Aeneid

Virgil

Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.

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

Pity and pardon to his tears we gave,
and spared his life. King Priam bade unbind
the fettered hands and loose those heavy chains
that pressed him sore; then with benignant mien
addressed him thus: “ Whate'er thy place or name,
forget the people thou hast Iost, and be
henceforth our countryman. But tell me true!
What means the monstrous fabric of this horse?
Who made it? Why? What offering to Heaven,
or engin'ry of conquest may it be?”
He spake; and in reply, with skilful guile,
Greek that he was! the other lifted up
his hands, now freed and chainless, to the skies:
“O ever-burning and inviolate fires,
witness my word! O altars and sharp steel,
whose curse I fled, O fillets of the gods,
which bound a victim's helpless forehead, hear!
'T is lawful now to break the oath that gave
my troth to Greece. To execrate her kings
is now my solemn duty. Their whole plot
I publish to the world. No fatherland
and no allegiance binds me any more.
O Troy, whom I have saved, I bid thee keep
the pledge of safety by good Priam given,
for my true tale shall my rich ransom be.
The Greeks' one hope, since first they opened war,
was Pallas, grace and power. But from the day
when Diomed, bold scorner of the gods,
and false Ulysses, author of all guile,
rose up and violently bore away
Palladium, her holy shrine, hewed down
the sentinels of her acropolis,
and with polluted, gory hands dared touch
the goddess, virgin fillets, white and pure,—
thenceforth, I say, the courage of the Greeks
ebbed utterly away; their strength was Iost,
and favoring Pallas all her grace withdrew.
No dubious sign she gave. Scarce had they set
her statue in our camp, when glittering flame
flashed from the staring eyes; from all its limbs
salt sweat ran forth; three times (O wondrous tale!)
it gave a sudden skyward leap, and made
prodigious trembling of her lance and shield.
The prophet Calchas bade us straightway take
swift flight across the sea; for fate had willed
the Trojan citadel should never fall
by Grecian arm, till once more they obtain
new oracles at Argos, and restore
that god the round ships hurried o'er the sea.
Now in Mycenae, whither they are fled,
new help of heaven they find, and forge anew
the means of war. Back hither o'er the waves
they suddenly will come. So Calchas gave
the meaning of the god. Warned thus, they reared
in place of Pallas, desecrated shrine
yon image of the horse, to expiate
the woeful sacrilege. Calchas ordained
that they should build a thing of monstrous size
of jointed beams, and rear it heavenward,
so might it never pass your gates, nor come
inside your walls, nor anywise restore
unto the Trojans their lost help divine.
For had your hands Minerva's gift profaned,
a ruin horrible—O, may the gods
bring it on Calchas rather!—would have come
on Priam's throne and all the Phrygian power.
But if your hands should lift the holy thing
to your own citadel, then Asia's host
would hurl aggression upon Pelops' land,
and all that curse on our own nation fall.”

Thus Sinon's guile and practiced perjury
our doubt dispelled. His stratagems and tears
wrought victory where neither Tydeus' son,
nor mountain-bred Achilles could prevail,
nor ten years' war, nor fleets a thousand strong.
But now a vaster spectacle of fear
burst over us, to vex our startled souls.
Laocoon, that day by cast of lot
priest unto Neptune, was in act to slay
a huge bull at the god's appointed fane.
Lo! o'er the tranquil deep from Tenedos
appeared a pair (I shudder as I tell)
of vastly coiling serpents, side by side,
stretching along the waves, and to the shore
taking swift course; their necks were lifted high,
their gory dragon-crests o'ertopped the waves;
all else, half seen, trailed low along the sea;
while with loud cleavage of the foaming brine
their monstrous backs wound forward fold on fold.
Soon they made land; the furious bright eyes
glowed with ensanguined fire; their quivering tongues
lapped hungrily the hissing, gruesome jaws.
All terror-pale we fled. Unswerving then
the monsters to Laocoon made way.
First round the tender limbs of his two sons
each dragon coiled, and on the shrinking flesh
fixed fast and fed. Then seized they on the sire,
who flew to aid, a javelin in his hand,
embracing close in bondage serpentine
twice round the waist; and twice in scaly grasp
around his neck, and o'er him grimly peered
with lifted head and crest; he, all the while,
his holy fillet fouled with venomous blood,
tore at his fetters with a desperate hand,
and lifted up such agonizing voice,
as when a bull, death-wounded, seeks to flee
the sacrificial altar, and thrusts back
from his doomed head the ill-aimed, glancing blade.
then swiftly writhed the dragon-pair away
unto the templed height, and in the shrine
of cruel Pallas sure asylum found
beneath the goddess' feet and orbed shield.
Such trembling horror as we ne'er had known
seized now on every heart. “ Of his vast guilt
Laocoon,” they say, “receives reward;
for he with most abominable spear
did strike and violate that blessed wood.
Yon statue to the temple! Ask the grace
of glorious Pallas!” So the people cried
in general acclaim.Ourselves did make
a breach within our walls and opened wide
the ramparts of our city. One and all
were girded for the task. Smooth-gliding wheels
were 'neath its feet; great ropes stretched round its neck,
till o'er our walls the fatal engine climbed,
pregnant with men-at-arms. On every side
fair youths and maidens made a festal song,
and hauled the ropes with merry heart and gay.
So on and up it rolled, a tower of doom,
and in proud menace through our Forum moved.
O Ilium, my country, where abode
the gods of all my sires! O glorious walls
of Dardan's sons! before your gates it passed,
four times it stopped and dreadful clash of arms
four times from its vast concave loudly rang.
Yet frantic pressed we on, our hearts all blind,
and in the consecrated citadel
set up the hateful thing. Cassandra then
from heaven-instructed heart our doom foretold;
but doomed to unbelief were Ilium's sons.
Our hapless nation on its dying day
flung free o'er streets and shrines the votive flowers.

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

That hour it was when heaven's first gift of sleep
on weary hearts of men most sweetly steals.
O, then my slumbering senses seemed to see
Hector, with woeful face and streaming eyes;
I seemed to see him from the chariot trailing,
foul with dark dust and gore, his swollen feet
pierced with a cruel thong. Ah me! what change
from glorious Hector when he homeward bore
the spoils of fierce Achilles; or hurled far
that shower of torches on the ships of Greece!
Unkempt his beard, his tresses thick with blood,
and all those wounds in sight which he did take
defending Troy. Then, weeping as I spoke,
I seemed on that heroic shape to call
with mournful utterance: “O star of Troy!
O surest hope and stay of all her sons!
Why tarriest thou so Iong? What region sends
the long-expected Hector home once more?
These weary eyes that look on thee have seen
hosts of thy kindred die, and fateful change
upon thy people and thy city fall.
O, say what dire occasion has defiled
thy tranquil brows? What mean those bleeding wounds?”
Silent he stood, nor anywise would stay
my vain lament; but groaned, and answered thus:
“Haste, goddess-born, and out of yonder flames
achieve thy flight. Our foes have scaled the wall;
exalted Troy is falling. Fatherland
and Priam ask no more. If human arm
could profit Troy, my own had kept her free.
Her Lares and her people to thy hands
Troy here commends. Companions let them be
of all thy fortunes. Let them share thy quest
of that wide realm, which, after wandering far,
thou shalt achieve, at last, beyond the sea.”
He spoke: and from our holy hearth brought forth
the solemn fillet, the ancestral shrines,
and Vesta's ever-bright, inviolate fire.

Now shrieks and loud confusion swept the town;
and though my father's dwelling stood apart
embowered deep in trees, th' increasing din
drew nearer, and the battle-thunder swelled.
I woke on sudden, and up-starting scaled
the roof, the tower, then stood with listening ear:
't was like an harvest burning, when wild winds
uprouse the flames; 't was like a mountain stream
that bursts in flood and ruinously whelms
sweet fields and farms and all the ploughman's toil,
whirling whole groves along; while dumb with fear,
from some far cliff the shepherd hears the sound.
Now their Greek plot was plain, the stratagem
at last laid bare. Deiphobus' great house
sank vanquished in the fire. Ucalegon's
hard by was blazing, while the waters wide
around Sigeum gave an answering glow.
Shrill trumpets rang; Ioud shouting voices roared;
wildly I armed me (when the battle calls,
how dimly reason shines!); I burned to join
the rally of my peers, and to the heights
defensive gather. Frenzy and vast rage
seized on my soul. I only sought what way
with sword in hand some noble death to die.

When Panthus met me, who had scarce escaped
the Grecian spears,—Panthus of Othrys' line,
Apollo's priest within our citadel;
his holy emblems, his defeated gods,
and his small grandson in his arms he bore,
while toward the gates with wild, swift steps he flew.
“How fares the kingdom, Panthus? What strong place
is still our own?” But scarcely could I ask
when thus, with many a groan, he made reply:—
“Dardania's death and doom are come to-day,
implacable. There is no Ilium now;
our Trojan name is gone, the Teucrian throne
Quite fallen. For the wrathful power of Jove
has given to Argos all our boast and pride.
The Greek is Iord of all yon blazing towers.
yon horse uplifted on our city's heart
disgorges men-at-arms. False Sinon now,
with scorn exultant, heaps up flame on flame.
Others throw wide the gates. The whole vast horde
that out of proud Mycenae hither sailed
is at us. With confronting spears they throng
each narrow passage. Every steel-bright blade
is flashing naked, making haste for blood.
Our sentries helpless meet the invading shock
and give back blind and unavailing war.”
By Panthus' word and by some god impelled,
I flew to battle, where the flames leaped high,
where grim Bellona called, and all the air
resounded high as heaven with shouts of war.
Rhipeus and Epytus of doughty arm
were at my side, Dymas and Hypanis,
seen by a pale moon, join our little band;
and young Coroebus, Mygdon's princely son,
who was in Troy that hour because he loved
Cassandra madly, and had made a league
as Priam's kinsman with our Phrygian arms:
ill-starred, to heed not what the virgin raved!

When these I saw close-gathered for the fight,
I thus addressed them: “Warriors, vainly brave,
if ye indeed desire to follow one
who dares the uttermost brave men may do,
our evil plight ye see: the gods are fled
from every altar and protecting fire,
which were the kingdom's stay. Ye offer aid
unto your country's ashes. Let us fight
unto the death! To arms, my men, to arms!
The single hope and stay of desperate men
is their despair.” Thus did I rouse their souls.
Then like the ravening wolves, some night of cloud,
when cruel hunger in an empty maw
drives them forth furious, and their whelps behind
wait famine-throated; so through foemen's steel
we flew to surest death, and kept our way
straight through the midmost town . The wings of night
brooded above us in vast vault of shade.
But who the bloodshed of that night can tell?
What tongue its deaths shall number, or what eyes
find meed of tears to equal all its woe?
The ancient City fell, whose throne had stood
age after age. Along her streets were strewn
the unresisting dead; at household shrines
and by the temples of the gods they lay.
Yet not alone was Teucrian blood required:
oft out of vanquished hearts fresh valor flamed,
and the Greek victor fell. Anguish and woe
were everywhere; pale terrors ranged abroad,
and multitudinous death met every eye.