No More Learning

Tyrian maidens are
wont ever to wear the quiver, to tie the purple buskin high above their
ankle. Punic is the realm thou seest, Tyrian the people, and the city of
Agenor's kin; but their borders are Libyan, a race unassailable in war.
Dido sways the sceptre, who flying her brother set sail from the Tyrian
town. Long is the tale of crime, long and intricate; but I will briefly
follow its argument. Her husband was Sychaeus, wealthiest in lands of
the Phoenicians, and loved of her with ill-fated passion; to whom with
virgin rites her father had given her maidenhood in wedlock. But the
kingdom of Tyre was in her brother Pygmalion's hands, a monster of guilt
unparalleled. Between these madness came; the unnatural brother, blind
with lust of gold, and reckless of his sister's love, lays Sychaeus low
before the altars with stealthy unsuspected weapon; and for long he hid
the deed, and by many a crafty pretence cheated her love-sickness with
hollow hope. But in slumber came the very ghost of her unburied husband;
lifting up a face pale in wonderful wise, he exposed the merciless
altars and [356-387]his breast stabbed through with steel, and unwove
all the blind web of household guilt. Then he counsels hasty flight out
of the country, and to aid her passage discloses treasures long hidden
underground, an untold mass of silver and gold. Stirred thereby, Dido
gathered a company for flight. All assemble in whom hatred of the tyrant
was relentless or fear keen; they seize on ships that chanced to lie
ready, and load them with the gold. Pygmalion's hoarded wealth is borne
overseas; a woman leads the work. They came at last to the land where
thou wilt descry a city now great, New Carthage, and her rising citadel,
and bought ground, called thence Byrsa, as much as a bull's hide would
encircle. But who, I pray, are you, or from what coasts come, or whither
hold you your way? '

At her question he, sighing and drawing speech deep from his breast,
thus replied:

'Ah goddess, should I go on retracing from the fountain head, were time
free to hear the history of our woes, sooner would the evening star lay
day asleep in the closed gates of heaven. Us, as from ancient Troy (if
the name of Troy hath haply passed through your ears) we sailed over
alien seas, the tempest at his own wild will hath driven on the Libyan
coast. I am Aeneas the good, who carry in my fleet the household gods I
rescued from the enemy; my fame is known high in heaven. I seek Italy my
country, my kin of Jove's supreme blood. With twenty sail did I climb
the Phrygian sea; oracular tokens led me on; my goddess mother pointed
the way; scarce seven survive the shattering of wave and wind. Myself
unknown, destitute, driven from Europe and Asia, I wander over the
Libyan wilderness. '

But staying longer complaint, Venus thus broke in on his half-told
sorrows:

'Whoso thou art, not hated I think of the immortals [388-420]dost thou
draw the breath of life, who hast reached the Tyrian city. Only go on,
and betake thee hence to the courts of the queen. For I declare to thee
thy comrades are restored, thy fleet driven back into safety by the
shifted northern gales, except my parents were pretenders, and
unavailing the augury they taught me. Behold these twelve swans in
joyous line, whom, stooping from the tract of heaven, the bird of Jove
fluttered over the open sky; now in long train they seem either to take
the ground or already to look down on the ground they took. As they
again disport with clapping wings, and utter their notes as they circle
the sky in company, even so do these ships and crews of thine either lie
fast in harbour or glide under full sail into the harbour mouth. Only go
on, and turn thy steps where the pathway leads thee. '

Speaking she turned away, and her neck shone roseate, her immortal
tresses breathed the fragrance of deity; her raiment fell flowing down
to her feet, and the godhead was manifest in her tread. He knew her for
his mother, and with this cry pursued her flight: 'Thou also merciless!
Why mockest thou thy son so often in feigned likeness? Why is it
forbidden to clasp hand in hand, to hear and utter true speech? ' Thus
reproaching her he bends his steps towards the city. But Venus girt them
in their going with dull mist, and shed round them a deep divine
clothing of cloud, that none might see them, none touch them, or work
delay, or ask wherefore they came. Herself she speeds through the sky to
Paphos, and joyfully revisits her habitation, where the temple and its
hundred altars steam with Sabaean incense, and are fresh with fragrance
of chaplets in her worship.

They meantime have hasted along where the pathway points, and now were
climbing the hill which hangs enormous over the city, and looks down on
its facing towers. [421-456]Aeneas marvels at the mass of building,
pastoral huts once of old, marvels at the gateways and clatter of the
pavements. The Tyrians are hot at work to trace the walls, to rear the
citadel, and roll up great stones by hand, or to choose a spot for their
dwelling and enclose it with a furrow. They ordain justice and
magistrates, and the august senate. Here some are digging harbours, here
others lay the deep foundations of their theatre, and hew out of the
cliff vast columns, the lofty ornaments of the stage to be: even as bees
when summer is fresh over the flowery country ply their task beneath the
sun, when they lead forth their nation's grown brood, or when they press
the liquid honey and strain their cells with nectarous sweets, or
relieve the loaded incomers, or in banded array drive the idle herd of
drones far from their folds; they swarm over their work, and the odorous
honey smells sweet of thyme. 'Happy they whose city already rises! '
cries Aeneas, looking on the town roofs below. Girt in the cloud he
passes amid them, wonderful to tell, and mingling with the throng is
descried of none.

In the heart of the town was a grove deep with luxuriant shade, wherein
first the Phoenicians, buffeted by wave and whirlwind, dug up the token
Queen Juno had appointed, the head of a war horse: thereby was their
race to be through all ages illustrious in war and opulent in living.
Here to Juno was Sidonian Dido founding a vast temple, rich with
offerings and the sanctity of her godhead: brazen steps rose on the
threshold, brass clamped the pilasters, doors of brass swung on grating
hinges. First in this grove did a strange chance meet his steps and
allay his fears; first here did Aeneas dare to hope for safety and have
fairer trust in his shattered fortunes. For while he closely scans the
temple that towers above him, while, awaiting the queen, he admires the
fortunate city, the emulous hands and elaborate work of her craftsmen,
he sees ranged in order the [457-491]battles of Ilium, that war whose
fame was already rumoured through all the world, the sons of Atreus and
Priam, and Achilles whom both found pitiless. He stopped and cried
weeping, 'What land is left, Achates, what tract on earth that is not
full of our agony? Behold Priam! Here too is the meed of honour, here
mortal estate touches the soul to tears. Dismiss thy fears; the fame of
this will somehow bring thee salvation. '

So speaks he, and fills his soul with the painted show, sighing often
the while, and his face wet with a full river of tears. For he saw, how
warring round the Trojan citadel here the Greeks fled, the men of Troy
hard on their rear; here the Phrygians, plumed Achilles in his chariot
pressing their flight. Not far away he knows the snowy canvas of Rhesus'
tents, which, betrayed in their first sleep, the blood-stained son of
Tydeus laid desolate in heaped slaughter, and turns the ruddy steeds
away to the camp ere ever they tasted Trojan fodder or drunk of Xanthus.
Elsewhere Troilus, his armour flung away in flight--luckless boy, no
match for Achilles to meet! --is borne along by his horses, and thrown
back entangled with his empty chariot, still clutching the reins; his
neck and hair are dragged over the ground, and his reversed spear scores
the dust. Meanwhile the Ilian women went with disordered tresses to
unfriendly Pallas' temple, and bore the votive garment, sadly beating
breast with palm: the goddess turning away held her eyes fast on the
ground. Thrice had Achilles whirled Hector round the walls of Troy, and
was selling the lifeless body for gold; then at last he heaves a loud
and heart-deep groan, as the spoils, as the chariot, as the dear body
met his gaze, and Priam outstretching unarmed hands. Himself too he knew
joining battle with the foremost Achaeans, knew the Eastern ranks and
swart Memnon's armour. Penthesilea leads her crescent-shielded Amazonian
columns in furious heat with [492-524]thousands around her; clasping a
golden belt under her naked breast, the warrior maiden clashes boldly
with men.

While these marvels meet Dardanian Aeneas' eyes, while he dizzily hangs
rapt in one long gaze, Dido the queen entered the precinct, beautiful
exceedingly, a youthful train thronging round her. Even as on Eurotas'
banks or along the Cynthian ridges Diana wheels the dance, while behind
her a thousand mountain nymphs crowd to left and right; she carries
quiver on shoulder, and as she moves outshines them all in deity;
Latona's heart is thrilled with silent joy; such was Dido, so she
joyously advanced amid the throng, urging on the business of her rising
empire. Then in the gates of the goddess, beneath the central vault of
the temple roof, she took her seat girt with arms and high enthroned.
And now she gave justice and laws to her people, and adjusted or
allotted their taskwork in due portion; when suddenly Aeneas sees
advancing with a great crowd about them Antheus and Sergestus and brave
Cloanthus, and other of his Trojans, whom the black squall had sundered
at sea and borne far away on the coast. Dizzy with the shock of joy and
fear he and Achates together were on fire with eagerness to clasp their
hands; but in confused uncertainty they keep hidden, and clothed in the
sheltering cloud wait to espy what fortune befalls them, where they are
leaving their fleet ashore, why they now come; for they advanced, chosen
men from all the ships, praying for grace, and held on with loud cries
towards the temple.

After they entered in, and free speech was granted, aged Ilioneus with
placid mien thus began:

'Queen, to whom Jupiter hath given to found this new city, and lay the
yoke of justice upon haughty tribes, we beseech thee, we wretched
Trojans storm-driven over all [525-559]the seas, stay the dreadful
flames from our ships; spare a guiltless race, and bend a gracious
regard on our fortunes. We are not come to deal slaughter through Libyan
homes, or to drive plundered spoils to the coast. Such violence sits not
in our mind, nor is a conquered people so insolent. There is a place
Greeks name Hesperia, an ancient land, mighty in arms and foison of the
clod; Oenotrian men dwelt therein; now rumour is that a younger race
from their captain's name have called it Italy. Thither lay our course
. . . when Orion rising on us through the cloudrack with sudden surf
bore us on blind shoals, and scattered us afar with his boisterous gales
and whelming brine over waves and trackless reefs. To these your coasts
we a scanty remnant floated up. What race of men, what land how
barbarous soever, allows such a custom for its own? We are debarred the
shelter of the beach; they rise in war, and forbid us to set foot on the
brink of their land. If you slight human kinship and mortal arms, yet
look for gods unforgetful of innocence and guilt. Aeneas was our king,
foremost of men in righteousness, incomparable in goodness as in warlike
arms; whom if fate still preserves, if he draws the breath of heaven and
lies not yet low in dispiteous gloom, fear we have none; nor mayest thou
repent of challenging the contest of service. In Sicilian territory too
is tilth and town, and famed Acestes himself of Trojan blood. Grant us
to draw ashore our storm-shattered fleet, to shape forest trees into
beams and strip them for oars; so, if to Italy we may steer with our
king and comrades found, Italy and Latium shall we gladly seek; but if
salvation is clean gone, if the Libyan gulf holds thee, dear lord of thy
Trojans, and Iulus our hope survives no more, seek we then at least the
straits of Sicily, the open homes whence we sailed hither, and Acestes
for our king. ' Thus Ilioneus, and all the Dardanian company
[560-593]murmured assent. . . . Then Dido, with downcast face, briefly
speaks:

'Cheer your anxious hearts, O Teucrians; put by your care. Hard fortune
in a strange realm forces me to this task, to keep watch and ward on my
wide frontiers. Who can be ignorant of the race of Aeneas' people, who
of Troy town and her men and deeds, or of the great war's consuming
fire? Not so dull are the hearts of our Punic wearing, not so far doth
the sun yoke his steeds from our Tyrian town. Whether your choice be
broad Hesperia, the fields of Saturn's dominion, or Eryx for your
country and Acestes for your king, my escort shall speed you in safety,
my arsenals supply your need. Or will you even find rest here with me
and share my kingdom? The city I establish is yours; draw your ships
ashore; Trojan and Tyrian shall be held by me in even balance. And would
that he your king, that Aeneas were here, storm-driven to this same
haven! But I will send messengers along the coast, and bid them trace
Libya to its limits, if haply he strays shipwrecked in forest or town. '

Stirred by these words brave Achates and lord Aeneas both ere now burned
to break through the cloud. Achates first accosts Aeneas: 'Goddess-born,
what purpose now rises in thy spirit? Thou seest all is safe, our fleet
and comrades are restored. One only is wanting, whom our eyes saw
whelmed amid the waves; all else is answerable to thy mother's words. '

Scarce had he spoken when the encircling cloud suddenly parts and melts
into clear air. Aeneas stood discovered in sheen of brilliant light,
like a god in face and shoulders; for his mother's self had shed on her
son the grace of clustered locks, the radiant light of youth, and the
lustre of joyous eyes; as when ivory takes beauty under the artist's
hand, or when silver or Parian stone is inlaid in gold. [594-625]Then
breaking in on all with unexpected speech he thus addresses the queen:

'I whom you seek am here before you, Aeneas of Troy, snatched from the
Libyan waves. O thou who alone hast pitied Troy's untold agonies, thou
who with us the remnant of the Grecian foe, worn out ere now by every
suffering land and sea can bring, with us in our utter want dost share
thy city and home! to render meet recompense is not possible for us, O
Dido, nor for all who scattered over the wide world are left of our
Dardanian race. The gods grant thee worthy reward, if their deity turn
any regard on goodness, if aught avails justice and conscious purity of
soul. What happy ages bore thee? what mighty parents gave thy virtue
birth? While rivers run into the sea, while the mountain shadows move
across their slopes, while the stars have pasturage in heaven, ever
shall thine honour, thy name and praises endure in the unknown lands
that summon me. ' With these words he advances his right hand to dear
Ilioneus, his left to Serestus; then to the rest, brave Gyas and brave
Cloanthus.

Dido the Sidonian stood astonished, first at the sight of him, then at
his strange fortunes; and these words left her lips:

'What fate follows thee, goddess-born, through perilous ways? what
violence lands thee on this monstrous coast? Art thou that Aeneas whom
Venus the bountiful bore to Dardanian Anchises by the wave of Phrygian
Simois? And well I remember how Teucer came to Sidon, when exiled from
his native land he sought Belus' aid to gain new realms; Belus my father
even then ravaged rich Cyprus and held it under his conquering sway.
From that time forth have I known the fall of the Trojan city, known thy
name and the Pelasgian princes. Their very foe would extol the Teucrians
with highest praises, and boasted himself a branch [626-661]of the
ancient Teucrian stem. Come therefore, O men, and enter our house. Me
too hath a like fortune driven through many a woe, and willed at last to
find my rest in this land. Not ignorant of ill do I learn to succour the
afflicted. '

With such speech she leads Aeneas into the royal house, and orders
sacrifice in the gods' temples. Therewith she sends his company on
the shore twenty bulls, an hundred great bristly-backed swine, an
hundred fat lambs and their mothers with them, gifts of the day's
gladness. . . . But the palace within is decked with splendour of royal
state, and a banquet made ready amid the halls. The coverings are
curiously wrought in splendid purple; on the tables is massy silver and
deeds of ancestral valour graven in gold, all the long course of history
drawn through many a heroic name from the nation's primal antiquity.

Aeneas--for a father's affection denied his spirit rest--sends Achates
speeding to his ships, to carry this news to Ascanius, and lead him to
the town: in Ascanius is fixed all the parent's loving care. Presents
likewise he bids him bring saved from the wreck of Ilium, a mantle stiff
with gold embroidery, and a veil with woven border of yellow
acanthus-flower, that once decked Helen of Argos, the marvel of her
mother Leda's giving; Helen had borne them from Mycenae, when she sought
Troy towers and a lawless bridal; the sceptre too that Ilione, Priam's
eldest daughter, once had worn, a beaded necklace, and a double circlet
of jewelled gold. Achates, hasting on his message, bent his way towards
the ships.

But in the Cytherean's breast new arts, new schemes revolve; if Cupid,
changed in form and feature, may come in sweet Ascanius' room, and his
gifts kindle the queen to madness and set her inmost sense aflame.
Verily she fears the uncertain house, the double-tongued race of Tyre;
[662-698]cruel Juno frets her, and at nightfall her care floods back.
Therefore to winged Love she speaks these words:

'Son, who art alone my strength and sovereignty, son, who scornest the
mighty father's Typhoian shafts, to thee I fly for succour, and sue
humbly to thy deity. How Aeneas thy brother is driven about all the
sea-coasts by bitter Juno's malignity, this thou knowest, and hast often
grieved in our grief. Now Dido the Phoenician holds him stayed with soft
words, and I tremble to think how the welcome of Juno's house may issue;
she will not be idle in this supreme turn of fortune. Wherefore I
counsel to prevent her wiles and circle the queen with flame, that,
unalterable by any deity, she may be held fast to me by passionate love
for Aeneas. Take now my thought how to do this. The boy prince, my
chiefest care, makes ready at his dear father's summons to go to the
Sidonian city, carrying gifts that survive the sea and the flames of
Troy. Him will I hide deep asleep in my holy habitation, high on
Cythera's hills or in Idalium, that he may not know nor cross our wiles.
Do thou but for one night feign his form, and, boy as thou art, put on
the familiar face of a boy; so when in festal cheer, amid royal dainties
and Bacchic juice, Dido shall take thee to her lap, shall fold thee in
her clasp and kiss thee close and sweet, thou mayest imbreathe a hidden
fire and unsuspected poison. '

Love obeys his dear mother's words, lays by his wings, and walks
rejoicingly with Iulus' tread. But Venus pours gentle dew of slumber on
Ascanius' limbs, and lifts him lulled in her lap to the tall Idalian
groves of her deity, where soft amaracus folds him round with the
shadowed sweetness of its odorous blossoms. And now, obedient to her
words, Cupid went merrily in Achates' guiding, with the royal gifts for
the Tyrians. Already at his coming the queen hath sate her down in the
midmost on her golden [699-733]throne under the splendid tapestries;
now lord Aeneas, now too the men of Troy gather, and all recline on the
strewn purple. Servants pour water on their hands, serve corn from
baskets, and bring napkins with close-cut pile. Fifty handmaids are
within, whose task is in their course to keep unfailing store and kindle
the household fire. An hundred others, and as many pages all of like
age, load the board with food and array the wine cups. Therewithal the
Tyrians are gathered full in the wide feasting chamber, and take their
appointed places on the broidered cushions. They marvel at Aeneas'
gifts, marvel at Iulus, at the god's face aflame and forged speech, at
the mantle and veil wrought with yellow acanthus-flower. Above all the
hapless Phoenician, victim to coming doom, cannot satiate her soul, but,
stirred alike by the boy and the gifts, she gazes and takes fire. He,
when hanging clasped on Aeneas' neck he had satisfied all the deluded
parent's love, makes his way to the queen; the queen clings to him with
her eyes and all her soul, and ever and anon fondles him in her lap, ah,
poor Dido! witless how mighty a deity sinks into her breast; but he,
mindful of his mother the Acidalian, begins touch by touch to efface
Sychaeus, and sows the surprise of a living love in the
long-since-unstirred spirit and disaccustomed heart. Soon as the noise
of banquet ceased and the board was cleared, they set down great bowls
and enwreathe the wine. The house is filled with hum of voices eddying
through the spacious chambers; lit lamps hang down by golden chainwork,
and flaming tapers expel the night. Now the queen called for a heavy cup
of jewelled gold, and filled it with pure wine; therewith was the use of
Belus and all of Belus' race: then the hall was silenced. 'Jupiter,' she
cries, 'for thou art reputed lawgiver of hospitality, grant that this be
a joyful day to the Tyrians and the voyagers from Troy, a day to live in
our children's memory. [734-756]Bacchus, the giver of gladness, be with
us, and Juno the bountiful; and you, O Tyrians, be favourable to our
assembly. ' She spoke, and poured liquid libation on the board, which
done, she first herself touched it lightly with her lips, then handed it
to Bitias and bade him speed; he valiantly drained the foaming cup, and
flooded him with the brimming gold. The other princes followed.
Long-haired Iopas on his gilded lyre fills the chamber with songs
ancient Atlas taught; he sings of the wandering moon and the sun's
travails; whence is the human race and the brute, whence water and fire;
of Arcturus, the rainy Hyades, and the twin Oxen; why wintry suns make
such haste to dip in ocean, or what delay makes the nights drag
lingeringly. Tyrians and Trojans after them redouble applause.
Therewithal Dido wore the night in changing talk, alas! and drank long
draughts of love, asking many a thing of Priam, many a thing of Hector;
now in what armour the son of the Morning came; now of what fashion were
Diomede's horses; now of mighty Achilles. 'Nay, come,' she cries, 'tell
to us, O guest, from their first beginning the treachery of the
Grecians, thy people's woes, and thine own wanderings; for this is now
the seventh summer that bears thee a wanderer over all the earth and
sea. '




BOOK SECOND

THE STORY OF THE SACK OF TROY


All were hushed, and sate with steadfast countenance; thereon, high from
his cushioned seat, lord Aeneas thus began:

'Dreadful, O Queen, is the woe thou bidst me recall, how the Grecians
pitiably overthrew the wealth and lordship of Troy; and I myself saw
these things in all their horror, and I bore great part in them. What
Myrmidon or Dolopian, or soldier of stern Ulysses, could in such a tale
restrain his tears! and now night falls dewy from the steep of heaven,
and the setting stars counsel to slumber. Yet if thy desire be such to
know our calamities, and briefly to hear Troy's last agony, though my
spirit shudders at the remembrance and recoils in pain, I will essay.

'Broken in war and beaten back by fate, and so many years now slid away,
the Grecian captains build by Pallas' divine craft a horse of
mountainous build, ribbed with sawn fir; they feign it vowed for their
return, and this rumour goes about. Within the blind sides they
stealthily imprison chosen men picked out one by one, and fill the vast
cavern of its womb full with armed soldiery.

'There lies in sight an island well known in fame, Tenedos, rich of
store while the realm of Priam endured, [23-55]now but a bay and
roadstead treacherous to ships. Hither they launch forth, and hide on
the solitary shore: we fancied they were gone, and had run down the wind
for Mycenae. So all the Teucrian land put her long grief away. The gates
are flung open; men go rejoicingly to see the Doric camp, the deserted
stations and abandoned shore. Here the Dolopian troops were tented, here
cruel Achilles; here their squadrons lay; here the lines were wont to
meet in battle. Some gaze astonished at the deadly gift of Minerva the
Virgin, and wonder at the horse's bulk; and Thymoetes begins to advise
that it be drawn within our walls and set in the citadel, whether in
guile, or that the doom of Troy was even now setting thus. But Capys and
they whose mind was of better counsel, bid us either hurl sheer into the
sea the guileful and sinister gift of Greece, or heap flames beneath to
consume it, or pierce and explore the hollow hiding-place of its womb.
The wavering crowd is torn apart in high dispute.

'At that, foremost of all and with a great throng about him, Laocoon
runs hotly down from the high citadel, and cries from far: "Ah, wretched
citizens, what height of madness is this? Believe you the foe is gone?
or think you any Grecian gift is free of treachery? is it thus we know
Ulysses? Either Achaeans are hid in this cage of wood, or the engine is
fashioned against our walls to overlook the houses and descend upon the
city; some delusion lurks there: trust not the horse, O Trojans. Be it
what it may, I fear the Grecians even when they offer gifts. " Thus
speaking, he hurled his mighty spear with great strength at the
creature's side and the curved framework of the belly: the spear stood
quivering, and the jarred cavern of the womb sounded hollow and uttered
a groan. And had divine ordinance, had a soul not infatuate been with
us, he had moved us to lay violent steel on the Argolic hiding place;
[56-90]and Troy would now stand, and you, tall towers of Priam, yet
abide.

'Lo, Dardanian shepherds meanwhile dragged clamorously before the King a
man with hands tied behind his back, who to compass this very thing, to
lay Troy open to the Achaeans, had gone to meet their ignorant approach,
confident in spirit and doubly prepared to spin his snares or to meet
assured death. From all sides, in eagerness to see, the people of Troy
run streaming in, and vie in jeers at their prisoner. Know now the
treachery of the Grecians, and from a single crime learn all. . . . For
as he stood amid our gaze confounded, disarmed, and cast his eyes around
the Phrygian columns, "Alas! " he cried, "what land now, what seas may
receive me? or what is the last doom that yet awaits my misery? who have
neither any place among the Grecians, and likewise the Dardanians
clamour in wrath for the forfeit of my blood. " At that lament our spirit
was changed, and all assault stayed: we encourage him to speak, and tell
of what blood he is sprung, or what assurance he brings his captors.

'"In all things assuredly," says he, "O King, befall what may, I will
confess to thee the truth; nor will I deny myself of Argolic birth--this
first--nor, if Fortune hath made Sinon unhappy, shall her malice mould
him to a cheat and a liar. Hath a tale of the name of Palamedes, son of
Belus, haply reached thine ears, and of his glorious rumour and renown;
whom under false evidence the Pelasgians, because he forbade the war,
sent innocent to death by wicked witness; now they bewail him when he
hath left the light;--in his company, being near of blood, my father,
poor as he was, sent me hither to arms from mine earliest years. While
he stood unshaken in royalty and potent in the councils of the kings, we
too wore a name and honour. When by subtle Ulysses' malice (no unknown
tale do I tell) [91-124]he left the upper regions, my shattered life
crept on in darkness and grief, inly indignant at the fate of my
innocent friend. Nor in my madness was I silent: and, should any chance
offer, did I ever return a conqueror to my native Argos, I vowed myself
his avenger, and with my words I stirred his bitter hatred. From this
came the first taint of ill; from this did Ulysses ever threaten me with
fresh charges, from this flung dark sayings among the crowd and sought
confederate arms. Nay, nor did he rest, till by Calchas' service--but
yet why do I vainly unroll the unavailing tale, or why hold you in
delay, if all Achaeans are ranked together in your mind, and it is
enough that I bear the name? Take the vengeance deferred; this the
Ithacan would desire, and the sons of Atreus buy at a great ransom. "

'Then indeed we press on to ask and inquire the cause, witless of
wickedness so great and Pelasgian craft.
Tremblingly the false-hearted
one pursues his speech:

'"Often would the Grecians have taken to flight, leaving Troy behind,
and disbanded in weariness of the long war: and would God they had! as
often the fierce sea-tempest barred their way, and the gale frightened
them from going. Most of all when this horse already stood framed with
beams of maple, storm clouds roared over all the sky. In perplexity we
send Eurypylus to inquire of Phoebus' oracle; and he brings back from
the sanctuary these words of terror: _With blood of a slain maiden, O
Grecians, you appeased the winds when first you came to the Ilian
coasts; with blood must you seek your return, and an Argive life be the
accepted sacrifice. _ When that utterance reached the ears of the crowd,
their hearts stood still, and a cold shudder ran through their inmost
sense: for whom is doom purposed? who is claimed of Apollo? At this the
Ithacan with loud clamour drags Calchas the soothsayer forth amidst
them, and demands of him what is this the gods signify. And now many an
one [125-158]foretold me the villain's craft and cruelty, and silently
saw what was to come. Twice five days he is speechless in his tent, and
will not have any one denounced by his lips, or given up to death.
Scarcely at last, at the loud urgence of the Ithacan, he breaks into
speech as was planned, and appoints me for the altar. All consented; and
each one's particular fear was turned, ah me! to my single destruction.
And now the dreadful day was at hand; the rites were being ordered for
me, the salted corn, and the chaplets to wreathe my temples. I broke
away, I confess it, from death; I burst my bonds, and lurked all night
darkling in the sedge of the marshy pool, till they might set their
sails, if haply they should set them. Nor have I any hope more of seeing
my old home nor my sweet children and the father whom I desire. Of them
will they even haply claim vengeance for my flight, and wash away this
crime in their wretched death. By the heavenly powers I beseech thee,
the deities to whom truth is known, by all the faith yet unsullied that
is anywhere left among mortals; pity woes so great; pity an undeserving
sufferer. "

'At these his tears we grant him life, and accord our pity. Priam
himself at once commands his shackles and strait bonds to be undone, and
thus speaks with kindly words: "Whoso thou art, now and henceforth
dismiss and forget the Greeks: thou shalt be ours. And unfold the truth
to this my question: wherefore have they reared this vast size of horse?
who is their counsellor? or what their aim? what propitiation, or what
engine of war is this? " He ended; the other, stored with the treacherous
craft of Pelasgia, lifts to heaven his freed hands. "You, everlasting
fires," he cries, "and your inviolable sanctity be my witness; you, O
altars and accursed swords I fled, and chaplets of the gods I wore as
victim! unblamed may I break the oath of Greek allegiance, unblamed hate
them and bring all to light that they [159-191]conceal; nor am I bound
by any laws of country. Do thou only keep by thy promise, O Troy, and
preserve faith with thy preserver, as my news shall be true, as my
recompense great.

'"All the hope of Greece, and the confidence in which the war began,
ever centred in Pallas' aid. But since the wicked son of Tydeus, and
Ulysses, forger of crime, made bold to tear the fated Palladium from her
sanctuary, and cut down the sentries on the towered height; since they
grasped the holy image, and dared with bloody hands to touch the maiden
chaplets of the goddess; since then the hope of Greece ebbed and slid
away backwards, their strength was broken, and the mind of the goddess
estranged. Whereof the Tritonian gave token by no uncertain signs.
Scarcely was the image set in the camp; flame shot sparkling from its
lifted eyes, and salt sweat started over its body; thrice, wonderful to
tell, it leapt from the ground with shield and spear quivering.
Immediately Calchas prophesies that the seas must be explored in flight,
nor may Troy towers be overthrown by Argive weapons, except they repeat
their auspices at Argos, and bring back that divine presence they have
borne away with them in the curved ships overseas. And now they have run
down the wind for their native Mycenae, to gather arms and gods to
attend them; they will remeasure ocean and be on you unawares. So
Calchas expounds the omens. This image at his warning they reared in
recompense for the Palladium and the injured deity, to expiate the
horror of sacrilege. Yet Calchas bade them raise it to this vast size
with oaken crossbeams, and build it up to heaven, that it may not find
entry at the gates nor be drawn within the city, nor protect your people
beneath the consecration of old. For if hand of yours should violate
Minerva's offering, then utter destruction (the gods turn rather on
himself his augury! ) should be upon Priam's empire and [192-226]the
Phrygian people. But if under your hands it climbed into your city, Asia
should advance in mighty war to the walls of Pelops, and a like fate
awaited our children's children. "

'So by Sinon's wiles and craft and perjury the thing gained belief; and
we were ensnared by treachery and forced tears, we whom neither the son
of Tydeus nor Achilles of Larissa, whom not ten years nor a thousand
ships brought down.

'Here another sight, greater, alas! and far more terrible meets us, and
alarms our thoughtless senses. Laocoon, allotted priest of Neptune, was
slaying a great bull at the accustomed altars. And lo! from Tenedos,
over the placid depths (I shudder as I recall) two snakes in enormous
coils press down the sea and advance together to the shore; their
breasts rise through the surge, and their blood-red crests overtop the
waves; the rest trails through the main behind and wreathes back in
voluminous curves; the brine gurgles and foams. And now they gained the
fields, while their bloodshot eyes blazed with fire, and their tongues
lapped and flickered in their hissing mouths. We scatter, pallid at the
sight. They in unfaltering train make towards Laocoon. And first the
serpents twine in their double embrace his two little children, and bite
deep in their wretched limbs; then him likewise, as he comes up to help
with arms in his hand, they seize and fasten in their enormous coils;
and now twice clasping his waist, twice encircling his neck with their
scaly bodies, they tower head and neck above him. He at once strains his
hands to tear their knots apart, his fillets spattered with foul black
venom; at once raises to heaven awful cries; as when, bellowing, a bull
shakes the wavering axe from his neck and runs wounded from the altar.
But the two snakes glide away to the high sanctuary and seek the fierce
Tritonian's citadel, [227-261]and take shelter under the goddess' feet
beneath the circle of her shield. Then indeed a strange terror thrills
in all our amazed breasts; and Laocoon, men say, hath fulfilled his
crime's desert, in piercing the consecrated wood and hurling his guilty
spear into its body. All cry out that the image must be drawn to its
home and supplication made to her deity. . . . We sunder the walls, and
lay open the inner city. All set to the work; they fix rolling wheels
under its feet, and tie hempen bands on its neck. The fated engine
climbs our walls, big with arms. Around it boys and unwedded girls chant
hymns and joyfully lay their hand on the rope. It moves up, and glides
menacing into the middle of the town. O native land! O Ilium, house of
gods, and Dardanian city renowned in war! four times in the very gateway
did it come to a stand, and four times armour rang in its womb. Yet we
urge it on, mindless and infatuate, and plant the ill-ominous thing in
our hallowed citadel. Even then Cassandra opens her lips to the coming
doom, lips at a god's bidding never believed by the Trojans. We, the
wretched people, to whom that day was our last, hang the shrines of the
gods with festal boughs throughout the city. Meanwhile the heavens wheel
on, and night rises from the sea, wrapping in her vast shadow earth and
sky and the wiles of the Myrmidons; about the town the Teucrians are
stretched in silence; slumber laps their tired limbs.

'And now the Argive squadron was sailing in order from Tenedos, and in
the favouring stillness of the quiet moon sought the shores it knew;
when the royal galley ran out a flame, and, protected by the gods'
malign decrees, Sinon stealthily lets loose the imprisoned Grecians from
their barriers of pine; the horse opens and restores them to the air;
and joyfully issuing from the hollow wood, Thessander and Sthenelus the
captains, and terrible Ulysses, [262-295]slide down the dangling rope,
with Acamas and Thoas and Neoptolemus son of Peleus, and Machaon first
of all, and Menelaus, and Epeus himself the artificer of the treachery.
They sweep down the city buried in drunken sleep; the watchmen are cut
down, and at the open gates they welcome all their comrades, and unite
their confederate bands.

'It was the time when by the gift of God rest comes stealing first and
sweetest on unhappy men. In slumber, lo! before mine eyes Hector seemed
to stand by, deep in grief and shedding abundant tears; torn by the
chariot, as once of old, and black with gory dust, his swoln feet
pierced with the thongs. Ah me! in what guise was he! how changed from
the Hector who returns from putting on Achilles' spoils, or launching
the fires of Phrygia on the Grecian ships! with ragged beard and tresses
clotted with blood, and all the many wounds upon him that he received
around his ancestral walls. Myself too weeping I seemed to accost him
ere he spoke, and utter forth mournful accents: "O light of Dardania, O
surest hope of the Trojans, what long delay is this hath held thee? from
what borders comest thou, Hector our desire? with what weary eyes we see
thee, after many deaths of thy kin, after divers woes of people and
city! What indignity hath marred thy serene visage? or why discern I
these wounds? " He replies naught, nor regards my idle questioning; but
heavily drawing a heart-deep groan, "Ah, fly, goddess-born," he says,
"and rescue thyself from these flames. The foe holds our walls; from her
high ridges Troy is toppling down. Thy country and Priam ask no more. If
Troy towers might be defended by strength of hand, this hand too had
been their defence. Troy commends to thee her holy things and household
gods; take them to accompany thy fate; seek for them a city, which,
after all the seas have known thy wanderings, thou shalt at last
establish in [296-327]might. " So speaks he, and carries forth in his
hands from their inner shrine the chaplets and strength of Vesta, and
the everlasting fire.

'Meanwhile the city is stirred with mingled agony; and more and more,
though my father Anchises' house lay deep withdrawn and screened by
trees, the noises grow clearer and the clash of armour swells. I shake
myself from sleep and mount over the sloping roof, and stand there with
ears attent: even as when flame catches a corn-field while south winds
are furious, or the racing torrent of a mountain stream sweeps the
fields, sweeps the smiling crops and labours of the oxen, and hurls the
forest with it headlong; the shepherd in witless amaze hears the roar
from the cliff-top. Then indeed proof is clear, and the treachery of the
Grecians opens out. Already the house of Deiphobus hath crashed down in
wide ruin amid the overpowering flames; already our neighbour Ucalegon
is ablaze: the broad Sigean bay is lit with the fire. Cries of men and
blare of trumpets rise up. Madly I seize my arms, nor is there so much
purpose in arms; but my spirit is on fire to gather a band for fighting
and charge for the citadel with my comrades. Fury and wrath drive me
headlong, and I think how noble is death in arms.

'And lo! Panthus, eluding the Achaean weapons, Panthus son of Othrys,
priest of Phoebus in the citadel, comes hurrying with the sacred vessels
and conquered gods and his little grandchild in his hand, and runs
distractedly towards my gates. "How stands the state, O Panthus? what
stronghold are we to occupy? " Scarcely had I said so, when groaning he
thus returns: "The crowning day is come, the irreversible time of the
Dardanian land. No more are we a Trojan people; Ilium and the great
glory of the Teucrians is no more. Angry Jupiter hath cast all into the
scale of Argos. The Grecians are lords of the burning [328-362]town.
The horse, standing high amid the city, pours forth armed men, and Sinon
scatters fire, insolent in victory. Some are at the wide-flung gates,
all the thousands that ever came from populous Mycenae. Others have
beset the narrow streets with lowered weapons; edge and glittering point
of steel stand drawn, ready for the slaughter; scarcely at the entry do
the guards of the gates essay battle, and hold out in the blind fight. "

'Heaven's will thus declared by the son of Othrys drives me amid flames
and arms, where the baleful Fury calls, and tumult of shouting rises up.
Rhipeus and Epytus, most mighty in arms, join company with me; Hypanis
and Dymas meet us in the moonlight and attach themselves to our side,
and young Coroebus son of Mygdon. In those days it was he had come to
Troy, fired with mad passion for Cassandra, and bore a son's aid to
Priam and the Phrygians: hapless, that he listened not to his raving
bride's counsels. . . . Seeing them close-ranked and daring for battle,
I therewith began thus: "Men, hearts of supreme and useless bravery, if
your desire be fixed to follow one who dares the utmost; you see what is
the fortune of our state: all the gods by whom this empire was upheld
have gone forth, abandoning shrine and altar; your aid comes to a
burning city. Let us die, and rush on their encircling weapons. The
conquered have one safety, to hope for none. "

'So their spirit is heightened to fury. Then, like wolves ravening in a
black fog, whom mad malice of hunger hath driven blindly forth, and
their cubs left behind await with throats unslaked; through the weapons
of the enemy we march to certain death, and hold our way straight into
the town. Night's sheltering shadow flutters dark around us. Who may
unfold in speech that night's horror and death-agony, or measure its
woes in weeping? The [363-397]ancient city falls with her long years of
sovereignty; corpses lie stretched stiff all about the streets and
houses and awful courts of the gods. Nor do Teucrians alone pay forfeit
of their blood; once and again valour returns even in conquered hearts,
and the victorious Grecians fall. Everywhere is cruel agony, everywhere
terror, and the sight of death at every turn.

'First, with a great troop of Grecians attending him, Androgeus meets
us, taking us in ignorance for an allied band, and opens on us with
friendly words: "Hasten, my men; why idly linger so late? others plunder
and harry the burning citadel; are you but now on your march from the
tall ships? " He spoke, and immediately (for no answer of any assurance
was offered) knew he was fallen among the foe. In amazement, he checked
foot and voice; even as one who struggling through rough briers hath
trodden a snake on the ground unwarned, and suddenly shrinks fluttering
back as it rises in anger and puffs its green throat out; even thus
Androgeus drew away, startled at the sight. We rush in and encircle them
with serried arms, and cut them down dispersedly in their ignorance of
the ground and seizure of panic. Fortune speeds our first labour. And
here Coroebus, flushed with success and spirit, cries: "O comrades,
follow me where fortune points before us the path of safety, and shews
her favour. Let us exchange shields, and accoutre ourselves in Grecian
suits; whether craft or courage, who will ask of an enemy? the foe shall
arm our hands. " Thus speaking, he next dons the plumed helmet and
beautifully blazoned shield of Androgeus, and fits the Argive sword to
his side. So does Rhipeus, so Dymas in like wise, and all our men in
delight arm themselves one by one in the fresh spoils. We advance,
mingling with the Grecians, under a protection not our own, and join
many a battle [398-432]with those we meet amid the blind night; many a
Greek we send down to hell. Some scatter to the ships and run for the
safety of the shore; some in craven fear again climb the huge horse, and
hide in the belly they knew. Alas that none may trust at all to
estranged gods!

'Lo! Cassandra, maiden daughter of Priam, was being dragged with
disordered tresses from the temple and sanctuary of Minerva, straining
to heaven her blazing eyes in vain; her eyes, for fetters locked her
delicate hands. At this sight Coroebus burst forth infuriate, and flung
himself on death amid their columns. We all follow him up, and charge
with massed arms. Here first from the high temple roof we are
overwhelmed with our own people's weapons, and a most pitiful slaughter
begins through the fashion of our armour and the mistaken Greek crests;
then the Grecians, with angry cries at the maiden's rescue, gather from
every side and fall on us; Ajax in all his valour, and the two sons of
Atreus, and the whole Dolopian army: as oft when bursting in whirlwind
West and South clash with adverse blasts, and the East wind exultant on
the coursers of the Dawn; the forests cry, and fierce in foam Nereus
with his trident stirs the seas from their lowest depth. Those too
appear, whom our stratagem routed through the darkness of dim night and
drove all about the town; at once they know the shields and lying
weapons, and mark the alien tone on our lips. We go down, overwhelmed by
numbers. First Coroebus is stretched by Peneleus' hand at the altar of
the goddess armipotent; and Rhipeus falls, the one man who was most
righteous and steadfast in justice among the Teucrians: the gods' ways
are not as ours: Hypanis and Dymas perish, pierced by friendly hands;
nor did all thy goodness, O Panthus, nor Apollo's fillet protect thy
fall. O ashes of Ilium and death flames of my people! you I call to
witness that in your ruin I [433-465]shunned no Grecian weapon or
encounter, and my hand earned my fall, had destiny been thus. We tear
ourselves away, I and Iphitus and Pelias, Iphitus now stricken in age,
Pelias halting too under the wound of Ulysses, called forward by the
clamour to Priam's house.

'Here indeed the battle is fiercest, as if all the rest of the fighting
were nowhere, and no slaughter but here throughout the city, so do we
descry the war in full fury, the Grecians rushing on the building, and
their shielded column driving up against the beleaguered threshold.
Ladders cling to the walls; and hard by the doors and planted on the
rungs they hold up their shields in the left hand to ward off our
weapons, and with their right clutch the battlements. The Dardanians
tear down turrets and the covering of the house roof against them; with
these for weapons, since they see the end is come, they prepare to
defend themselves even in death's extremity: and hurl down gilded beams,
the stately decorations of their fathers of old. Others with drawn
swords have beset the doorway below and keep it in crowded column. We
renew our courage, to aid the royal dwelling, to support them with our
succour, and swell the force of the conquered.

'There was a blind doorway giving passage through the range of Priam's
halls by a solitary postern, whereby, while our realm endured, hapless
Andromache would often and often glide unattended to her father-in-law's
house, and carry the boy Astyanax to his grandsire. I issue out on the
sloping height of the ridge, whence wretched Teucrian hands were hurling
their ineffectual weapons. A tower stood on the sheer brink, its roof
ascending high into heaven, whence was wont to be seen all Troy and the
Grecian ships and Achaean camp: attacking it with iron round about,
where the joints of the lofty flooring yielded, we wrench it from its
deep foundations and shake it free; it gives way, and [466-498]suddenly
falls thundering in ruin, crashing wide over the Grecian ranks. But
others swarm up; nor meanwhile do stones nor any sort of missile
slacken. . . . Right before the vestibule and in the front doorway
Pyrrhus moves rejoicingly in the sparkle of arms and gleaming brass:
like as when a snake fed on poisonous herbs, whom chill winter kept hid
and swollen underground, now fresh from his weeds outworn and shining in
youth, wreathes his slippery body into the daylight, his upreared breast
meets the sun, and his triple-cloven tongue flickers in his mouth. With
him huge Periphas, and Automedon the armour-bearer, driver of Achilles'
horses, with him all his Scyrian men climb the roof and hurl flames on
the housetop. Himself among the foremost he grasps a poleaxe, bursts
through the hard doorway, and wrenches the brazen-plated doors from the
hinge; and now he hath cut out a plank from the solid oak and pierced a
vast gaping hole. The house within is open to sight, and the long halls
lie plain; open to sight are the secret chambers of Priam and the kings
of old, and they see armed men standing in front of the doorway.

'But the inner house is stirred with shrieks and misery and confusion,
and the court echoes deep with women's wailing; the golden stars are
smitten with the din. Affrighted mothers stray about the vast house, and
cling fast to the doors and print them with kisses. With his father's
might Pyrrhus presses on; nor guards nor barriers can hold out. The gate
totters under the hard driven ram, and the doors fall flat, rent from
the hinge. Force makes way; the Greeks burst through the entrance and
pour in, slaughtering the foremost, and filling the space with a wide
stream of soldiers. Not so furiously when a foaming river bursts his
banks and overflows, beating down the opposing dykes with whirling
water, is he borne mounded over the fields, and sweeps herds and
[499-529]pens all about the plains. Myself I saw in the gateway
Neoptolemus mad in slaughter, and the two sons of Atreus, saw Hecuba and
the hundred daughters of her house, and Priam polluting with his blood
the altar fires of his own consecration. The fifty bridal chambers--so
great was the hope of his children's children--their doors magnificent
with spoils of barbaric gold, have sunk in ruin; where the fire fails
the Greeks are in possession.

'Perchance too thou mayest inquire what was Priam's fate. When he saw
the ruin of his captured city, the gates of his house burst open, and
the enemy amid his innermost chambers, the old man idly fastens round
his aged trembling shoulders his long disused armour, girds on the
unavailing sword, and advances on his death among the thronging foe.

'Within the palace and under the bare cope of sky was a massive altar,
and hard on the altar an ancient bay tree leaned clasping the household
gods in its shadow. Here Hecuba and her daughters crowded vainly about
the altar-stones, like doves driven headlong by a black tempest, and
crouched clasping the gods' images. And when she saw Priam her lord with
the armour of youth on him, "What spirit of madness, my poor husband,"
she cries, "hath stirred thee to gird on these weapons? or whither dost
thou run? Not such the succour nor these the defenders the time
requires: no, were mine own Hector now beside us. Retire, I beseech
thee, hither; this altar will protect us all, or thou wilt share our
death. " With these words on her lips she drew the aged man to her, and
set him on the holy seat.

'And lo, escaped from slaughtering Pyrrhus through the weapons of the
enemy, Polites, one of Priam's children, flies wounded down the long
colonnades and circles the empty halls. Pyrrhus pursues him fiercely
with aimed [530-563]wound, just catching at him, and follows hard on
him with his spear. As at last he issued before his parents' eyes and
faces, he fell, and shed his life in a pool of blood. At this Priam,
although even now fast in the toils of death, yet withheld not nor
spared a wrathful cry: "Ah, for thy crime, for this thy hardihood, may
the gods, if there is goodness in heaven to care for aught such, pay
thee in full thy worthy meed, and return thee the reward that is due!
who hast made me look face to face on my child's murder, and polluted a
father's countenance with death. Ah, not such to a foe was the Achilles
whose parentage thou beliest; but he revered a suppliant's right and
trust, restored to the tomb Hector's pallid corpse, and sent me back to
my realm. " Thus the old man spoke, and launched his weak and unwounding
spear, which, recoiling straight from the jarring brass, hung idly from
his shield above the boss. Thereat Pyrrhus: "Thou then shalt tell this,
and go with the message to my sire the son of Peleus: remember to tell
him of my baleful deeds, and the degeneracy of Neoptolemus. Now die. " So
saying, he drew him quivering to the very altar, slipping in the pool of
his child's blood, and wound his left hand in his hair, while in his
right the sword flashed out and plunged to the hilt in his side. This
was the end of Priam's fortunes; thus did allotted fate find him, with
burning Troy and her sunken towers before his eyes, once magnificent
lord over so many peoples and lands of Asia. The great corpse lies along
the shore, a head severed from the shoulders and a body without a name.

'But then an awful terror began to encircle me; I stood in amaze; there
rose before me the likeness of my loved father, as I saw the king, old
as he, sobbing out his life under the ghastly wound; there rose Creusa
forlorn, my plundered house, and little Iulus' peril. I look back
[564-596]and survey what force is around me. All, outwearied, have
given up and leapt headlong to the ground, or flung themselves
wretchedly into the fire:

['Yes, and now I only was left; when I espy the daughter of Tyndarus
close in the courts of Vesta, crouching silently in the fane's recesses;
the bright glow of the fires lights my wandering, as my eyes stray all
about. Fearing the Teucrians' anger for the overthrown towers of Troy,
and the Grecians' vengeance and the wrath of the husband she had
abandoned, she, the common Fury of Troy and her native country, had
hidden herself and cowered unseen by the altars. My spirit kindles to
fire, and rises in wrath to avenge my dying land and take repayment for
her crimes. Shall she verily see Sparta and her native Mycenae
unscathed, and depart a queen and triumphant? Shall she see her spousal
and her home, her parents and children, attended by a crowd of Trojan
women and Phrygians to serve her? and Priam have fallen under the sword?
Troy blazed in fire?