked round me seeking aid. But all were fled, War-wearied and undone; some earthward leaped From battlement or tower; some in despair Yielded their suffering bodies to the flame. I stood there sole surviving; when, behold, To Vesta’s altar clinging in dumb fear, Hiding and crouching in the hallowed shade, Tyndarus’ daughter!—’t was the burning town Lighted full well my roving steps and eyes. In fear was she both of some Trojan’s rage For Troy o’erthrown, and of some Greek revenge, Or her wronged husband’s long indignant ire. So hid she at that shrine her hateful brow, Being of Greece and Troy, full well she knew, The common curse. Then in my bosom rose A blaze of wrath; methought I should avenge My dying country, and with horrid deed Pay crime for crime. “Shall she return unscathed “To Sparta, to Mycenæ’s golden pride, “And have a royal triumph? Shall her eyes “Her sire and sons, her hearth and husband see, “While Phrygian captives follow in her train? “Is Priam murdered? Have the flames swept o’er “My native Troy? and doth our Dardan strand “Sweat o’er and o’er with sanguinary dew? “O, not thus unavenged! For though there be “No glory if I smite a woman’s crime, “Nor conqueror’s fame for such a victory won, “Yet if I blot this monster out, and wring “Full punishment from guilt, the time to come “Will praise me, and sweet pleasure it will be “To glut my soul with vengeance and appease “The ashes of my kindred.” So I raved, And to such frenzied purpose gave my soul. Then with clear vision (never had I seen Her presence so unclouded) I beheld, In golden beams that pierced the midnight gloom, My gracious mother, visibly divine, And with that mien of majesty she wears When seen in heaven; she stayed me with her hand, And from her lips of rose this counsel gave: “O son, what sorrow stirs thy boundless rage? “What madness this? Or whither vanisheth “Thy love of me? Wilt thou not seek to know “Where bides Anchises, thy abandoned sire, “Now weak with age? or if Creüsa lives “And young Ascanius, who are ringed about “With ranks of Grecian foes, and long ere this— “Save that my love can shield them and defend— “Had fallen on flame or fed some hungry sword? “Not Helen’s hated beauty works thee woe; “Nor Paris, oft-accused. The cruelty “Of gods, of gods unaided, overwhelms “Thy country’s power, and from its lofty height “Casts Ilium down. Behold, I take away “The barrier-cloud that dims thy mortal eye, “With murk and mist o’er-veiling. Fear not thou “To heed thy mother’s word, nor let thy heart “Refuse obedience to her counsel given. “’Mid yonder trembling ruins, where thou see’st “Stone torn from stone, with dust and smoke uprolling, “’T is Neptune strikes the wall; his trident vast “Makes her foundation tremble, and unseats “The city from her throne. Fierce Juno leads “Resistless onset at the Scæan gate, “And summons from the ships the league of powers, “Wearing her wrathful sword. On yonder height “Behold Tritonia in the citadel “Clothed with the lightning and her Gorgon-shield! “Unto the Greeks great Jove himself renews “Their courage and their power; ’t is he thrusts on “The gods themselves against the Trojan arms. “Fly, O my son! The war’s wild work give o’er! “I will be always nigh and set thee safe “Upon thy father’s threshold.” Having said, She fled upon the viewless night away.

Then loomed o’er Troy the apparition vast Of her dread foes divine; I seemed to see All Ilium sink in fire, and sacred Troy, Of Neptune’s building, utterly o’erthrown. So some huge ash-tree on the mountain’s brow (When rival woodmen, heaving stroke on stroke Of two-edged axes, haste to cast her down) Sways ominously her trembling, leafy top, And drops her smitten head; till by her wounds Vanquished at last, she makes her dying groan, And falls in loud wreck from the cliffs uptorn.

I left the citadel; and, led by Heaven, Threaded the maze of deadly foes and fires, Through spears that glanced aside and flames that fell. Soon came I to my father’s ancient seat, Our home and heritage. But lo! my sire (Whom first of all I sought, and first would bear To safe asylum in the distant hills) Vowed he could never, after fallen Troy, Live longer on, or bear an exile’s woe. “O you,” he cried, “whose blood not yet betrays “The cruel taint of time, whose powers be still “Unpropped and undecayed, go, take your flight. “If heavenly wrath had willed my life to spare, “This dwelling had been safe. It is too much “That I have watched one wreck, and for too long “Outlived my vanquished country. Thus, O, thus! “Compose these limbs for death, and say farewell. “My own hand will procure it; or my foe “Will strip me bare. It is an easy loss “To have no grave. For many a year gone by, “Accursed of Heaven, I tarry in this world “A useless burden, since that fatal hour “When Jove, of gods the Sire and men the King, “His lightnings o’er me breathed and blasting fire.”

Such fixed resolve he uttered o’er and o’er And would not yield, though with my tears did join My spouse Creüsa, fair Ascanius, And our whole house, imploring the gray sire Not with himself to ruin all, nor add Yet heavier burdens to our crushing doom. He still cried, “No!” and clung to where he sate And to the same dread purpose. I once more Back to the fight would speed. For death alone I made my wretched prayer. What space was left For wisdom now? What chance or hope was given? “Didst thou, dear father, dream that I could fly “Sundered from thee? Did such an infamy “Fall from a father’s lips? If Heaven’s decree “Will of this mighty nation not let live “A single soul, if thine own purpose be “To cast thyself and thy posterity “Into thy country’s grave, behold, the door “Is open to thy death! Lo, Pyrrhus comes “Red-handed from King Priam! He has slain “A son before his father’s eyes, and spilt “A father’s blood upon his own hearthstone. “Was it for this, O heavenly mother mine, “That thou hast brought me safe through sword and fire? “That I might see these altars desecrate “By their worst foes? that I might look upon “My sire, my wife, and sweet Ascanius “Dead at my feet in one another’s blood? “To arms, my men, to arms! The hour of death “Now beckons to the vanquished. Let me go “Whither the Greeks are gathered; let me stand “Where oft revives the flagging stroke of war: “Not all of us unavenged this day!”

I clasped my sword-belt round me once again, Fitted my left arm to my shield, and turned To fly the house; but at the threshold clung Creüsa to my knees, and lifted up Iulus to his father’s arms. “If thou “Wouldst rush on death,” she cried, “O, suffer us “To share thy perils with thee to the end. “But if this day’s work bid thee trust a sword, “Defend thy hearthstone first. Who else shall guard “Thy babe Iulus, or thy reverend sire? “Or me, thy wife that was—what help have I?”

So rang the roof-top with her piteous cries: But lo! a portent wonderful to see On sudden rose; for while his parents’ grief Held the boy close in arm and full in view, There seemed upon Iulus’ head to glow A flickering peak of fire; the tongue of flame Innocuous o’er his clustering tresses played, And hovered round his brows. We, horror-struck, Grasped at his burning hair, and sprinkled him, To quench that holy and auspicious fire. Then sire Anchises with exultant eyes Looked heavenward, and lifted to the stars His voice and outstretched hands. “Almighty Jove, “If aught of prayer may move thee, let thy grace “Now visit us! O, hear this holy vow! “And if for service at thine altars done, “We aught can claim, O Father, lend us aid, “And ratify the omen thou hast given!”

Scarce ceased his aged voice, when suddenly From leftward, with a deafening thunder-peal, Cleaving the blackness of the vaulted sky, A meteor-star in trailing splendor ran, Exceeding bright. We watched it glide sublime O’er tower and town, until its radiant beam In forest-mantled Ida died away; But left a furrow on its track in air, A glittering, long line, while far and wide The sulphurous fume and exhalation flowed.

My father strove not now; but lifted him In prayer to all the gods, in holy awe Of that auspicious star, and thus exclaimed: “Tarry no moment more! Behold, I come! “Whithersoe’er ye lead, my steps obey. “Gods of my fathers, O, preserve our name! “Preserve my son, and his! This augury “Is yours; and Troy on your sole strength relies. “I yield, dear son; I journey at thy side.”

He spoke; and higher o’er the blazing walls Leaped the loud fire, while ever nearer drew The rolling surges of tumultuous flame. “Haste, father, on these bending shoulders climb! “This back is ready, and the burden light; “One peril smites us both, whate’er befall; “One rescue both shall find. Close at my side “Let young Iulus run, while, not too nigh, “My wife Creüsa heeds what way we go. “Ye servants of our house, give ear, I pray, “To my command. Outside the city’s gates “Lies a low mound and long since ruined fane “To Ceres vowed; a cypress’ ancient shade “O’erhangs it, which our fathers’ pious care “Protected year by year; by various paths “Be that our meeting-place. “But in thy hands “Bring, sire, our household gods, and sanctities: “For me to touch, who come this very hour “From battle and the fresh blood of the slain, “Were but abomination, till what time “In living waters I shall make me clean.”

So saying, I bowed my neck and shoulders broad, O’erspread me with a lion’s tawny skin, And lifted up my load. Close at my side Little Iulus twined his hand in mine And followed, with unequal step, his sire. My wife at distance came. We hastened on, Creeping through shadows; I, who once had viewed Undaunted every instrument of war And all the gathered Greeks in grim array, Now shook at every gust, and heard all sounds With fevered trepidation, fearing both For him I bore and him who clasped my hand.

Now near the gates I drew, and deemed our flight Safely at end, when suddenly I heard The sounding tread of many warriors That seemed hard-by, while through the murky night My father peered, and shouted, “O my son, “Away, away! for surely all our foes “Are here upon us, and my eyes behold “The glance of glittering shields and flash of arms.”

O, then some evil-working, nameless god Clouded my senses quite: for while I sped Along our pathless way, and left behind All paths and regions known—O wretched me!— Creüsa on some dark disaster fell; She stopped, or wandered, or sank down undone,— I never knew what way,—and nevermore I looked on her alive. Yet knew I not My loss, nor backward turned a look or thought, Till by that hallowed hill to Ceres vowed We gathered all,—and she alone came not, While husband, friends, and son made search in vain. What god, what man, did not my grief accuse In frenzied word? In all the ruined land What worse woe had I seen? Entrusting then My sire, my son, and all the Teucrian gods To the deep shadows of a slanting vale Where my allies kept guard, I hied me back To that doomed town, re-girt in glittering arms. Resolved was I all hazards to renew, All Troy to re-explore, and once again Offer my life to perils without end. The walls and gloomy gates whence forth I came I first revisit, and retrace my way, Searching the night once more. On all sides round Horror spread wide; the very silence breathed A terror on my soul. I hastened then Back to my fallen home, if haply there Her feet had strayed; but the invading Greeks Were its possessors, though the hungry fire Was blown along the roof-tree, and the flames Rolled raging upward on the fitful gale. To Priam’s house I haste, and climb once more The citadel; in Juno’s temple there, The chosen guardians of her wasted halls, Phœnix and dread Ulysses watched the spoil. Here, snatched away from many a burning fane, Troy’s treasures lay,—rich tables for the gods, Thick bowls of massy gold, and vestures rare, Confusedly heaped up, while round the pile Fair youths and trembling virgins stood forlorn.

Yet oft my voice rang dauntless through the gloom, From street to street I cried with anguish vain; And on Creüsa piteously calling, Woke the lamenting echoes o’er and o’er. While on this quest I roamed the city through, Of reason reft, there rose upon my sight— O shape of sorrow!—my Creüsa’s ghost, Hers truly, though a loftier port it wore. I quailed, my hair rose, and I gasped for fear; But thus she spoke, and soothed my grief away: “Why to these frenzied sorrows bend thy soul, “O husband ever dear! The will of Heaven “Hath brought all this to pass. Fate doth not send “Creüsa the long journeys thou shalt take, “Nor hath th’ Olympian King so given decree. “Long is thy banishment; thy ship must plough “The vast, far-spreading sea. Then shalt thou come “Unto Hesperia, whose fruitful plains “Are watered by the Tiber, Lydian stream, “Of smooth, benignant flow. Thou shalt obtain “Fair fortunes, and a throne and royal bride. “For thy beloved Creüsa weep no more! “No Myrmidon’s proud palace waits me now; “Dolopian shall not scorn, nor Argive dames “Command a slave of Dardan’s royal stem “And wife to Venus’ son. On these loved shores “The Mother of the Gods compels my stay. “Farewell! farewell! O, cherish evermore “Thy son and mine!” Her utterance scarce had ceased, When, as I strove through tears to make reply, She left me, and dissolved in empty air. Thrice would my frustrate arms her form enfold; Thrice from the clasp of hand that vision fled, Like wafted winds and like a fleeting dream.

The night had passed, and to my friends once more I made my way, much wondering to find A mighty multitude assembled there Of friends new-come,—matrons and men-at-arms, And youth for exile bound,—a doleful throng. From far and near they drew, their hearts prepared And their possessions gathered, to sail forth To lands unknown, wherever o’er the wave I bade them follow. Now above the crest Of loftiest Ida rose the morning-star, Chief in the front of day. The Greeks held fast The captive gates of Troy. No help or hope Was ours any more. Then, yielding all, And lifting once again my aged sire, For refuge to the distant hills I fled.