No More Learning

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? the shore of Dardania so often soaked with blood?
Not so. For though there is no name or fame in a woman's punishment, nor
honour in the victory, yet shall I have praise in quenching a guilty
life and exacting a just recompense; and it will be good to fill my soul
with the flame of vengeance, and satisfy the ashes of my people. Thus
broke I forth, and advanced infuriate;]

'----When my mother came visibly before me, clear to sight as never till
then, and shone forth in pure radiance through the night, gracious,
evident in godhead, in shape and stature such as she is wont to appear
to the heavenly people; she caught me by the hand and stayed me, and
pursued thus with roseate lips:

'"Son, what overmastering pain thus wakes thy wrath? Why ravest thou? or
whither is thy care for us fled? Wilt thou not first look to it, where
thou hast left Anchises, [597-630]thine aged worn father; or if Creusa
thy wife and the child Ascanius survive? round about whom all the Greek
battalions range; and without my preventing care, the flames ere this
had made them their portion, and the hostile sword drunk their blood.
Not the hated face of the Laconian woman, Tyndarus' daughter; not Paris
is to blame; the gods, the gods in anger overturn this magnificence, and
make Troy topple down. Look, for all the cloud that now veils thy gaze
and dulls mortal vision with damp encircling mist, I will rend from
before thee. Fear thou no commands of thy mother, nor refuse to obey her
counsels. Here, where thou seest sundered piles of masonry and rocks
violently torn from rocks, and smoke eddying mixed with dust, Neptune
with his great trident shakes wall and foundation out of their places,
and upturns all the city from her base. Here Juno in all her terror
holds the Scaean gates at the entry, and, girt with steel, calls her
allied army furiously from their ships. . . . Even now on the citadel's
height, look back! Tritonian Pallas is planted in glittering halo and
Gorgonian terror. Their lord himself pours courage and prosperous
strength on the Grecians, himself stirs the gods against the arms of
Dardania. Haste away, O son, and put an end to the struggle. I will
never desert thee; I will set thee safe in the courts of thy father's
house. "

'She ended, and plunged in the dense blackness of the night. Awful faces
shine forth, and, set against Troy, divine majesties . . .

'Then indeed I saw all Ilium sinking in flame, and Neptunian Troy
uprooted from her base: even as an ancient ash on the mountain heights,
hacked all about with steel and fast-falling axes, when husbandmen
emulously strain to cut it down: it hangs threateningly, with shaken top
and quivering tresses asway; till gradually, overmastered with
[631-662]wounds, it utters one last groan, and rending itself away,
falls in ruin along the ridge. I descend, and under a god's guidance
clear my way between foe and flame; weapons give ground before me, and
flames retire.

'And now, when I have reached the courts of my ancestral dwelling, our
home of old, my father, whom it was my first desire to carry high into
the hills, and whom first I sought, declines, now Troy is rooted out, to
prolong his life through the pains of exile.

'"Ah, you," he cries, "whose blood is at the prime, whose strength
stands firm in native vigour, do you take your flight. . . . Had the
lords of heaven willed to prolong life for me, they should have
preserved this my home. Enough and more is the one desolation we have
seen, survivors of a captured city. Thus, oh thus salute me and depart,
as a body laid out for burial. Mine own hand shall find me death: the
foe will be merciful and seek my spoils: light is the loss of a tomb.
This long time hated of heaven, I uselessly delay the years, since the
father of gods and king of men blasted me with wind of thunder and
scathe of flame. "

'Thus held he on in utterance, and remained obstinate. We press him,
dissolved in tears, my wife Creusa, Ascanius, all our household, that
our father involve us not all in his ruin, and add his weight to the
sinking scale of doom. He refuses, and keeps seated steadfast in his
purpose. Again I rush to battle, and choose death in my misery. For what
had counsel or chance yet to give? Thoughtest thou my feet, O father,
could retire and abandon thee? and fell so unnatural words from a
parent's lips? "If heaven wills that naught be left of our mighty city,
if this be thy planted purpose, thy pleasure to cast in thyself and
thine to the doom of Troy; for this death indeed the gate is wide, and
even now Pyrrhus will be here newly bathed in Priam's [663-695]blood,
Pyrrhus who slaughters the son before the father's face, the father upon
his altars. For this was it, bountiful mother, thou dost rescue me amid
fire and sword, to see the foe in my inmost chambers, and Ascanius and
my father, Creusa by their side, hewn down in one another's blood? My
arms, men, bring my arms! the last day calls on the conquered. Return me
to the Greeks; let me revisit and renew the fight. Never to-day shall we
all perish unavenged. "

'Thereat I again gird on my sword, and fitting my left arm into the
clasps of the shield, strode forth of the palace. And lo! my wife clung
round my feet on the threshold, and held little Iulus up to his father's
sight. "If thou goest to die, let us too hurry with thee to the end. But
if thou knowest any hope to place in arms, be this household thy first
defence. To what is little Iulus and thy father, to what am I left who
once was called thy wife? "

'So she shrieked, and filled all the house with her weeping; when a sign
arises sudden and marvellous to tell. For, between the hands and before
the faces of his sorrowing parents, lo! above Iulus' head there seemed
to stream a light luminous cone, and a flame whose touch hurt not to
flicker in his soft hair and play round his brows. We in a flutter of
affright shook out the blazing hair and quenched the holy fires with
spring water. But lord Anchises joyfully upraised his eyes; and
stretching his hands to heaven: "Jupiter omnipotent," he cries, "if thou
dost relent at any prayers, look on us this once alone; and if our
goodness deserve it, give thine aid hereafter, O lord, and confirm this
thine omen. "

'Scarcely had the aged man spoken thus, when with sudden crash it
thundered on the left, and a star gliding through the dusk shot from
heaven drawing a bright trail of light. We watch it slide over the
palace roof, leaving [696-730]the mark of its pathway, and bury its
brilliance in the wood of Ida; the long drawn track shines, and the
region all about fumes with sulphur.
Then conquered indeed my father
rises to address the gods and worship the holy star. "Now, now delay is
done with: I follow, and where you lead, I come. Gods of my fathers,
save my house, save my grandchild. Yours is this omen, and in your deity
Troy stands. I yield, O my son, and refuse not to go in thy company. "

'He ended; and now more loudly the fire roars along the city, and the
burning tides roll nearer. "Up then, beloved father, and lean on my
neck; these shoulders of mine will sustain thee, nor will so dear a
burden weigh me down. Howsoever fortune fall, one and undivided shall be
our peril, one the escape of us twain. Little Iulus shall go along with
me, and my wife follow our steps afar. You of my household, give heed to
what I say. As you leave the city there is a mound and ancient temple of
Ceres lonely on it, and hard by an aged cypress, guarded many years in
ancestral awe: to this resting-place let us gather from diverse
quarters. Thou, O father, take the sacred things and the household gods
of our ancestors in thine hand. For me, just parted from the desperate
battle, with slaughter fresh upon me, to handle them were guilt, until I
wash away in a living stream the soilure. . . . " So spoke I, and spread
over my neck and broad shoulders a tawny lion-skin for covering, and
stoop to my burden. Little Iulus, with his hand fast in mine, keeps
uneven pace after his father. Behind my wife follows. We pass on in the
shadows. And I, lately moved by no weapons launched against me, nor by
the thronging bands of my Grecian foes, am now terrified at every
breath, startled by every noise, thrilling with fear alike for my
companion and my burden.

'And now I was nearing the gates, and thought I had [731-764]outsped
all the way; when suddenly the crowded trampling of feet came to our
ears, and my father, looking forth into the darkness, cries: "My son, my
son, fly; they draw near. I espy the gleaming shields and the flicker of
brass. " At this, in my flurry and confusion, some hostile god bereft me
of my senses. For while I plunge down byways, and swerve from where the
familiar streets ran, Creusa, alas! whether, torn by fate from her
unhappy husband, she stood still, or did she mistake the way, or sink
down outwearied? I know not; and never again was she given back to our
eyes; nor did I turn to look for my lost one, or cast back a thought,
ere we were come to ancient Ceres' mound and hallowed seat; here at
last, when all gathered, one was missing, vanished from her child's and
her husband's company. What man or god did I spare in frantic
reproaches? or what crueller sight met me in our city's overthrow? I
charge my comrades with Ascanius and lord Anchises, and the gods of
Teucria, hiding them in the winding vale. Myself I regain the city,
girding on my shining armour; fixed to renew every danger, to retrace my
way throughout Troy, and fling myself again on its perils. First of all
I regain the walls and the dim gateway whence my steps had issued; I
scan and follow back my footprints with searching gaze in the night.
Everywhere my spirit shudders, dismayed at the very silence. Thence I
pass on home, if haply her feet (if haply! ) had led her thither. The
Grecians had poured in, and filled the palace. The devouring fire goes
rolling before the wind high as the roof; the flames tower over it, and
the heat surges up into the air. I move on, and revisit the citadel and
Priam's dwelling; where now in the spacious porticoes of Juno's
sanctuary, Phoenix and accursed Ulysses, chosen sentries, were guarding
the spoil. Hither from all quarters is flung in masses the treasure of
Troy torn from burning shrines, [765-798]tables of the gods, bowls of
solid gold, and raiment of the captives. Boys and cowering mothers in
long file stand round. . . . Yes, and I dared to cry abroad through the
darkness; I filled the streets with calling, and again and yet again
with vain reiterance cried piteously on Creusa. As I stormed and sought
her endlessly among the houses of the town, there rose before mine eyes
a melancholy phantom, the ghost of very Creusa, in likeness larger than
her wont. I was motionless; my hair stood up, and the accents faltered
on my tongue. Then she thus addressed me, and with this speech allayed
my distresses: "What help is there in this mad passion of grief, sweet
my husband? not without divine influence does this come to pass: nor may
it be, nor does the high lord of Olympus allow, that thou shouldest
carry Creusa hence in thy company. Long shall be thine exile, and weary
spaces of sea must thou furrow through; and thou shalt come to the land
Hesperia, where Lydian Tiber flows with soft current through rich and
populous fields. There prosperity awaits thee, and a kingdom, and a
king's daughter for thy wife. Dispel these tears for thy beloved Creusa.
Never will I look on the proud homes of the Myrmidons or Dolopians, or
go to be the slave of Greek matrons, I a daughter of Dardania, a
daughter-in-law of Venus the goddess. . . . But the mighty mother of the
gods keeps me in these her borders. And now farewell, and still love thy
child and mine. " This speech uttered, while I wept and would have said
many a thing, she left me and retreated into thin air. Thrice there was
I fain to lay mine arms round her neck; thrice the vision I vainly
clasped fled out of my hands, even as the light breezes, or most like to
fluttering sleep. So at last, when night is spent, I revisit my
comrades.

'And here I find a marvellous great company, newly flocked in, mothers
and men, a people gathered for exile, [799-804]a pitiable crowd. From
all quarters they are assembled, ready in heart and fortune, to
whatsoever land I will conduct them overseas. And now the morning star
rose over the high ridges of Ida, and led on the day; and the Grecians
held the gateways in leaguer, nor was any hope of help given. I
withdrew, and raising my father up, I sought the mountain. '




BOOK THIRD

THE STORY OF THE SEVEN YEARS' WANDERING


'After heaven's lords pleased to overthrow the state of Asia and Priam's
guiltless people, and proud Ilium fell, and Neptunian Troy smokes all
along the ground, we are driven by divine omens to seek distant places
of exile in waste lands. Right under Antandros and the mountains of
Phrygian Ida we build a fleet, uncertain whither the fates carry us or
where a resting-place is given, and gather the people together. Scarcely
had the first summer set in, when lord Anchises bids us spread our sails
to fortune, and weeping I leave the shores and havens of my country, and
the plains where once was Troy. I sail to sea an exile, with my comrades
and son and the gods of household and state.

'A land of vast plains lies apart, the home of Mavors, in Thracian
tillage, and sometime under warrior Lycurgus' reign; friendly of old to
Troy, and their gods in alliance while our fortune lasted. Hither I
pass, and on the winding shore I lay under thwarting fates the first
foundations of a city, and from my own name fashion its name, Aeneadae.

'I was paying sacrifice to my mother, daughter of Dione, and to all the
gods, so to favour the work begun, and slew a shining bull on the shore
to the high lord of [22-54]the heavenly people. Haply there lay a mound
hard at hand, crowned with cornel thickets and bristling dense with
shafts of myrtle. I drew near; and essaying to tear up the green wood
from the soil, that I might cover the altar with leafy boughs, I see a
portent ominous and wonderful to tell. For from the first tree whose
roots are rent away and broken from the ground, drops of black blood
trickle, and gore stains the earth. An icy shudder shakes my limbs, and
my blood curdles chill with terror. Yet from another I go on again to
tear away a tough shoot, fully to fathom its secret; yet from another
black blood follows out of the bark. With many searchings of heart I
prayed the woodland nymphs, and lord Gradivus, who rules in the Getic
fields, to make the sight propitious as was meet and lighten the omen.
But when I assail a third spearshaft with a stronger effort, pulling
with knees pressed against the sand; shall I speak or be silent? from
beneath the mound is heard a pitiable moan, and a voice is uttered to my
ears: "Woe's me, why rendest thou me, Aeneas? spare me at last in the
tomb, spare pollution to thine innocent hands. Troy bore me; not alien
to thee am I, nor this blood that oozes from the stem. Ah, fly the cruel
land, fly the greedy shore! For I am Polydorus; here the iron harvest of
weapons hath covered my pierced body, and shot up in sharp javelins. "
Then indeed, borne down with dubious terror, I was motionless, my hair
stood up, and the accents faltered on my tongue.

'This Polydorus once with great weight of gold had hapless Priam sent in
secret to the nurture of the Thracian king, when now he was losing trust
in the arms of Dardania, and saw his city leaguered round about. The
king, when the Teucrian power was broken and fortune withdrew, following
Agamemnon's estate and triumphant arms, [55-87]severs every bond of
duty; murders Polydorus, and lays strong hands on the gold. O accursed
hunger of gold, to what dost thou not compel human hearts! When the
terror left my senses, I lay the divine tokens before the chosen princes
of the people, with my father at their head, and demand their judgment.
All are of one mind, to leave the guilty land, and abandoning a polluted
home, to let the gales waft our fleets. So we bury Polydorus anew, and
the earth is heaped high over his mound; altars are reared to his ghost,
sad with dusky chaplets and black cypress; and around are the Ilian
women with hair unbound in their fashion. We offer bubbling bowls of
warm milk and cups of consecrated blood, and lay the spirit to rest in
her tomb, and with loud voice utter the last call.

'Thereupon, so soon as ocean may be trusted, and the winds leave the
seas in quiet, and the soft whispering south wind calls seaward, my
comrades launch their ships and crowd the shores. We put out from
harbour, and lands and towns sink away. There lies in mid sea a holy
land, most dear to the mother of the Nereids and Neptune of Aegae, which
strayed about coast and strand till the Archer god in his affection
chained it fast from high Myconos and Gyaros, and made it lie immoveable
and slight the winds. Hither I steer; and it welcomes my weary crew to
the quiet shelter of a safe haven. We disembark and worship Apollo's
town. Anius the king, king at once of the people and priest of Phoebus,
his brows garlanded with fillets and consecrated laurel, comes to meet
us; he knows Anchises, his friend of old; we clasp hands in welcome, and
enter his palace. I worshipped the god's temple, an ancient pile of
stone. "Lord of Thymbra, give us an enduring dwelling-place; grant a
house and family to thy weary servants, and a city to abide: keep Troy's
second fortress, the remnant left of the Grecians and merciless
Achilles. Whom follow [88-121]we? or whither dost thou bid us go, where
fix our seat? Grant an omen, O lord, and inspire our minds. "

'Scarcely had I spoken thus; suddenly all seemed to shake, all the
courts and laurels of the god, the whole hill to be stirred round about,
and the cauldron to moan in the opening sanctuary. We sink low on the
ground, and a voice is borne to our ears: "Stubborn race of Dardanus,
the same land that bore you by parentage of old shall receive you again
on her bountiful breast. Seek out your ancient mother; hence shall the
house of Aeneas sway all regions, his children's children and they who
shall be born of them. " Thus Phoebus; and mingled outcries of great
gladness uprose; all ask, what is that city? whither calls Phoebus our
wandering, and bids us return? Then my father, unrolling the records of
men of old, "Hear, O princes," says he, "and learn your hopes. In mid
ocean lies Crete, the island of high Jove, wherein is mount Ida, the
cradle of our race. An hundred great towns are inhabited in that opulent
realm; from it our forefather Teucer of old, if I recall the tale
aright, sailed to the Rhoetean coasts and chose a place for his kingdom.
Not yet was Ilium nor the towers of Pergama reared; they dwelt in the
valley bottoms. Hence came our Lady, haunter of Cybele, the Corybantic
cymbals and the grove of Ida; hence the rites of inviolate secrecy, and
the lions yoked under the chariot of their mistress. Up then, and let us
follow where divine commandments lead; let us appease the winds, and
seek the realm of Gnosus. Nor is it a far journey away. Only be Jupiter
favourable, the third day shall bring our fleet to anchor on the Cretan
coast. " So spoke he, and slew fit sacrifice on the altars, a bull to
Neptune, a bull to thee, fair Apollo, a black sheep to Tempest, a white
to the prosperous West winds.

'Rumour flies that Idomeneus the captain is driven [122-154]forth of
his father's realm, and the shores of Crete are abandoned, that the
houses are void of foes and the dwellings lie empty to our hand. We
leave the harbour of Ortygia, and fly along the main, by the revel-trod
ridges of Naxos, by green Donusa, Olearos and snow-white Paros, and the
sea-strewn Cyclades, threading the racing channels among the crowded
lands. The seamen's clamour rises in emulous dissonance; each cheers his
comrade: _Seek we Crete and our forefathers. _ A wind rising astern
follows us forth on our way, and we glide at last to the ancient
Curetean coast. So I set eagerly to work on the walls of my chosen town,
and call it Pergamea, and exhort my people, joyful at the name, to
cherish their homes and rear the castle buildings. And even now the
ships were drawn up on the dry beach; the people were busy in marriages
and among their new fields; I was giving statutes and homesteads; when
suddenly from a tainted space of sky came, noisome on men's bodies and
pitiable on trees and crops, pestilence and a year of death. They left
their sweet lives or dragged themselves on in misery; Sirius scorched
the fields into barrenness; the herbage grew dry, and the sickly harvest
denied sustenance. My father counsels to remeasure the sea and go again
to Phoebus in his Ortygian oracle, to pray for grace and ask what issue
he ordains to our exhausted state; whence he bids us search for aid to
our woes, whither bend our course.

'Night fell, and sleep held all things living on the earth. The sacred
images of the gods and the household deities of Phrygia, that I had
borne with me from Troy out of the midst of the burning city, seemed to
stand before mine eyes as I lay sleepless, clear in the broad light
where the full moon poured through the latticed windows; then thus
addressed me, and with this speech allayed my distresses: "What Apollo
hath to tell thee when thou dost [155-188]reach Ortygia, he utters
here, and sends us unsought to thy threshold. We who followed thee and
thine arms when Dardania went down in fire; we who under thee have
traversed on shipboard the swelling sea; we in like wise will exalt to
heaven thy children to be, and give empire to their city. Do thou
prepare a mighty town for a mighty people, nor draw back from the long
wearisome chase. Thou must change thy dwelling. Not to these shores did
the god at Delos counsel thee, or Apollo bid thee find rest in Crete.
There is a region Greeks name Hesperia, an ancient land, mighty in arms
and foison of the clod; Oenotrian men dwell therein; now rumour is that
a younger race have called it Italy after their captain's name. This is
our true dwelling place; hence is Dardanus sprung, and lord Iasius, the
first source of our race. Up, arise, and tell with good cheer to thine
aged parent this plain tale, to seek Corythus and the lands of Ausonia.
Jupiter denies thee the Dictaean fields. "

'Astonished at this vision and divine utterance (nor was that slumber;
but openly I seemed to know their countenances, their veiled hair and
gracious faces, and therewith a cold sweat broke out all over me) I
spring from my bed and raise my voice and upturned hands skyward and pay
pure offering on the hearth. The sacrifice done, I joyfully tell
Anchises, and relate all in order. He recognises the double descent and
twofold parentage, and the later wanderings that had deceived him among
ancient lands. Then he speaks: "O son, hard wrought by the destinies of
Ilium, Cassandra only foretold me this fortune. Now I recall how she
prophesied this was fated to our race, and often cried of Hesperia,
often of an Italian realm. But who was to believe that Teucrians should
come to Hesperian shores? or whom might Cassandra then move by prophecy?
Yield we to Phoebus, and follow the better [189-222]way he counsels. "
So says he, and we all rejoicingly obey his speech. This dwelling
likewise we abandon; and leaving some few behind, spread our sails and
run over the waste sea in our hollow wood.

'After our ships held the high seas, nor any land yet appears, the sky
all round us and all round us the deep, a dusky shower drew up overhead
carrying night and tempest, and the wave shuddered and gloomed.
Straightway the winds upturn the main, and great seas rise; we are
tossed asunder over the dreary gulf. Stormclouds enwrap the day, and
rainy gloom blots out the sky; out of the clouds bursts fire fast upon
fire. Driven from our course, we go wandering on the blind waves.
Palinurus himself professes he cannot tell day from night on the sky,
nor remember the way amid the waters. Three dubious days of blind
darkness we wander on the deep, as many nights without a star. Not till
the fourth day was land at last seen to rise, discovering distant hills
and sending up wreaths of smoke. The sails drop; we swing back to the
oars; without delay the sailors strongly toss up the foam, and sweep
through the green water. The shores of the Strophades first receive me
thus won from the waves, Strophades the Greek name they bear, islands
lying in the great Ionian sea, which boding Celaeno and the other
Harpies inhabit since Phineus' house was shut on them, and they fled in
terror from the board of old. Than these no deadlier portent nor any
fiercer plague of divine wrath hath issued from the Stygian waters;
winged things with maidens' countenance, bellies dropping filth, and
clawed hands and faces ever wan with hunger. . . .

'When borne hitherward we enter the haven, lo! we see goodly herds of
oxen scattered on the plains, and goats flocking untended over the
grass. We attack them with the sword, and call the gods and Jove himself
to share our [223-258]spoil. Then we build seats on the winding shore
and banquet on the dainty food. But suddenly the Harpies are upon us,
swooping awfully from the mountains, and shaking their wings with loud
clangour, plunder the feast, and defile everything with unclean touch,
spreading a foul smell, and uttering dreadful cries. Again, in a deep
recess under a caverned rock, shut in with waving shadows of woodland,
we array the board and renew the altar fires; again, from their blind
ambush in diverse quarters of the sky, the noisy crowd flutter with
clawed feet around their prey, defiling the feast with their lips. Then
I bid my comrades take up arms, and proclaim war on the accursed race.
Even as I bade they do, range their swords in cover among the grass, and
hide their shields out of sight. So when they swooped clamorously down
along the winding shore, Misenus from his watch-tower on high signals on
the hollow brass; my comrades rush in and essay the strange battle, to
set the stain of steel on the winged horrors of the sea. But they take
no violence on their plumage, nor wounds on their bodies; and soaring
into the firmament with rapid flight, leave their foul traces on the
spoil they had half consumed. Celaeno alone, prophetess of ill, alights
on a towering cliff, and thus breaks forth in deep accents:

'"War is it for your slaughtered oxen and steers cut down, O children of
Laomedon, war is it you would declare, and drive the guiltless Harpies
from their ancestral kingdom? Take then to heart and fix fast these
words of mine; which the Lord omnipotent foretold to Phoebus, Phoebus
Apollo to me, I eldest born of the Furies reveal to you. Italy is your
goal; wooing the winds you shall go to Italy, and enter her harbours
unhindered. Yet shall you not wall round your ordained city, ere this
murderous outrage on us compel you, in portentous hunger, to eat your
tables with gnawing teeth. "

'She spoke, and winged her way back to the shelter of [259-293]the
wood. But my comrades' blood froze chill with sudden affright; their
spirits fell; and no longer with arms, nay with vows and prayers they
bid me entreat favour, whether these be goddesses, or winged things
ill-ominous and foul. And lord Anchises from the beach calls with
outspread hands on the mighty gods, ordering fit sacrifices: "Gods,
avert their menaces! Gods, turn this woe away, and graciously save the
righteous! " Then he bids pluck the cable from the shore and shake loose
the sheets. Southern winds stretch the sails; we scud over the
foam-flecked waters, whither wind and pilot called our course. Now
wooded Zacynthos appears amid the waves, and Dulichium and Same and
Neritos' sheer rocks. We fly past the cliffs of Ithaca, Laertes' realm,
and curse the land, fostress of cruel Ulysses. Soon too Mount Leucata's
cloudy peaks are sighted, and Apollo dreaded of sailors. Hither we steer
wearily, and stand in to the little town. The anchor is cast from the
prow; the sterns are grounded on the beach.

'So at last having attained to land beyond our hopes, we purify
ourselves in Jove's worship, and kindle altars of offering, and make the
Actian shore gay with the games of Ilium. My comrades strip, and,
slippery with oil, exercise their ancestral contests; glad to have got
past so many Argive towns, and held on their flight through the
encircling foe. Meanwhile the sun rounds the great circle of the year,
and icy winter ruffles the waters with Northern gales. I fix against the
doorway a hollow shield of brass, that tall Abas had borne, and mark the
story with a verse: _These arms Aeneas from the conquering Greeks. _ Then
I bid leave the harbour and sit down at the thwarts; emulously my
comrades strike the water, and sweep through the seas. Soon we see the
cloud-capped Phaeacian towers sink away, skirt the shores of Epirus, and
enter the Chaonian haven and approach high Buthrotum town.

[294-328]'Here the rumour of a story beyond belief comes on our ears;
Helenus son of Priam is reigning over Greek towns, master of the bride
and sceptre of Pyrrhus the Aeacid; and Andromache hath again fallen to a
husband of her people. I stood amazed; and my heart kindled with
marvellous desire to accost him and learn of so strange a fortune. I
advance from the harbour, leaving the fleet ashore; just when haply
Andromache, in a grove before the town, by the waters of a feigned
Simois, was pouring libation to the dust, and calling Hector's ghost to
a tomb with his name, on an empty turfed green with two altars that she
had consecrated, a wellspring of tears. When she caught sight of me
coming, and saw distractedly the encircling arms of Troy,
terror-stricken at the vision marvellously shewn, her gaze fixed, and
the heat left her frame. She swoons away, and hardly at last speaks
after long interval: "Comest thou then a real face, a real messenger to
me, goddess-born? livest thou? or if sweet light is fled, ah, where is
Hector? " She spoke, and bursting into tears filled all the place with
her crying. Just a few words I force up, and deeply moved gasp out in
broken accents: "I live indeed, I live on through all extremities; doubt
not, for real are the forms thou seest . . . Alas! after such an
husband, what fate receives thy fall?