LX .   Here a new sight Æneas' hopes upraised,
And fear was softened, and his heart was mann'd.
For while, the queen awaiting, round he gazed,
And marvelled at the happy town, and scanned
The rival labours of each craftsman's hand,
Behold, Troy's battles on the walls appear,
The war, since noised through many a distant land,
There Priam and th' Atridæ twain, and here 		532
Achilles, fierce to both, still ruthless and severe.


LXI .   Pensive he stood, and with a rising tear,
"What lands, Achates, on the earth, but know
Our labours? See our Priam! Even here
Worth wins her due, and there are tears to flow,
And human hearts to feel for human woe.
Fear not," he cries, "Troy's glory yet shall gain
Some safety." Thus upon the empty show
He feeds his soul, while ever and again 		541
Deeply he sighs, and tears run down his cheeks like rain.


LXII .   He sees, how, fighting round the Trojan wall,
Here fled the Greeks, the Trojan youth pursue,
Here fled the Phrygians, and, with helmet tall,
Achilles in his chariot stormed and slew.
Not far, with tears, the snowy tents he knew
Of Rhesus, where Tydides, bathed in blood,
Broke in at midnight with his murderous crew,
And drove the hot steeds campward, ere the food 		550
Of Trojan plains they browsed, or drank the Xanthian flood.


LXIII .   There, reft of arms, poor Troilus, rash to dare
Achilles, by his horses dragged amain,
Hangs from his empty chariot. Neck and hair
Trail on the ground; his hand still grasps the rein;
The spear inverted scores the dusty plain.
Meanwhile, with beaten breasts and streaming hair,
The Trojan dames, a sad and suppliant train,
The veil to partial Pallas' temple bear. 		559
Stern, with averted eyes the Goddess spurns their prayer.


LXIV .   Thrice had Achilles round the Trojan wall
Dragged Hector; there the slayer sells the slain.
Sighing he sees him, chariot, arms and all,
And Priam, spreading helpless hands in vain.
Himself he knows among the Greeks again,
Black Memnon's arms, and all his Eastern clan,
Penthesilea's Amazonian train
With moony shields. Bare-breasted, in the van, 		568
Girt with a golden zone, the maiden fights with man.


LXV .   Thus while Æneas, with set gaze and long,
Hangs, mute with wonder, on the wildering scene,
Lo! to the temple, with a numerous throng
Of youthful followers, moves the beauteous Queen.
Such as Diana, with her Oreads seen
On swift Eurotas' banks or Cynthus' crest,
Leading the dances. She, in form and mien,
Armed with her quiver, towers above the rest, 		577
And tranquil pleasure thrills Latona's silent breast.


LXVI .   E'en such was Dido; so with joyous mien,
Urging the business of her rising state,
Among the concourse passed the Tyrian queen;
Then, girt with guards, within the temple's gate
Beneath the centre of the dome she sate.
There, ministering justice, she presides,
And deals the law, and from her throne of state,
As choice determines or as chance decides, 		586
To each, in equal share, his separate task divides.


LXVII .   Sudden, behold a concourse. Looking down,
His late-lost friends Æneas sees again,
Sergestus, brave Cloanthus of renown,
Antheus and others of the Trojan train,
Whom the black squall had scattered o'er the main,
And driven afar upon an alien strand.
At once, 'twixt joy and terror rent in twain,
Amazed, Æneas and Achates stand, 		595
And long to greet old friends and clasp a comrade's hand.


LXVIII .   Yet wildering wonder at so strange a scene
Still holds them mute, while anxious thoughts divide
Their doubtful minds, and in the cloud unseen,
Wrapt in its hollow covering, they abide
And note what fortune did their friends betide,
And whence they come, and why for grace they sue,
And on what shore they left the fleet to bide,
For chosen captains came from every crew, 		604
And towards the sacred fane with clamorous cries they drew.


LXIX .   Then, audience granted, as the fane they filled,
Thus calmly spake the eldest of the train,
Ilioneus: "O queen, whom Jove hath willed
To found this new-born city, here to reign,
And stubborn tribes with justice to refrain,
We, Troy's poor fugitives, implore thy grace,
Storm-tost and wandering over every main,—
Forbid the flames our vessels to deface, 		613
Mark our afflicted plight, and spare a pious race.


LXX .   "We come not hither with the sword to rend
Your Libyan homes, and shoreward drive the prey.
Nay, no such violence our thoughts intend,
Such pride suits not the vanquished. Far away
There lies a place—Greeks style the land to-day
Hesperia—fruitful and of ancient fame
And strong in arms. OEnotrian folk, they say,
First tilled the soil. Italian is the name 		622
Borne by the later race, with Italus who came.


LXXI .   "Thither we sailed, when, rising with the wave,
Orion dashed us on the shoals, the prey
Of wanton winds, and mastering billows drave
Our vessels on the pathless rocks astray.
We few have floated to your shore. O say,
What manner of mankind is here? What land
Is this, to treat us in this barbarous way?
They grudge the very shelter of the sand, 		631
And call to arms and bar our footsteps from the strand!


LXXII .   "If human kind and mortal arms ye scorn,
Think of the Gods, who judge the wrong and right.
A king was ours, Æneas; ne'er was born
A man more just, more valiant in the fight,
More famed for piety and deeds of might.
If yet he lives and looks upon the sun,
Nor cruel death hath snatched him from the light,
No fear have we, nor need hast thou to shun 		640
A Trojan guest, or rue kind offices begun.


LXXIII .   "Towns yet for us in Sicily remain,
And arms, and, sprung from Trojan sires of yore,
Our kinsman there, Acestes, holds his reign.
Grant us to draw our scattered fleet ashore,
And fit new planks and branches for the oar.
So, if with king and comrades brought again,
The Fates allow us to reach Italia's shore,
Italia gladly and the Latian plain 		649
Seek we; but else, if thoughts of safety be in vain,


LXXIV .   "If thee, dear Sire, the Libyan deep doth hide,
Nor hopes of young Iulus more can cheer,
Back let our barks to the Sicanian tide
And proffered homes and king Acestes steer."
He spake; the Dardans answered with a cheer.
Then Dido thus, with downcast look sedate;
"Take courage, Trojans, and dismiss your fear.
My kingdom's newness and the stress of Fate 		658
Force me to guard far off the frontiers of my state.


LXXV .   "Who knows not Troy, th' Æneian house of fame,
The deeds and doers, and the war's renown
That fired the world? Not hearts so dull and tame
Have Punic folk; not so is Phoebus known
To turn his back upon our Tyrian town.
Whether ye sail to great Hesperia's shore
And Saturn's fields, or seek the realms that own
Acestes' sway, where Eryx reigned of yore, 		667
Safe will I send you hence, and speed you with my store.


LXXVI .   "Else, would ye settle in this realm, the town
I build is yours; draw up your ships to land.
Trojan and Tyrian will I treat as one.
Would that your king Æneas here could stand,
Driven by the gale that drove you to this strand!
Natheless, to scour the country, will I send
Some trusty messengers, with strict command
To search through Libya to the furthest end, 		676
Lest, cast ashore, through town or lonely wood he wend."


LXXVII .   Roused by these words, long since the sire of Troy
Yearned, like his friend, their comrades to surprise
And burst the cloud. Then first with eager joy
"O Goddess-born," the bold Achates cries,
"How now—what purpose doth thy mind devise?
Lo! all are safe—ships, comrades brought again;
One only fails us, who before our eyes
Sank in the midst of the engulfing main. 		685
All else confirms the tale thy mother told thee plain."


LXXVIII .   Scarce had he said, when straight the ambient cloud
Broke open, melting into day's clear light,
And bathed in sunshine stood the chief, endowed
With shape and features most divinely bright.
For graceful tresses and the purple light
Of youth did Venus in her child unfold,
And sprightly lustre breathed upon his sight,
Beauteous as ivory, or when artists mould 		694
Silver or Parian stone, enchased in yellow gold.


LXXIX .   Then to the queen, all wondering, he exclaimed,
"Behold me, Troy's Æneas; I am here,
The man ye seek, from Libyan waves reclaimed.
Thou, who alone Troy's sorrows deign'st to hear,
And us, the gleanings of the Danaan spear,
Poor world-wide wanderers and in desperate case,
Hast ta'en to share thy city and thy cheer,
Meet thanks nor we, nor what of Dardan race 		703
Yet roams the earth, can give to recompense thy grace.


LXXX .   "The gods, if gods the good and just regard,
And thy own conscience, that approves the right,
Grant thee due guerdon and a fit reward.
What happy ages did thy birth delight?
What godlike parents bore a child so bright?
While running rivers hasten to the main,
While yon pure ether feeds the stars with light,
While shadows round the hill-slopes wax and wane, 		712
Thy fame, where'er I go, thy praises shall remain."


LXXXI .   So saying Æneas with his left hand pressed
Serestus, and Ilioneus with his right,
Brave Gyas, brave Cloanthus and the rest.
Then Dido, struck with wonder at the sight
Of one so great and in so strange a plight,
"O Goddess-born! what fate through dangers sore,
What force to savage coasts compels thy flight?
Art thou, then, that Æneas, whom of yore 		721
Venus on Simois' banks to old Anchises bore?


LXXXII .   "Ay, well I mind me how in days of yore
To Sidon exiled Teucer crossed the main,
To seek new kingdoms and the aid implore
Of Belus. He, my father Belus, then
Ruled Cyprus, victor of the wasted plain,
Since then thy name and Ilion's fate are known,
And all the princes of Pelasgia's reign.
Himself, a foe, oft lauded Troy's renown, 		730
And claimed the Teucrian sires as kinsmen of his own.


LXXXIII .   "Welcome, then, heroes! Me hath Fortune willed
Long tost, like you, through sufferings, here to rest
And find at length a refuge. Not unskilled
In woe, I learn to succour the distrest."
So to the palace she escorts her guest,
And calls for festal honours in the shrine.
Then shoreward sends beeves twenty to the rest,
A hundred boars, of broad and bristly chine, 		739
A hundred lambs and ewes and gladdening gifts of wine.


LXXXIV .   Meanwhile with regal splendour they arrayed
The palace-hall, where feast and banquet high
All in the centre of the space is laid,
And forth they bring the broidered tapestry,
With purple dyed and wrought full cunningly.
The tables groan with silver; there are told
The deeds of prowess for the gazer's eye,
A long, long series, of their sires of old, 		748
Traced from the nation's birth, and graven in the gold.


LXXXV .   But good Æneas—for a father's care
No rest allows him—to the ships sends down
Achates, to Ascanius charged to bear
The welcome news, and bring him to the town.
The father's fondness centres on the son.
Rich presents, too, he sends for, saved of old
From Troy, a veil, whose saffron edges shone
Fringed with acanthus, glorious to behold, 		757
A broidered mantle, stiff with figures wrought in gold.


LXXXVI .   Fair Helen's ornaments, from Argos brought,
The gift of Leda, when the Trojan shore
And lawless nuptials o'er the waves she sought.
Therewith the royal sceptre, which of yore
Ilione, Priam's eldest daughter, bore;
Her shining necklace, strung with costly beads,
And diadem, rimmed with gold and studded o'er
With sparkling gems. Thus charged, Achates heeds, 		766
And towards the ships forthwith in eager haste proceeds.


LXXXVII .   But crafty Cytherea planned meanwhile
New arts, new schemes,—that Cupid should conspire,
In likeness of Ascanius, to beguile
The queen with gifts, and kindle fierce desire,
And turn the marrow of her bones to fire.
Fierce Juno's hatred rankles in her breast;
The two-faced house, the double tongues of Tyre
She fears, and with the night returns unrest; 		775
So now to wingèd Love this mandate she addressed:


LXXXVIII .   "O son, sole source of all my strength and power,
Who durst high Jove's Typhoean bolts disdain,
To thee I fly, thy deity implore.
Thou know'st, who oft hast sorrowed with my pain,
How, tost by Juno's rancour, o'er the main
Thy brother wanders. Him with speeches fair
And sweet allurements doth the queen detain;
But Juno's hospitality I fear; 		784
Scarce at an hour like this will she her hand forbear.


LXXXIX .   "Soft snares I purpose round the queen to weave,
And wrap her soul in flames, that power malign
Shall never change her, but her heart shall cleave
Fast to Æneas with a love like mine.
Now learn, how best to compass my design.
To Tyrian Carthage hastes the princely boy,
Prompt at the summons of his sire divine,
My prime solicitude, my chiefest joy, 		793
Fraught with brave store of gifts, saved from the flames of Troy.


XC .   "Him on Idalia, lulled into a dream,
Will I secrete, or on the sacred height
Of lone Cythera, lest he learn the scheme,
Or by his sudden presence mar the sleight.
Take thou his likeness, only for a night,
And wear the boyish features that are thine;
And when the queen, in rapture of delight,
Amid the royal banquet and the wine, 		802
Shall lock thee in her arms, and press her lips to thine,


XCI .   "Then steal into her bosom, and inspire
Through all her veins with unsuspected sleight
The poisoned sting of passion and desire."
Young Love obeys, and doffs his plumage light,
And, like Iulus, trips forth with delight.
She o'er Ascanius rains a soft repose,
And gently bears him to Idalia's height,
Where breathing marjoram around him throws 		811
Sweet shade, and odorous flowers his slumbering limbs compose.


XCII .   Forth Cupid, at his mother's word, repairs,
And merrily, for brave Achates led,
The royal presents to the Tyrians bears.
There, under gorgeous curtains, at the head
Sate Dido, throned upon a golden bed.
There, flocking in, the Trojans and their King
Recline on purple coverlets outspread.
Bread, heaped in baskets, the attendants bring, 		820
Towels with smooth-shorn nap, and water from the spring.


XCIII .   Within are fifty maidens, charged with care
To dress the food, and nurse the flames divine.
A hundred more, and youths like-aged, prepare
To load the tables and arrange the wine.
There, entering too, on broidered seats recline
The Tyrians, crowding through the festive court.
They praise the boy, his glowing looks divine,
The words he feigned, the royal gifts he brought, 		829
The robe, the saffron veil with bright acanthus wrought.


XCIV .   Doomed to devouring Love, the hapless queen
Burns as she gazes, with insatiate fire,
Charmed by his presents and his youthful mien:
He, fondly clinging to his fancied sire,
Gave all the love that parents' hearts desire,
Then seeks the queen. She, fixing on the boy
Her eyes, her soul, impatient to admire,
Now, fondling, folds him to her lap with joy; 		838
Weetless, alas! what god is plotting to destroy.


XCV .   True to his Paphian mother, trace by trace,
Slowly the Love-god with prevenient art,
Begins the lost Sychæus to efface,
And living passion to a breast impart
Long dead to feeling, and a vacant heart.
Now, hushed the banquet and the tables all
Removed, huge wine-bowls for each guest apart
They wreathe with flowers. The noise of festival 		847
Rings through the spacious courts, and rolls along the hall.


XCVI .   There, blazing from the gilded roof, are seen
Bright lamps, and torches turn the night to day.
Now for the ponderous goblet called the Queen,
Of jewelled gold, which Belus used and they
Of Belus' line, and poured the wine straightway,
And prayed, while silence filled the crowded hall:
"Great Jove, the host's lawgiver, bless this day
To these my Tyrians and the Trojans all. 		856
Long may our children's sons this solemn feast recall.


XCVII .   "Come, jolly Bacchus, giver of delight;
Kind Juno, come; and ye with fair accord
And friendly spirit hold the feast aright."
So spake the Queen, and on the festal board
The prime libation to the gods outpoured,
Then lightly to her lips the goblet pressed,
And gave to Bitias. Challenged by the word,
He dived into the brimming gold with zest, 		865
And quaffed the foaming bowl, and after him, the rest.


XCVIII .   His golden lyre long-haired Iopas tunes,
And sings what Atlas taught in loftiest strain;
The suns' eclipses and the changing moons,
Whence man and beast, whence lightning and the rain,
Arcturus, watery Hyads and the Wain;
What causes make the winter nights so long,
Why sinks the sun so quickly in the main;
All this he sings, and ravished at the song, 		874
Tyrians and Trojan guests the loud applause prolong.


XCIX .   With various talk the night poor Dido wore,
And drank deep love, and nursed her inward flame,
Of Priam much she asks, of Hector more,
Now in what arms Aurora's offspring came,
Of Diomede's horses and Achilles' fame.
"Tell me," she says, "thy wanderings; stranger, come,
Thy friends' mishaps and Danaan wiles proclaim;
For seven long summers now have seen thee roam 		883
O'er every land and sea, far from thy native home."

BOOK TWO

ARGUMENT

Æneas' story.—The Greeks, baffled in battle, built a wooden horse, in which their leaders took ambush. Their fleet sailed to Tenedos. The Trojans, but for Capys and Laocoon, had dragged the horse forthwith as a trophy into Troy (1-72). Sinon, a Greek, brought before Priam, feigns righteous indignation against Greece. The Trojans sympathise and believe his story of wrongs done him by Ulysses (73-126). "When Greek plans of flight had often," says Sinon, "been foiled by storms, oracles foretold that only a human sacrifice could purchase their escape." Chosen for victim, Sinon had fled. He solemnly declares the horse to be an offering to Pallas. "Destroy it, and you are lost. Preserve it in your citadel, your revenge is assured" (127-222). Treachery triumphs. Laocoon's cruel fate is ascribed to his sacrilegious attack upon the horse, which is brought with rejoicing into Troy, despite a last warning, from Cassandra (223-288). While Troy sleeps, the fleet returns, and Sinon releases the Greeks from the horse (289-315). Hector's wraith warns Æneas in a dream to flee with the sacred vessels and images (316-351), and Panthus brings news of Sinon's treachery. The city is in flames. Æneas heads a forlorn hope of rescue (352-441). He and his followers exchange armour with certain Greeks slain in the darkness. The ruse succeeds until they are taken for enemies by their friends. The Greeks rally. The Trojans scatter. At Priam's palace a last stand is made, but Pyrrhus forces the great gates, and the defenders are massacred (442-603). Priam's fate.—The sight of his headless corpse draws Æneas' thoughts to his own father's danger. Hastening homewards he espies Helen, and is pausing to take vengeance and her life, when (604-711) Venus intervening opens his eyes to see the gods aiding the Greeks (712-756). Æneas regains his home. Anchises obstinately refuses to flee, until a halo is seen about the head of Ascanius (757-828), whereupon he accepts the omen and yields. The escape.—In a sudden panic Creusa is lost (829-900). Æneas, at peril of his life, is seeking her throughout the city, when her wraith appears and bids him away. "She is dead in Troytown: in Italy empire awaits him." She vanishes: day dawns: and Æneas, with Anchises and the surviving Trojans, flees to the hills (901-972).


I .   All hushed intent, when from his lofty seat
Troy's sire began, "O queen, a tale too true,
Too sad for words, thou biddest me repeat;
How Ilion perished, and the Danaan crew
Her power and all her wailful realm o'erthrew:
The woes I saw, thrice piteous to behold,
And largely shared. What Myrmidon, or who
Of stern Ulysses' warriors can withhold 		1
His tears, to tell such things, as thou would'st have re-told?


II .   "And now already from the heaven's high steep
The dewy night wheels down, and sinking slow,
The stars are gently wooing us to sleep.
But, if thy longing be so great to know
The tale of Troy's last agony and woe,
The toils we suffered, though my heart doth ache,
And grief would fain the memory forego
Of scenes so sad, yet, Lady, for thy sake 		10
I will begin,"—and thus the sire of Troy outspake;


III .   "Broken by war, long baffled by the force
Of fate, as fortune and their hopes decline,
The Danaan leaders build a monstrous horse,
Huge as a hill, by Pallas' craft divine,
And cleft fir-timbers in the ribs entwine.
They feign it vowed for their return, so goes
The tale, and deep within the sides of pine
And caverns of the womb by stealth enclose 		19
Armed men, a chosen band, drawn as the lots dispose.


IV .   "In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle
Renowned and rich, while Priam held command,
Now a mere bay and roadstead fraught with guile.
Thus far they sailed, and on the lonely strand
Lay hid, while fondly to Mycenæ's land
We thought the winds had borne them. Troy once more
Shakes off her ten years' sorrow. Open stand
The gates. With joy to the abandoned shore, 		28
The places bare of foes, the Dorian lines we pour.


V .   "Here camped the brave Dolopians, there was set
The tent of fierce Achilles; yonder lay
The fleet, and here the rival armies met
And mingled. Some with wonder and dismay
The maid Minerva's fatal gift survey.
Then first Thymætes cries aloud, to go
And through the gates the monstrous horse convey
And lodge it in the citadel. E'en so 		37
His fraud or Troy's dark fates were working for our woe.


VI .   "But Capys and the rest, of sounder mind,
Urge us to tumble in the rolling tide
The doubtful gift, for treachery designed,
Or burn with fire, or pierce the hollow side,
And probe the caverns where the Danaans hide.
Thus while they waver and, perplext with doubt,
Urge diverse counsels, and in parts divide,
Lo, from the citadel, foremost of a rout, 		46
Breathless Laocoon runs, and from afar cries out;


VII .   "'Ah! wretched townsmen! do ye think the foe
Gone, or that guileless are their gifts? O blind
With madness! Thus Ulysses do ye know?
Or Grecians in these timbers lurk confined,
Or 'tis some engine of assault, designed
To breach the walls, and lay our houses bare,
And storm the town. Some mischief lies behind.
Trust not the horse, ye Teucrians. Whatso'er 		55
This means, I fear the Greeks, for all the gifts they bear.'


VIII .   "So saying, his mighty spear, with all his force,
Full at the flank against the ribs he drave,
And pierced the bellying framework of the horse.
Quivering, it stood; the hollow chambers gave
A groan, that echoed from the womb's dark cave,
Then, but for folly or Fate's adverse power,
His word had made us with our trusty glaive
Lay bare the Argive ambush, and this hour 		64
Should Ilion stand, and thou, O Priam's lofty tower!


IX .   "Lo, now to Priam, with exulting cries,
The Dardan shepherds drag a youth unknown,
With hands fast pinioned, and in captive guise.
Caught on the way, by cunning of his own,
This end to compass, and betray the town.
Prepared for either venture, void of fear,
The crafty purpose of his mind to crown,
Or meet sure death. Around, from far and near, 		73
The Trojans throng, and vie the captive youth to jeer.


X .   "Mark now the Danaans' cunning; from one wrong
Learn all. As, scared the Phrygian ranks to see,
Confused, unarmed, amid the gazing throng,
He stood, 'Alas! what spot on earth or sea
Is left,' he cried, 'to shield a wretch like me,
Whom Dardans seek in punishment to kill,
And Greeks disown?'—Touched by his tearful plea,
We asked his race, what tidings, good or ill, 		82
He brings, for hope, perchance, may cheer a captive still.


XI .   "Then he, at length his show of fear laid by,
'Great King, all truly will I own, whate'er
The issue, nor my Argive race deny.
This first; if fortune, spiteful and unfair,
Hath made poor Sinon wretched, fortune ne'er
Shall make me false or faithless;—if the name
Of Palamedes thou hast chanced to hear,
Old Belus' progeny, if ever came 		91
To thee or thine in talk the rumour of his fame,


XII .   "'Whom, pure of guilt, on charges false and feigned,
Wroth that his sentence should the war prevent,
By perjured witnesses the Greeks arraigned,
And doomed to die, but now his death lament,
His kinsman, by a needy father sent,
With him in boyhood to the war I came,
And while in plenitude of power he went,
And high in princely counsels waxed his fame, 		100
I too could boast of credit and a noble name.


XIII .   "'But when, through sly Ulysses' envious hate,
He left the light,—alas! the tale ye know,—
Stricken, I mused indignant on his fate,
And dragged my days in solitude and woe,
Nor in my madness kept my purpose low,
But vowed, if e'er should happier chance invite,
And bring me home a conqueror, even so
My comrade's death with vengeance to requite. 		109
My words aroused his wrath; thence evil's earliest blight;


XIV .   "'Thenceforth Ulysses sought with slanderous tongue
To daunt me, scattering in the people's ear
Dark hints, and looked for partners of his wrong:
Nor rested, till with Calchas' aid, the seer—
But why the thankless story should ye hear?
Why stay your hand? If Grecians in your sight
Are all alike, ye know enough; take here
Your vengeance. Dearly will my death delight 		118
Ulysses, well the deed will Atreus' sons requite.'


XV .   "Then, all unknowing of Pelasgian art
And crimes so huge, the story we demand,
And falteringly the traitor plays his part.
'Oft, wearied by the war, the Danaans planned
To leave—and oh! had they but left—the land.
As oft, to daunt them, in the act to fly,
Storms lashed the deep, and Southern gales withstand,
And louder still, when towered the horse on high 		127
With maple timbers, pealed the thunder through the sky.


XVI .   "'In doubt, we bade Eurypylus explore
Apollo's oracle, and back he brought
The dismal news: With blood, a maiden's gore,
Ye stilled the winds, when Trojan shores ye sought.
With blood again must your return be bought;
An Argive victim doth the God demand.
Full fast the rumour 'mong the people wrought;
Cold horror chills us, and aghast we stand; 		136
Whom doth Apollo claim, whose death the Fates demand?


XVII .   "'Then straight Ulysses, 'mid tumultuous cries,
Drags Calchas forth, and bids the seer unfold
The dark and doubtful meaning of the skies.
Many e'en then the schemer's crime foretold,
And, silent, saw my destiny unrolled.
Ten days the seer, as shrinking to reply
Or name a victim, did the doom withhold;
Then, forced by false Ulysses' clamorous cry, 		145
Spake the concerted word, and sentenced me to die.


XVIII .   "'All praised the sentence, pleased that one alone
Should suffer, glad that one poor wretch should bear
The doom that each had dreaded for his own.
The fatal day was come; the priests prepare
The salted meal, the fillets for my hair.
I fled, 'tis true, and saved my life by flight,
Bursting my bonds in frenzy of despair,
And hidden in a marish lay that night, 		154
Waiting till they should sail, if sail, perchance, they might.


XIX .   "'No hope have I my ancient fatherland,
Or darling boys, or long-lost sire to see,
Whom now perchance, the Danaans will demand,
Poor souls! for vengeance, and their death decree,
To purge my crime, in daring to be free.
O by the gods, who know the just and true,
By faith unstained,—if any such there be,—
With mercy deign such miseries to view; 		163
Pity a soul that toils with evils all undue.'


XX .   "So, moved at length to pity by his tears,
We spare him. Priam bids the cords unbind,
And thus with friendly words the captive cheers;
'Whoe'er thou art, henceforward blot from mind
The Greeks, and leave thy miseries behind.
Ours shalt thou be; but mark, and tell me now,
What means this monster, for what use designed?
Some warlike engine? or religious vow? 		172
Who planned the steed, and why? Come, quick, the truth avow.'


XXI .   "Then schooled in cunning and Pelasgian sleights,
His hands unshackled to the stars he spread;
'Ye powers inviolate, ever-burning lights!
Ye ruthless swords and altars, which I fled,
Ye sacred fillets, that adorned my head!
Freed is my oath, and I am free to lay
Their secrets bare, and wish the Danaans dead.
Thou, Troy, preserved, to Sinon faithful stay, 		181
If true the tale I tell, if large the price I pay.


XXII .   "'All hopes on Pallas, since the war begun,
All trust was stayed. But when Ulysses, fain
To weave new crimes, with Tydeus' impious son
Dragged the Palladium from her sacred fane,
And, on the citadel the warders slain,
Upon the virgin's image dared to lay
Red hands of slaughter, and her wreaths profane,
Hope ebbed and failed them from that fatal day, 		190
The Danaans' strength grew weak, the goddess turned away.


XXIII .   "'No dubious signs Tritonia's wrath declared.
Scarce stood her image in the camp, when bright
With flickering flames her staring eyeballs glared.
Salt sweat ran down her; thrice, a wondrous sight!
With shield and quivering spear she sprang upright.
"Back o'er the deep," cries Calchas; "nevermore
Shall Argives hope to quell the Trojan might,
Till, homeward borne, new omens ye implore, 		199
And win the blessing back, which o'er the waves ye bore."


XXIV .   "'So now to Argos are they gone, to gain
Fresh help from heaven, and hither by surprise
Shall come once more, remeasuring the main.
Thus Calchas warned them; by his words made wise
This steed, for stol'n Palladium, they devise,
To soothe the outrag'd goddess. Tall and great,
With huge oak-timbers mounting to the skies,
They build the monster, lest it pass the gate, 		208
And like Palladium stand, the bulwark of the State.


XXV .   "'"Once had your hands," said Calchas, "dared profane
Minerva's gift, dire plagues" (which Heaven forestall
Or turn on him) "should Priam's realm sustain;
But if by Trojan aid it scaled your wall,
Proud Asia then should Pelops' sons enthrall,
And children rue the folly of the sire."'
His arts gave credence, and forced tears withal
Snared us, whom Diomede, nor Achilles dire, 		217
Nor thousand ships subdued, nor ten years' war could tire.


XXVI .   "A greater yet and ghastlier sign remained
Our heedless hearts to terrify anew.
Laocoon, Neptune's priest, by lot ordained,
A stately bull before the altar slew,
When lo!—the tale I shudder to pursue,—
From Tenedos in silence, side by side,
Two monstrous serpents, horrible to view,
With coils enormous leaning on the tide, 		226
Shoreward, with even stretch, the tranquil sea divide.


XXVII .   "Their breasts erect they rear amid the deep,
Their blood-red crests above the surface shine,
Their hinder parts along the waters sweep,
Trailed in huge coils and many a tortuous twine;
Lashed into foam, behind them roars the brine;
Now, gliding onward to the beach, ere long
They gain the fields, and rolling bloodshot eyne
That blaze with fire, the monsters move along, 		235
And lick their hissing jaws, and dart a flickering tongue.


XXVIII .   "Pale at the sight we fly; unswerving, these
Glide on and seek Laocoon. First, entwined
In stringent folds, his two young sons they seize,
With cruel fangs their tortured limbs to grind.
Then, as with arms he comes to aid, they bind
In giant grasp the father. Twice, behold,
Around his waist the horrid volumes wind,
Twice round his neck their scaly backs are rolled, 		244
High over all their heads and glittering crests unfold.


XXIX .   "Both hands are labouring the fierce knots to pull;
Black gore and slime his sacred wreaths distain.
Loud are his moans, as when a wounded bull
Shakes from his neck the faltering axe and, fain
To fly the cruel altars, roars in pain.
But lo! the serpents to Tritonia's seat
Glide from their victim, till the shrine they gain,
And, coiled beside the goddess, at her feet, 		253
Behind her sheltering shield with gathered orbs retreat.


XXX .   "Fresh wonder seized us, and we shook with fear.
All say, that justly had Laocoon died,
And paid fit penalty, whose guilty spear
Profaned the steed and pierced the sacred side.
'On with the image to its home,' they cried,
'And pray the Goddess to avert our woe';
We breach the walls, and ope the town inside.
All set to work, and to the feet below 		262
Fix wheels, and hempen ropes around the neck they throw.


XXXI .   "Mounting the walls, the monster moves along,
Teeming with arms. Boys, maidens joy around
To touch the ropes, and raise the festive song.
Onward it came, smooth-sliding on the ground,
And, beetling, o'er the midmost city frowned.
O native land! O Ilion, now betrayed!
Blest home of deities, in war renowned!
Four times beside the very gate 'twas stayed; 		271
Four times within the womb the armour clashed and brayed.


XXXII .   "But heedless, blind with frenzy, one and all
Up to the sacred citadel we strain,
And there the ill-omened prodigy install.
E'en then—alas! to Trojan ears in vain—
Cassandra sang, and told in utterance plain
The coming doom. We, sunk in careless joy,
Poor souls! with festive garlands deck each fane,
And through the town in revelry employ 		280
The day decreed our last, the dying hours of Troy!


XXXIII .   "And now the heaven rolled round. From ocean rushed
The Night, and wrapt in shadow earth and air
And Myrmidonian wiles. In silence hushed,
The Trojans through the city here and there,
Outstretched in sleep, their weary limbs repair.
Meanwhile from neighbouring Tenedos once more,
Beneath the tranquil moonbeam's friendly care,
With ordered ships, along the deep sea-floor, 		289
Back came the Argive host, and sought the well-known shore.


XXXIV .   "Forth from the royal galley sprang the flame,
When Sinon, screened by partial Fate, withdrew
The bolts and barriers of the pinewood frame,
And from its inmost caverns, bared to view,
The fatal horse disgorged the Danaan crew.
With joy from out the hollow wood they bound;
First, dire Ulysses, with his captains two,
Thessander bold and Sthenelus renowned, 		298
Down by a pendent rope come sliding to the ground.


XXXV .   "Then Thoas comes; and Acamas, athirst
For blood; and Neoptolemus, the heir
Of mighty Peleus; and Machaon first;
And Menelaus; and himself is there,
Epeus, framer of the fatal snare.
Now, stealing forward, on the town they fall,
Buried in wine and sleep, the guards o'erbear,
And ope the gates; their comrades at the call 		307
Pour in and, joining bands, all muster by the wall.


XXXVI .   "'Twas now the time, when on tired mortals crept
First slumber, sweetest that celestials pour.
Methought I saw poor Hector, as I slept,
All bathed in tears and black with dust and gore,
Dragged by the chariot and his swoln feet sore
With piercing thongs. Ah me! how sad to view,
How changed from him, that Hector, whom of yore
Returning with Achilles' spoils we knew, 		316
When on the ships of Greece his Phrygian fires he threw.


XXXVII .   "Foul is his beard, his hair is stiff with gore,
And fresh the wounds, those many wounds, remain,
Which erst around his native walls he bore.
Then, weeping too, I seem in sorrowing strain
To hail the hero, with a voice of pain.
'O light of Troy, our refuge! why and how
This long delay? Whence comest thou again,
Long-looked-for Hector? How with aching brow, 		325
Worn out by toil and death, do we behold thee now!


XXXVIII .   "'But oh! what dire indignity hath marred
The calmness of thy features? Tell me, why
With ghastly wounds do I behold thee scarred?'
To such vain quest he cared not to reply,
But, heaving from his breast a deep-drawn sigh,
'Fly, Goddess-born! and get thee from the fire!
The foes,' he said, 'are on the ramparts. Fly!
All Troy is tumbling from her topmost spire. 		334
No more can Priam's land, nor Priam's self require.


XXXIX .   "'Could Troy be saved by mortal prowess, mine,
Yea, mine had saved her. To thy guardian care
She doth her Gods and ministries consign.
Take them, thy future destinies to share,
And seek for them another home elsewhere,
That mighty city, which for thee and thine
O'er traversed ocean shall the Fates prepare.'
He spake, and quickly snatched from Vesta's shrine 		343
The deathless fire and wreaths and effigy divine.


XL .   "Meanwhile a mingled murmur through the street
Rolls onward,—wails of anguish, shrieks of fear,
And though my father's mansion stood secrete,
Embowered in foliage, nearer and more near
Peals the dire clang of arms, and loud and clear,
Borne on fierce echoes that in tumult blend,
War-shout and wail come thickening on the ear.
I start from sleep, the parapet ascend, 		352
And from the sloping roof with eager ears attend.


XLI .   "Like as a fire, when Southern gusts are rude,
Falls on the standing harvest of the plain,
Or torrent, hurtling with a mountain flood,
Whelms field and oxens' toil and smiling grain,
And rolls whole forests headlong to the main,
While, weetless of the noise, on neighbouring height,
Tranced in mute wonder, stands the listening swain,
Then, then I see that Hector's words were right, 		361
And all the Danaan wiles are naked to the light.


XLII .   "And now, Deiphobus, thy halls of pride,
Bowed by the flames, come ruining through the air;
Next burn Ucalegon's, and far and wide
The broad Sigean reddens with the glare.
Then come the clamour and the trumpet's blare.
Madly I rush to arms; though vain the fight,
Yet burns my soul, in fury and despair,
To rally a handful and to hold the height: 		370
Sweet seems a warrior's death and danger a delight.


XLIII .   "Lo, Panthus, flying from the Grecian bands,
Panthus, the son of Othrys, Phoebus' seer,
Bearing the sacred vessels in his hands,
And vanquished home-gods, to the door draws near,
His grandchild clinging to his side in fear.
'Panthus,' I cry, 'how fares the fight? what tower
Still hold we?'—Sighing, he replies ''Tis here,
The final end of all the Dardan power, 		379
The last, sad day has come, the inevitable hour.


XLIV .   "'Troy was, and we were Trojans, now, alas!
No more, for perished is the Dardan fame.
Fierce Jove to Argos biddeth all to pass,
And Danaans rule a city wrapt in flame.
High in the citadel the monstrous frame
Pours forth an armed deluge to the day,
And Sinon, puffed with triumph, spreads the flame.
Part throng the gates, part block each narrow way; 		388
Such hosts Mycenæ sends, such thousands to the fray.


XLV .   "'Athwart the streets stands ready the array
Of steel, and bare is every blade and bright.
Scarce the first warders of the gates essay
To stand and battle in the blinding night.'
So spake the son of Othrys, and forthright,
My spirit stirred with impulse from on high,
I rush to arms amid the flames and fight,
Where yells the war-fiend and the warrior's cry, 		397
Mixt with the din of strife, mounts upward to the sky.


XLVI .   "Here warlike Epytus, renowned in fight,
And valiant Rhipeus gather to our side,
And Hypanis and Dymas, matched in might,
Join with us, by the glimmering moon descried.
Here Mygdon's son, Coroebus, we espied,
Who came to Troy,—Cassandra's love to gain,
And now his troop with Priam's hosts allied;
Poor youth and heedless! whom in frenzied strain 		406
His promised bride had warned, but warned, alas! in vain.


XLVII .   "So when the bold and compact band I see,
'Brave hearts,' I cry, 'but brave, alas! in vain;
If firm your purpose holds to follow me
Who dare the worst, our present plight is plain.
Troy's guardian gods have left her; altar, fane,
All is deserted, every temple bare.
The town ye aid is burning. Forward, then,
To die and mingle in the tumult's blare. 		415
Sole hope to vanquished men of safety is despair.'