Book II

A general silence fell; and all gave ear,

while, from his lofty station at the feast,

Father Aeneas 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 Mycenae . 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. Thymoetes 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 voice to voice and doubt of all.

Then from the citadel, conspicuous,

Laocoon, with all his following choir,

hurried indignant down; and from afar

thus hailed the people: “O unhappy men!

What madness this? Who deems our foemen fled?

Think ye the gifts of Greece can lack for guile?

Have ye not known Ulysses? The Achaean

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 clout 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 then 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 Iying 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 expiation 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 fall. 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 Iost, 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,

or 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 Iost,

and favoring Pallas all her grace withdrew.

No dubious sign she gave. Scarce had they set

her statue in our 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 Mycenae , 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 practiced 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.

Laocoon, 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 Laocoon made way.

First round the tender limbs of his two sons

each dragon coiled, and on the shrinking flesh

fixed fast and fed. 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 orbed shield.

Such trembling horror as we ne'er had known

seized now on every heart. “ Of his vast guilt

Laocoon,” they say, “receives reward;

for he with most abominable spear

did strike and violate that blessed 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 pressed we 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

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, Epeus, 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 Iong? 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; Ioud 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 Iord 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 Mycenae 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 Coroebus, 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 the 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, Cormbus 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.

Coroebus' 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. Coroebus 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 Phoebus, 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 Iong 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 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 Achaea '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

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 Iying

in mortal agony; a vision too

of lost Creusa 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 Iong 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 Mycenae '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 cloth 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 Creusa 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 Iofty 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 Scaean 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 Iong

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 end me of mere pity, and for spoil

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 Creusa, 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 sat

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 a 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 die 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

Creusa 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!”