The Fall of Troy by Quintus Smyrnaeus (page 5)

With water-courses stream, and down the glades Slide, as they thaw, the heavy sheets, to swell The rushing waters of an ice-cold spring, So melted she in tears of anguished pain, And for her own, her husband, agonised,
And cried to her heart with miserable moans: “Woe for my wickedness! O hateful life!
I loved mine hapless husband — dreamed with him To pace to eld’s bright threshold hand in hand, And heart in heart! The gods ordained not so. Oh had the black Fates snatched me from the earth Ere I from Paris turned away in hate!
My living love hath left me! — yet will I Dare to die with him, for I loathe the light.”

So cried she, weeping, weeping piteously, Remembering him whom death had swallowed up, Wasting, as melteth wax before the flame Yet secretly, being fearful lest her sire Should mark it, or her handmaids till the night Rose from broad Ocean, flooding all the earth With darkness bringing men release from toil. Then, while her father and her maidens slept, She slid the bolts back of the outer doors, And rushed forth like a storm-blast. Fast she ran, As when a heifer ‘mid the mountains speeds, Her heart with passion stung, to meet her mate, And madly races on with flying feet,
And fears not, in her frenzy of desire, The herdman, as her wild rush bears her on, So she but find her mate amid the woods; So down the long tracks flew Oenone’s feet; Seeking the awful pyre, to leap thereon. No weariness she knew: as upon wings
Her feet flew faster ever, onward spurred By fell Fate, and the Cyprian Queen. She feared No shaggy beast that met her in the dark Who erst had feared them sorely — rugged rock And precipice of tangled mountain-slope, She trod them all unstumbling; torrent-beds She leapt. The white Moon-goddess from on high Looked on her, and remembered her own love, Princely Endymion, and she pitied her
In that wild race, and, shining overhead In her full brightness, made the long tracks plain.

Through mountain-gorges so she won to where Wailed other Nymphs round Alexander’s corpse. Roared up about him a great wall of fire; For from the mountains far and near had come Shepherds, and heaped the death-bale broad and high For 1ove’s and sorrow’s latest service done To one of old their comrade and their king. Sore weeping stood they round. She raised no wail, The broken-hearted, when she saw him there, But, in her mantle muffling up her face, Leapt on the pyre: loud wailed that multitude. There burned she, clasping Paris. All the Nymphs Marvelled, beholding her beside her lord Flung down, and heart to heart spake whispering: “Verily evil-hearted Paris was,
Who left a leal true wife, and took for bride A wanton, to himself and Troy a curse.
Ah fool, who recked not of the broken heart Of a most virtuous wife, who more than life Loved him who turned from her and loved her not!”

So in their hearts the Nymphs spake: but they twain Burned on the pyre, never to hail again
The dayspring. Wondering herdmen stood around, As once the thronging Argives marvelling saw Evadne clasping mid the fire her lord
Capaneus, slain by Zeus’ dread thunderbolt. But when the blast of the devouring fire Had made twain one, Oenone and Paris, now One little heap of ashes, then with wine Quenched they the embers, and they laid their bones In a wide golden vase, and round them piled The earth-mound; and they set two pillars there That each from other ever turn away;
For the old jealousy in the marble lives.

BOOK XI

How the sons of Troy for the last time fought from her walls and her towers.

Troy’s daughters mourned within her walls; might none Go forth to Paris’ tomb, for far away
From high-built Troy it lay. But the young men Without the city toiled unceasingly
In fight wherein from slaughter rest was none, Though dead was Paris; for the Achaeans pressed Hard on the Trojans even unto Troy.
Yet these charged forth — they could not choose but so, For Strife and deadly Enyo in their midst Stalked, like the fell Erinyes to behold, Breathing destruction from their lips like flame. Beside them raged the ruthless-hearted Fates Fiercely: here Panic-fear and Ares there Stirred up the hosts: hard after followed Dread With slaughter’s gore besprent, that in one host Might men see, and be strong, in the other fear; And all around were javelins, spears, and darts Murder-athirst from this side, that side, showered. Aye, as they hurled together, armour clashed, As foe with foe grappled in murderous fight.

There Neoptolemus slew Laodamas,
Whom Lycia nurtured by fair Xanthus’ stream, The stream revealed to men by Leto, bride Of Thunderer Zeus, when Lycia’s stony plain Was by her hands uptorn mid agonies
Of travail-throes wherein she brought to light Mid bitter pangs those babes of birth divine. Nirus upon him laid he dead; the spear
Crashed through his jaw, and clear through mouth and tongue Passed: on the lance’s irresistible point Shrieking was he impaled: flooded with gore His mouth was as he cried. The cruel shaft, Sped on by that strong hand, dashed him to earth In throes of death. Evenor next he smote Above the flank, and onward drave the spear Into his liver: swiftly anguished death
Came upon him. Iphition next he slew: He quelled Hippomedon, Hippasus’ bold son, Whom Ocyone the Nymph had borne beside
Sangarius’ river-flow. Ne’er welcomed she Her son’s returning face, but ruthless Fate With anguish thrilled her of her child bereaved.

Bremon Aeneas slew, and Andromachus,
Of Cnossus this, of hallowed Lyctus that: On one spot both from their swift chariots fell; This gasped for breath, his throat by the long spear Transfixed; that other, by a massy stone, Sped from a strong hand, on the temple struck, Breathed out his life, and black doom shrouded him. The startled steeds, bereft of charioteers, Fleeing, mid all those corpses were confused, And princely Aeneas’ henchmen seized on them With hearts exulting in the goodly spoil.

There Philoctetes with his deadly shaft Smote Peirasus in act to flee the war:
The tendons twain behind the knee it snapped, And palsied all his speed. A Danaan marked, And leapt on that maimed man with sweep of sword Shearing his neck through. On the breast of earth The headless body fell: the head far flung Went rolling with lips parted as to shriek; And swiftly fleeted thence the homeless soul.

Polydamas struck down Eurymachus
And Cleon with his spear. From Syme came With Nireus’ following these: cunning were both In craft of fisher-folk to east the hook Baited with guile, to drop into the sea
The net, from the boat’s prow with deftest hands Swiftly and straight to plunge the three-forked spear. But not from bane their sea-craft saved them now.

Eurypylus battle-staunch laid Hellus low, Whom Cleito bare beside Gygaea’s mere,
Cleito the fair-cheeked. Face-down in the dust Outstretched he lay: shorn by the cruel sword From his strong shoulder fell the arm that held His long spear. Still its muscles twitched, as though Fain to uplift the lance for fight in vain; For the man’s will no longer stirred therein, But aimlessly it quivered, even as leaps The severed tail of a snake malignant-eyed, Which cannot chase the man who dealt the wound; So the right hand of that strong-hearted man With impotent grip still clutched the spear for fight.

Aenus and Polydorus Odysseus slew,
Ceteians both; this perished by his spear, That by his sword death-dealing. Sthenelus Smote godlike Abas with a javelin-cast:
On through his throat and shuddering nape it rushed: Stopped were his heart-beats, all his limbs collapsed.

Tydeides slew Laodocus; Melius fell
By Agamemnon’s hand; Deiphobus
Smote Alcimus and Dryas: Hippasus,
How war-renowned soe’er, Agenor slew Far from Peneius’ river. Crushed by fate, Love’s nursing-debt to parents ne’er he paid.

Lamus and stalwart Lyncus Thoas smote, And Meriones slew Lycon; Menelaus
Laid low Archelochus. Upon his home Looked down Corycia’s ridge, and that great rock Of the wise Fire-god, marvellous in men’s eyes; For thereon, nightlong, daylong, unto him Fire blazes, tireless and unquenchable.
Laden with fruit around it palm-trees grow, While mid the stones fire plays about their roots. Gods’ work is this, a wonder to all time.

By Teucer princely Hippomedon’s son was slain, Menoetes: as the archer drew on him,
Rushed he to smite him; but already hand And eye, and bow-craft keen were aiming straight On the arching horn the shaft. Swiftly released It leapt on the hapless man, while sang the string. Stricken full front he heaved one choking gasp, Because the fates on the arrow riding flew Right to his heart, the throne of thought and strength For men, whence short the path is unto death.

Far from his brawny hand Euryalus hurled A massy stone, and shook the ranks of Troy. As when in anger against long-screaming cranes A watcher of the field leaps from the ground, In swift hand whirling round his head the sling, And speeds the stone against them, scattering Before its hum their ranks far down the wind Outspread, and they in huddled panic dart With wild cries this way and that, who theretofore Swept on in ordered lines; so shrank the foe To right and left from that dread bolt of doom Hurled of Euryalus. Not in vain it flew
Fate-winged; it shattered Meles’ helm and head Down to the eyes: so met him ghastly death.

Still man slew man, while earth groaned all around, As when a mighty wind scourges the land, And this way, that way, under its shrieking blasts Through the wide woodland bow from the roots and fall Great trees, while all the earth is thundering round; So fell they in the dust, so clanged their arms, So crashed the earth around. Still hot were they For fell fight, still dealt bane unto their foes.

Nigh to Aeneas then Apollo came,
And to Eurymachus, brave Antenor’s son; For these against the mighty Achaeans fought Shoulder to shoulder, as two strong oxen, matched In age, yoked to a wain; nor ever ceased From battling. Suddenly spake the God to these In Polymestor’s shape, the seer his mother By Xanthus bare to the Far-darter’s priest: “Eurymachus, Aeneas, seed of Gods,
‘Twere shame if ye should flinch from Argives! Nay, Not Ares’ self should joy to encounter you, An ye would face him in the fray; for Fate Hath spun long destiny-threads for thee and thee.”

He spake, and vanished, mingling with the winds. But their hearts felt the God’s power: suddenly Flooded with boundless courage were their frames, Maddened their spirits: on the foe they leapt Like furious wasps that in a storm of rage Swoop upon bees, beholding them draw nigh In latter-summer to the mellowing grapes, Or from their hives forth-streaming thitherward; So fiercely leapt these sons of Troy to meet War-hardened Greeks. The black Fates joyed to see Their conflict, Ares laughed, Enyo yelled Horribly. Loud their glancing armour clanged: They stabbed, they hewed down hosts of foes untold With irresistible hands. The reeling ranks Fell, as the swath falls in the harvest heat, When the swift-handed reapers, ranged adown The field’s long furrows, ply the sickle fast; So fell before their hands ranks numberless: With corpses earth was heaped, with torrent blood Was streaming: Strife incarnate o’er the slain Gloated. They paused not from the awful toil, But aye pressed on, like lions chasing sheep. Then turned the Greeks to craven flight; all feet Unmaimed as yet fled from the murderous war. Aye followed on Anchises’ warrior son,
Smiting foes’ backs with his avenging spear: On pressed Eurymachus, while glowed the heart Of Healer Apollo watching from on high.

As when a man descries a herd of swine Draw nigh his ripening corn, before the sheaves Fall neath the reapers’ hands, and harketh on Against them his strong dogs; as down they rush, The spoilers see and quake; no more think they Of feasting, but they turn in panic flight Huddling: fast follow at their heels the hounds Biting remorselessly, while long and loud Squealing they flee, and joys the harvest’s lord; So rejoiced Phoebus, seeing from the war Fleeing the mighty Argive host. No more
Cared they for deeds of men, but cried to the Gods For swift feet, in whose feet alone was hope To escape Eurymachus’ and Aeneas’ spears Which lightened ever all along their rear.

But one Greek, over-trusting in his strength, Or by Fate’s malice to destruction drawn, Curbed in mid flight from war’s turmoil his steed, And strove to wheel him round into the fight To face the foe. But fierce Agenor thrust Ere he was ware; his two-edged partizan
Shore though his shoulder; yea, the very bone Of that gashed arm was cloven by the steel; The tendons parted, the veins spirted blood: Down by his horse’s neck he slid, and straight Fell mid the dead. But still the strong arm hung With rigid fingers locked about the reins Like a live man’s. Weird marvel was that sight, The bloody hand down hanging from the rein, Scaring the foes yet more, by Ares’ will. Thou hadst said, “It craveth still for horsemanship!” So bare the steed that sign of his slain lord.

Aeneas hurled his spear; it found the waist Of Anthalus’ son, it pierced the navel through, Dragging the inwards with it. Stretched in dust, Clutching with agonized hands at steel and bowels, Horribly shrieked he, tore with his teeth the earth Groaning, till life and pain forsook the man. Scared were the Argives, like a startled team Of oxen ‘neath the yoke-band straining hard, What time the sharp-fanged gadfly stings their flanks Athirst for blood, and they in frenzy of pain Start from the furrow, and sore disquieted The hind is for marred work, and for their sake, Lest haply the recoiling ploughshare light On their leg-sinews, and hamstring his team; So were the Danaans scared, so feared for them Achilles’ son, and shouted thunder-voiced: “Cravens, why flee, like starlings nothing-worth Scared by a hawk that swoopeth down on them? Come, play the men! Better it is by far
To die in war than choose unmanly flight!”

Then to his cry they hearkened, and straightway Were of good heart. Mighty of mood he leapt Upon the Trojans, swinging in his hand
The lightening spear: swept after him his host Of Myrmidons with hearts swelled with the strength Resistless of a tempest; so the Greeks
Won breathing-space. With fury like his sire’s One after other slew he of the foe.
Recoiling back they fell, as waves on-rolled By Boreas foaming from the deep to the strand, Are caught by another blast that whirlwind-like Leaps, in a short lull of the north-wind, forth, Smites them full-face, and hurls them back from the shore; So them that erewhile on the Danaans pressed Godlike Achilles’ son now backward hurled A short space only brave Aeneas’ spirit
Let him not flee, but made him bide the fight Fearlessly; and Enyo level held
The battle’s scales. Yet not against Aeneas Achilles’ son upraised his father’s spear, But elsewhither turned his fury: in reverence For Aphrodite, Thetis splendour-veiled
Turned from that man her mighty son’s son’s rage And giant strength on other hosts of foes. There slew he many a Trojan, while the ranks Of Greeks were ravaged by Aeneas’ hand.
Over the battle-slain the vultures joyed, Hungry to rend the hearts and flesh of men. But all the Nymphs were wailing, daughters born Of Xanthus and fair-flowing Simois.

So toiled they in the fight: the wind’s breath rolled Huge dust-clouds up; the illimitable air Was one thick haze, as with a sudden mist: Earth disappeared, faces were blotted out; Yet still they fought on; each man, whomso he met, Ruthlessly slew him, though his very friend It might be — in that turmoil none could tell Who met him, friend or foe: blind wilderment Enmeshed the hosts. And now had all been blent Confusedly, had perished miserably,
All falling by their fellows’ murderous swords, Had not Cronion from Olympus helped
Their sore strait, and he swept aside the dust Of conflict, and he calmed those deadly winds. Yet still the hosts fought on; but lighter far Their battle-travail was, who now discerned Whom in the fray to smite, and whom to spare. The Danaans now forced back the Trojan host, The Trojans now the Danaan ranks, as swayed The dread fight to and fro. From either side Darts leapt and fell like snowflakes. Far away Shepherds from Ida trembling watched the strife, And to the Heaven-abiders lifted hands
Of supplication, praying that all their foes Might perish, and that from the woeful war Troy might win breathing-space, and see at last The day of freedom: the Gods hearkened not. Far other issues Fate devised, nor recked Of Zeus the Almighty, nor of none beside Of the Immortals. Her unpitying soul
Cares naught what doom she spinneth with her thread Inevitable, be it for men new-born
Or cities: all things wax and wane through her. So by her hest the battle-travail swelled ‘Twixt Trojan chariot-lords and Greeks that closed In grapple of fight — they dealt each other death Ruthlessly: no man quailed, but stout of heart Fought on; for courage thrusts men into war.

But now when many had perished in the dust, Then did the Argive might prevail at last By stern decree of Pallas; for she came
Into the heart of battle, hot to help The Greeks to lay waste Priam’s glorious town. Then Aphrodite, who lamented sore
For Paris slain, snatched suddenly away Renowned Aeneas from the deadly strife,
And poured thick mist about him. Fate forbade That hero any longer to contend
With Argive foes without the high-built wall. Yea, and his mother sorely feared the wrath Of Pallas passing-wise, whose heart was keen To help the Danaans now — yea, feared lest she Might slay him even beyond his doom, who spared Not Ares’ self, a mightier far than he.

No more the Trojans now abode the edge Of fight, but all disheartened backward drew. For like fierce ravening beasts the Argive men Leapt on them, mad with murderous rage of war. Choked with their slain the river-channels were, Heaped was the field; in red dust thousands fell, Horses and men; and chariots overturned
Were strewn there: blood was streaming all around Like rain, for deadly Doom raged through the fray.

Men stabbed with swords, and men impaled on spears Lay all confusedly, like scattered beams, When on the strand of the low-thundering sea Men from great girders of a tall ship’s hull Strike out the bolts and clamps, and scatter wide Long planks and timbers, till the whole broad beach Is paved with beams o’erplashed by darkling surge; So lay in dust and blood those slaughtered men, Rapture and pain of fight forgotten now.

A remnant from the pitiless strife escaped Entered their stronghold, scarce eluding doom. Children and wives from their limbs blood-besprent Received their arms bedabbled with foul gore; And baths for all were heated. Leeches ran Through all the town in hot haste to the homes Of wounded men to minister to their hurts. Here wives and daughters moaned round men come back From war, there cried on many who came not Here, men stung to the soul by bitter pangs Groaned upon beds of pain; there, toil-spent men Turned them to supper. Whinnied the swift steeds And neighed o’er mangers heaped. By tent and ship Far off the Greeks did even as they of Troy.

When o’er the streams of Ocean Dawn drove up Her splendour-flashing steeds, and earth’s tribes waked, Then the strong Argives’ battle-eager sons Marched against Priam’s city lofty-towered, Save some that mid the tents by wounded men Tarried, lest haply raiders on the ships Might fall, to help the Trojans, while these fought The foe from towers, while rose the flame of war.

Before the Scaean gate fought Capaneus’ son And godlike Diomedes. High above
Deiphobus battle-staunch and strong Polites With many comrades, stoutly held them back With arrows and huge stones. Clanged evermore The smitten helms and shields that fenced strong men From bitter doom and unrelenting fate,

Before the Gate Idaean Achilles’ son
Set in array the fight: around him toiled His host of battle-cunning Myrmidons.
Helenus and Agenor gallant-souled,
Down-hailing darts, against them held the wall, Aye cheering on their men. No spurring these Needed to fight hard for their country’s walls.

Odysseus and Eurypylus made assault
Unresting on the gates that fated the plain And looked to the swift ships. From wall and tower With huge stones brave Aeneas made defence.

In battle-stress by Simons Teucer toiled. Each endured hardness at his several post.

Then round war-wise Odysseus men renowned, By that great captain’s battle cunning ruled, Locked shields together, raised them o’er their heads Ranged side by side, that many were made one. Thou hadst said it was a great hall’s solid roof, Which no tempestuous wind-blast misty wet Can pierce, nor rain from heaven in torrents poured. So fenced about with shields firm stood the ranks Of Argives, one in heart for fight, and one In that array close-welded. From above
The Trojans hailed great stones; as from a rock Rolled these to earth. Full many a spear and dart And galling javelin in the pierced shields stood; Some in the earth stood; many glanced away With bent points falling baffled from the shields Battered on all sides. But that clangorous din None feared; none flinched; as pattering drops of rain They heard it. Up to the rampart’s foot they marched: None hung back; shoulder to shoulder on they came Like a long lurid cloud that o’er the sky Cronion trails in wild midwinter-tide.
On that battalion moved, with thunderous tread Of tramping feet: a little above the earth Rose up the dust; the breeze swept it aside Drifting away behind the men. There went A sound confused of voices with them, like The hum of bees that murmur round the hives, And multitudinous panting, and the gasp
Of men hard-breathing. Exceeding glad the sons Of Atreus, glorying in them, saw that wall Unwavering of doom-denouncing war.
In one dense mass against the city-gate They hurled themselves, with twibills strove to breach The long walls, from their hinges to upheave The gates, and dash to earth. The pulse of hope Beat strong in those proud hearts. But naught availed Targes nor levers, when Aeneas’ might
Swung in his hands a stone like a thunderbolt, Hurled it with uttermost strength, and dashed to death All whom it caught beneath the shields, as when A mountain’s precipice-edge breaks off and falls On pasturing goats, and all that graze thereby Tremble; so were those Danaans dazed with dread. Stone after stone he hurled on the reeling ranks, As when amid the hills Olympian Zeus
With thunderbolts and blazing lightnings rends From their foundations crags that rim a peak, And this way, that way, sends them hurtling down; Then the flocks tremble, scattering in wild flight; So quailed the Achaeans, when Aeneas dashed To sudden fragments all that battle-wall Moulded of adamant shields, because a God Gave more than human strength. No man of them Could lift his eyes unto him in that fight, Because the arms that lapped his sinewy limbs Flashed like the heaven-born lightnings. At his side Stood, all his form divine in darkness cloaked, Ares the terrible, and winged the flight Of what bare down to the Argives doom or dread. He fought as when Olympian Zeus himself
From heaven in wrath smote down the insolent bands Of giants grim, and shook the boundless earth, And sea, and ocean, and the heavens, when reeled The knees of Atlas neath the rush of Zeus. So crumbled down beneath Aeneas’ bolts
The Argive squadrons. All along the wall Wroth with the foeman rushed he: from his hands Whatso he lighted on in onslaught-haste
Hurled he; for many a battle-staying bolt Lay on the walls of those staunch Dardan men. With such Aeneas stormed in giant might, With such drave back the thronging foes. All round The Trojans played the men. Sore travail and pain Had all folk round the city: many fell,
Argives and Trojans. Rang the battle-cries: Aeneas cheered the war-fain Trojans on
To fight for home, for wives, and their own souls With a good heart: war-staunch Achilles’ son Shouted: “Flinch not, ye Argives, from the walls, Till Troy be taken, and sink down in flames!” And round these twain an awful measureless roar Rang, daylong as they fought: no breathing-space Came from the war to them whose spirits burned, These, to smite Ilium, those, to guard her safe.

But from Aeneas valiant-souled afar
Fought Aias, speeding midst the men of Troy Winged death; for now his arrow straight through air Flew, now his deadly dart, and smote them down One after one: yet others cowered away
Before his peerless prowess, and abode The fight no more, but fenceless left the wall

Then one, of all the Locrians mightiest, Fierce-souled Alcimedon, trusting in his prince And his own might and valour of his youth, All battle-eager on a ladder set
Swift feet, to pave for friends a death-strewn path Into the town. Above his head he raised

The screening shield; up that dread path he went Hardening his heart from trembling, in his hand Now shook the threatening spear, now upward climbed ú Fast high in air he trod the perilous way. Now on the Trojans had disaster come,
But, even as above the parapet
His head rose, and for the first time and the last From her high rampart he looked down on Troy, Aeneas, who had marked, albeit afar,
That bold assault, rushed on him, dashed on his head So huge a stone that the hero’s mighty strength Shattered the ladder. Down from on high he rushed As arrow from the string: death followed him As whirling round he fell; with air was blent His lost life, ere he crashed to the stony ground. Strong spear, broad shield, in mid fall flew from his hands, And from his head the helm: his corslet came Alone with him to earth. The Locrian men Groaned, seeing their champion quelled by evil doom; For all his hair and all the stones around Were brain-bespattered: all his bones were crushed, And his once active limbs besprent with gore.

Then godlike Poeas’ war-triumphant son Marked where Aeneas stormed along the wall In lion-like strength, and straightway shot a shaft Aimed at that glorious hero, neither missed The man: yet not through his unyielding targe To the fair flesh it won, being turned aside By Cytherea and the shield, but grazed
The buckler lightly: yet not all in vain Fell earthward, but between the targe and helm Smote Medon: from the tower he fell, as falls A wild goat from a crag, the hunter’s shaft Deep in its heart: so nerveless-flung he fell, And fled away from him the precious life. Wroth for his friend, a stone Aeneas hurled, And Philoctetes’ stalwart comrade slew,
Toxaechmes; for he shattered his head and crushed Helmet and skull-bones; and his noble heart Was stilled. Loud shouted princely Poeas’ son: “Aeneas, thou, forsooth, dost deem thyself A mighty champion, fighting from a tower Whence craven women war with foes! Now if Thou be a man, come forth without the wall In battle-harness, and so learn to know
In spear-craft and in bow-craft Poeas’ son!”

So cried he; but Anchises’ valiant seed, How fain soe’er, naught answered, for the stress Of desperate conflict round that wall and burg Ceaselessly raging: pause from fight was none: Yea, for long time no respite had there been For the war-weary from that endless toil.

BOOK XII

How the Wooden Horse was fashioned, and brought into Troy by her people.

When round the walls of Troy the Danaan host Had borne much travail, and yet the end was not, By Calchas then assembled were the chiefs; For his heart was instructed by the hests Of Phoebus, by the flights of birds, the stars, And all the signs that speak to men the will Of Heaven; so he to that assembly cried: “No longer toil in leaguer of yon walls; Some other counsel let your hearts devise, Some stratagem to help the host and us.
For here but yesterday I saw a sign: A falcon chased a dove, and she, hard pressed, Entered a cleft of the rock; and chafing he Tarried long time hard by that rift, but she Abode in covert. Nursing still his wrath, He hid him in a bush. Forth darted she,
In folly deeming him afar: he swooped, And to the hapless dove dealt wretched death. Therefore by force essay we not to smite Troy, but let cunning stratagem avail.”

He spake; but no man’s wit might find a way To escape their grievous travail, as they sought To find a remedy, till Laertes’ son
Discerned it of his wisdom, and he spake: “Friend, in high honour held of the Heavenly Ones, If doomed it be indeed that Priam’s burg By guile must fall before the war-worn Greeks, A great Horse let us fashion, in the which Our mightiest shall take ambush. Let the host Burn all their tents, and sail from hence away To Tenedos; so the Trojans, from their towers Gazing, shall stream forth fearless to the plain. Let some brave man, unknown of any in Troy, With a stout heart abide without the Horse, Crouching beneath its shadow, who shall say: “`Achaea’s lords of might, exceeding fain Safe to win home, made this their offering For safe return, an image to appease
The wrath of Pallas for her image stolen From Troy.’ And to this story shall he stand, How long soe’er they question him, until, Though never so relentless, they believe, And drag it, their own doom, within the town. Then shall war’s signal unto us be given — To them at sea, by sudden flash of torch, To the ambush, by the cry, `Come forth the Horse!’ When unsuspecting sleep the sons of Troy.”

He spake, and all men praised him: most of all Extolled him Calchas, that such marvellous guile He put into the Achaeans’ hearts, to be
For them assurance of triumph, but for Troy Ruin; and to those battle-lords he cried: “Let your hearts seek none other stratagem, Friends; to war-strong Odysseus’ rede give ear. His wise thought shall not miss accomplishment. Yea, our desire even now the Gods fulfil. Hark! for new tokens come from the Unseen! Lo, there on high crash through the firmament Zeus’ thunder and lightning! See, where birds to right Dart past, and scream with long-resounding cry! Go to, no more in endless leaguer of Troy Linger we. Hard necessity fills the foe
With desperate courage that makes cowards brave; For then are men most dangerous, when they stake Their lives in utter recklessness of death, As battle now the aweless sons of Troy
All round their burg, mad with the lust of fight.”

But cried Achilles’ battle-eager son: “Calchas, brave men meet face to face their foes! Who skulk behind their walls, and fight from towers, Are nidderings, hearts palsied with base fear. Hence with all thought of wile and stratagem! The great war-travail of the spear beseems True heroes. Best in battle are the brave.”

But answer made to him Laertes’ seed: “Bold-hearted child of aweless Aeacus’ son, This as beseems a hero princely and brave, Dauntlessly trusting in thy strength, thou say’st. Yet thine invincible sire’s unquailing might Availed not to smite Priam’s wealthy burg, Nor we, for all our travail. Nay, with speed, As counselleth Calchas, go we to the ships, And fashion we the Horse by Epeius’ hands, Who in the woodwright’s craft is chiefest far Of Argives, for Athena taught his lore.”

Then all their mightiest men gave ear to him Save twain, fierce-hearted Neoptolemus
And Philoctetes mighty-souled; for these Still were insatiate for the bitter fray, Still longed for turmoil of the fight. They bade Their own folk bear against that giant wall What things soe’er for war’s assaults avail, In hope to lay that stately fortress low, Seeing Heaven’s decrees had brought them both to war. Yea, they had haply accomplished all their will, But from the sky Zeus showed his wrath; he shook The earth beneath their feet, and all the air Shuddered, as down before those heroes twain He hurled his thunderbolt: wide echoes crashed Through all Dardania. Unto fear straightway Turned were their bold hearts: they forgat their might, And Calchas’ counsels grudgingly obeyed. So with the Argives came they to the ships In reverence for the seer who spake from Zeus Or Phoebus, and they obeyed him utterly.

What time round splendour-kindled heavens the stars From east to west far-flashing wheel, and when Man doth forget his toil, in that still hour Athena left the high mansions of the Blest, Clothed her in shape of a maiden tender-fleshed, And came to ships and host. Over the head Of brave Epeius stood she in his dream,
And bade him build a Horse of tree: herself Would labour in his labour, and herself
Stand by his side, to the work enkindling him. Hearing the Goddess’ word, with a glad laugh Leapt he from careless sleep: right well he knew The Immortal One celestial. Now his heart Could hold no thought beside; his mind was fixed Upon the wondrous work, and through his soul Marched marshalled each device of craftsmanship.

When rose the dawn, and thrust back kindly night To Erebus, and through the firmament streamed Glad glory, then Epeius told his dream
To eager Argives — all he saw and heard; And hearkening joyed they with exceeding joy. Straightway to tall-tressed Ida’s leafy glades The sons of Atreus sent swift messengers. These laid the axe unto the forest-pines, And hewed the great trees: to their smiting rang The echoing glens. On those far-stretching hills All bare of undergrowth the high peaks rose: Open their glades were, not, as in time past, Haunted of beasts: there dry the tree-trunks rose Wooing the winds. Even these the Achaeans hewed With axes, and in haste they bare them down From those shagged mountain heights to Hellespont’s shores. Strained with a strenuous spirit at the work Young men and mules; and all the people toiled Each at his task obeying Epeius’s hest.
For with the keen steel some were hewing beams, Some measuring planks, and some with axes lopped Branches away from trunks as yet unsawn: Each wrought his several work. Epeius first Fashioned the feet of that great Horse of Wood: The belly next he shaped, and over this
Moulded the back and the great loins behind, The throat in front, and ridged the towering neck With waving mane: the crested head he wrought, The streaming tail, the ears, the lucent eyes — All that of lifelike horses have. So grew Like a live thing that more than human work, For a God gave to a man that wondrous craft. And in three days, by Pallas’s decree,
Finished was all. Rejoiced thereat the host Of Argos, marvelling how the wood expressed Mettle, and speed of foot — yea, seemed to neigh. Godlike Epeius then uplifted hands
To Pallas, and for that huge Horse he prayed: “Hear, great-souled Goddess: bless thine Horse and me!” He spake: Athena rich in counsel heard,
And made his work a marvel to all men Which saw, or heard its fame in days to be.

But while the Danaans o’er Epeius’ work Joyed, and their routed foes within the walls Tarried, and shrank from death and pitiless doom, Then, when imperious Zeus far from the Gods Had gone to Ocean’s streams and Tethys’ caves, Strife rose between the Immortals: heart with heart Was set at variance. Riding on the blasts Of winds, from heaven to earth they swooped: the air Crashed round them. Lighting down by Xanthus’ stream Arrayed they stood against each other, these For the Achaeans, for the Trojans those; And all their souls were thrilled with lust of war: There gathered too the Lords of the wide Sea. These in their wrath were eager to destroy The Horse of Guile and all the ships, and those Fair Ilium. But all-contriving Fate
Held them therefrom, and turned their hearts to strife Against each other. Ares to the fray
Rose first, and on Athena rushed. Thereat Fell each on other: clashed around their limbs The golden arms celestial as they charged. Round them the wide sea thundered, the dark earth Quaked ‘neath immortal feet. Rang from them all Far-pealing battle-shouts; that awful cry Rolled up to the broad-arching heaven, and down Even to Hades’ fathomless abyss:
Trembled the Titans there in depths of gloom. Ida’s long ridges sighed, sobbed clamorous streams Of ever-flowing rivers, groaned ravines
Far-furrowed, Argive ships, and Priam’s towers. Yet men feared not, for naught they knew of all That strife, by Heaven’s decree. Then her high peaks The Gods’ hands wrenched from Ida’s crest, and hurled Against each other: but like crumbling sands Shivered they fell round those invincible limbs, Shattered to small dust. But the mind of Zeus, At the utmost verge of earth, was ware of all: Straight left he Ocean’s stream, and to wide heaven Ascended, charioted upon the winds,
The East, the North, the West-wind, and the South: For Iris rainbow-plumed led ‘neath the yoke Of his eternal ear that stormy team,
The ear which Time the immortal framed for him Of adamant with never-wearying hands.
So came he to Olympus’ giant ridge. His wrath shook all the firmament, as crashed From east to west his thunders; lightnings gleamed, As thick and fast his thunderbolts poured to earth, And flamed the limitless welkin. Terror fell Upon the hearts of those Immortals: quaked The limbs of all — ay, deathless though they were! Then Themis, trembling for them, swift as thought Leapt down through clouds, and came with speed to them — For in the strife she only had no part
And stood between the fighters, and she cried: “Forbear the conflict! O, when Zeus is wroth, It ill beseems that everlasting Gods
Should fight for men’s sake, creatures of a day: Else shall ye be all suddenly destroyed; For Zeus will tear up all the hills, and hurl Upon you: sons nor daughters will he spare, But bury ‘neath one ruin of shattered earth All. No escape shall ye find thence to light, In horror of darkness prisoned evermore.”

Dreading Zeus’ menace gave they heed to her, From strife refrained, and cast away their wrath, And were made one in peace and amity.
Some heavenward soared, some plunged into the sea, On earth stayed some. Amid the Achaean host Spake in his subtlety Laertes’ son:
“O valorous-hearted lords of the Argive host, Now prove in time of need what men ye be, How passing-strong, how flawless-brave! The hour Is this for desperate emprise: now, with hearts Heroic, enter ye yon carven horse,
So to attain the goal of this stern war. For better it is by stratagem and craft
Now to destroy this city, for whose sake Hither we came, and still are suffering
Many afflictions far from our own land. Come then, and let your hearts be stout and strong For he who in stress of fight hath turned to bay And snatched a desperate courage from despair, Oft, though the weaker, slays a mightier foe. For courage, which is all men’s glory, makes The heart great. Come then, set the ambush, ye Which be our mightiest, and the rest shall go To Tenedos’ hallowed burg, and there abide Until our foes have haled within their walls Us with the Horse, as deeming that they bring A gift unto Tritonis. Some brave man,
One whom the Trojans know not, yet we lack, To harden his heart as steel, and to abide Near by the Horse. Let that man bear in mind Heedfully whatsoe’er I said erewhile.
And let none other thought be in his heart, Lest to the foe our counsel be revealed.”

Then, when all others feared, a man far-famed Made answer, Sinon, marked of destiny
To bring the great work to accomplishment. Therefore with worship all men looked on him, The loyal of heart, as in the midst he spake: “Odysseus, and all ye Achaean chiefs,
This work for which ye crave will I perform — Yea, though they torture me, though into fire Living they thrust me; for mine heart is fixed Not to escape, but die by hands of foes, Except I crown with glory your desire.”

Stoutly he spake: right glad the Argives were; And one said: “How the Gods have given to-day High courage to this man! He hath not been Heretofore valiant. Heaven is kindling him To be the Trojans’ ruin, but to us
Salvation. Now full soon, I trow, we reach The goal of grievous war, so long unseen.”

So a voice murmured mid the Achaean host. Then, to stir up the heroes, Nestor cried: “Now is the time, dear sons, for courage and strength: Now do the Gods bring nigh the end of toil: Now give they victory to our longing hands. Come, bravely enter ye this cavernous Horse. For high renown attendeth courage high.
Oh that my limbs were mighty as of old, When Aeson’s son for heroes called, to man Swift Argo, when of the heroes foremost I Would gladly have entered her, but Pelias The king withheld me in my own despite.
Ah me, but now the burden of years — O nay, As I were young, into the Horse will I
Fearlessly! Glory and strength shall courage give.”

Answered him golden-haired Achilles’ son: “Nestor, in wisdom art thou chief of men; But cruel age hath caught thee in his grip: No more thy strength may match thy gallant will; Therefore thou needs must unto Tenedos’ strand. We will take ambush, we the youths, of strife Insatiate still, as thou, old sire, dost bid.”

Then strode the son of Neleus to his side, And kissed his hands, and kissed the head of him Who offered thus himself the first of all To enter that huge horse, being peril-fain, And bade the elder of days abide without. Then to the battle-eager spake the old:
“Thy father’s son art thou! Achilles’ might And chivalrous speech be here! O, sure am I That by thine hands the Argives shall destroy The stately city of Priam. At the last,
After long travail, glory shall be ours, Ours, after toil and tribulation of war; The Gods have laid tribulation at men’s feet But happiness far off, and toil between: Therefore for men full easy is the path
To ruin, and the path to fame is hard, Where feet must press right on through painful toil.”

He spake: replied Achilles’ glorious son: “Old sire, as thine heart trusteth, be it vouchsafed In answer to our prayers; for best were this: But if the Gods will otherwise, be it so. Ay, gladlier would I fall with glory in fight Than flee from Troy, bowed ‘neath a load of shame.”

Then in his sire’s celestial arms he arrayed His shoulders; and with speed in harness sheathed Stood the most mighty heroes, in whose healers Was dauntless spirit. Tell, ye Queens of Song, Now man by man the names of all that passed Into the cavernous Horse; for ye inspired My soul with all my song, long ere my cheek Grew dark with manhood’s beard, what time I fed My goodly sheep on Smyrna’s pasture-lea, From Hermus thrice so far as one may hear A man’s shout, by the fane of Artemis,
In the Deliverer’s Grove, upon a hill Neither exceeding low nor passing high.

Into that cavernous Horse Achilles’ son First entered, strong Menelaus followed then, Odysseus, Sthenelus, godlike Diomede,
Philoctetes and Menestheus, Anticlus, Thoas and Polypoetes golden-haired,
Aias, Eurypylus, godlike Thrasymede, Idomeneus, Meriones, far-famous twain,
Podaleirius of spears, Eurymachus,
Teucer the godlike, fierce Ialmenus, Thalpius, Antimachus, Leonteus staunch,
Eumelus, and Euryalus fair as a God, Amphimachus, Demophoon, Agapenor,
Akamas, Meges stalwart Phyleus’ son — Yea, more, even all their chiefest, entered in, So many as that carven Horse could hold. Godlike Epeius last of all passed in,
The fashioner of the Horse; in his breast lay The secret of the opening of its doors
And of their closing: therefore last of all He entered, and he drew the ladders up
Whereby they clomb: then made he all secure, And set himself beside the bolt. So all
In silence sat ‘twixt victory and death.

But the rest fired the tents, wherein erewhile They slept, and sailed the wide sea in their ships. Two mighty-hearted captains ordered these, Nestor and Agamemnon lord of spears.
Fain had they also entered that great Horse, But all the host withheld them, bidding stay With them a-shipboard, ordering their array: For men far better work the works of war When their kings oversee them; therefore these Abode without, albeit mighty men.
So came they swiftly unto Tenedos’ shore, And dropped the anchor-stones, then leapt in haste Forth of the ships, and silent waited there Keen-watching till the signal-torch should flash.

But nigh the foe were they in the Horse, and now Looked they for death, and now to smite the town; And on their hopes and fears uprose the dawn.

Then marked the Trojans upon Hellespont’s strand The smoke upleaping yet through air: no more Saw they the ships which brought to them from Greece Destruction dire. With joy to the shore they ran, But armed them first, for fear still haunted them Then marked they that fair-carven Horse, and stood Marvelling round, for a mighty work was there. A hapless-seeming man thereby they spied, Sinon; and this one, that one questioned him Touching the Danaans, as in a great ring They compassed him, and with unangry words First questioned, then with terrible threatenings. Then tortured they that man of guileful soul Long time unceasing. Firm as a rock abode The unquivering limbs, the unconquerable will. His ears, his nose, at last they shore away In every wise tormenting him, until
He should declare the truth, whither were gone The Danaans in their ships, what thing the Horse Concealed within it. He had armed his mind With resolution, and of outrage foul
Recked not; his soul endured their cruel stripes, Yea, and the bitter torment of the fire; For strong endurance into him Hera breathed; And still he told them the same guileful tale: “The Argives in their ships flee oversea Weary of tribulation of endless war.
This horse by Calchas’ counsel fashioned they For wise Athena, to propitiate
Her stern wrath for that guardian image stol’n From Troy. And by Odysseus’ prompting I
Was marked for slaughter, to be sacrificed To the sea-powers, beside the moaning waves, To win them safe return. But their intent I marked; and ere they spilt the drops of wine, And sprinkled hallowed meal upon mine head, Swiftly I fled, and, by the help of Heaven, I flung me down, clasping the Horse’s feet; And they, sore loth, perforce must leave me there Dreading great Zeus’s daughter mighty-souled.”

In subtlety so he spake, his soul untamed By pain; for a brave man’s part is to endure To the uttermost. And of the Trojans some Believed him, others for a wily knave
Held him, of whose mind was Laocoon. Wisely he spake: “A deadly fraud is this,” He said, “devised by the Achaean chiefs!” And cried to all straightway to burn the Horse, And know if aught within its timbers lurked.

Yea, and they had obeyed him, and had ‘scaped Destruction; but Athena, fiercely wroth
With him, the Trojans, and their city, shook Earth’s deep foundations ‘neath Laocoon’s feet. Straight terror fell on him, and trembling bowed The knees of the presumptuous: round his head Horror of darkness poured; a sharp pang thrilled His eyelids; swam his eyes beneath his brows; His eyeballs, stabbed with bitter anguish, throbbed Even from the roots, and rolled in frenzy of pain. Clear through his brain the bitter torment pierced Even to the filmy inner veil thereof;
Now bloodshot were his eyes, now ghastly green; Anon with rheum they ran, as pours a stream Down from a rugged crag, with thawing snow Made turbid. As a man distraught he seemed: All things he saw showed double, and he groaned Fearfully; yet he ceased not to exhort
The men of Troy, and recked not of his pain. Then did the Goddess strike him utterly blind. Stared his fixed eyeballs white from pits of blood; And all folk groaned for pity of their friend, And dread of the Prey-giver, lest he had sinned In folly against her, and his mind was thus Warped to destruction yea, lest on themselves Like judgment should be visited, to avenge The outrage done to hapless Sinon’s flesh, Whereby they hoped to wring the truth from him. So led they him in friendly wise to Troy, Pitying him at the last. Then gathered all, And o’er that huge Horse hastily cast a rope, And made it fast above; for under its feet Smooth wooden rollers had Epeius laid,
That, dragged by Trojan hands, it might glide on Into their fortress. One and all they haled With multitudinous tug and strain, as when Down to the sea young men sore-labouring drag A ship; hard-crushed the stubborn rollers groan, As, sliding with weird shrieks, the keel descends Into the sea-surge; so that host with toil Dragged up unto their city their own doom, Epeius’ work. With great festoons of flowers They hung it, and their own heads did they wreathe, While answering each other pealed the flutes. Grimly Enyo laughed, seeing the end
Of that dire war; Hera rejoiced on high; Glad was Athena. When the Trojans came
Unto their city, brake they down the walls, Their city’s coronal, that the Horse of Death Might be led in. Troy’s daughters greeted it With shouts of salutation; marvelling all Gazed at the mighty work where lurked their doom.

But still Laocoon ceased not to exhort His countrymen to burn the Horse with fire: They would not hear, for dread of the Gods’ wrath. But then a yet more hideous punishment
Athena visited on his hapless sons. A cave there was, beneath a rugged cliff Exceeding high, unscalable, wherein
Dwelt fearful monsters of the deadly brood Of Typhon, in the rock-clefts of the isle Calydna that looks Troyward from the sea. Thence stirred she up the strength of serpents twain, And summoned them to Troy. By her uproused They shook the island as with earthquake: roared The sea; the waves disparted as they came. Onward they swept with fearful-flickering tongues: Shuddered the very monsters of the deep: Xanthus’ and Simois’ daughters moaned aloud, The River-nymphs: the Cyprian Queen looked down In anguish from Olympus. Swiftly they came Whither the Goddess sped them: with grim jaws Whetting their deadly fangs, on his hapless sons Sprang they. All Trojans panic-stricken fled, Seeing those fearsome dragons in their town. No man, though ne’er so dauntless theretofore, Dared tarry; ghastly dread laid hold on all Shrinking in horror from the monsters. Screamed The women; yea, the mother forgat her child, Fear-frenzied as she fled: all Troy became One shriek of fleers, one huddle of jostling limbs: The streets were choked with cowering fugitives. Alone was left Laocoon with his sons,
For death’s doom and the Goddess chained their feet. Then, even as from destruction shrank the lads, Those deadly fangs had seized and ravined up The twain, outstretching to their sightless sire Agonized hands: no power to help had he. Trojans far off looked on from every side Weeping, all dazed. And, having now fulfilled Upon the Trojans Pallas’ awful hest,
Those monsters vanished ‘neath the earth; and still Stands their memorial, where into the fane They entered of Apollo in Pergamus
The hallowed. Therebefore the sons of Troy Gathered, and reared a cenotaph for those Who miserably had perished. Over it
Their father from his blind eyes rained the tears: Over the empty tomb their mother shrieked, Boding the while yet worse things, wailing o’er The ruin wrought by folly of her lord,
Dreading the anger of the Blessed Ones. As when around her void nest in a brake
In sorest anguish moans the nightingale Whose fledglings, ere they learned her plaintive song, A hideous serpent’s fangs have done to death, And left the mother anguish, endless woe, And bootless crying round her desolate home; So groaned she for her children’s wretched death, So moaned she o’er the void tomb; and her pangs Were sharpened by her lord’s plight stricken blind.

While she for children and for husband moaned — These slain, he of the sun’s light portionless — The Trojans to the Immortals sacrificed, Pouring the wine. Their hearts beat high with hope To escape the weary stress of woeful war. Howbeit the victims burned not, and the flames Died out, as though ‘neath heavy-hissing rain; And writhed the smoke-wreaths blood-red, and the thighs Quivering from crumbling altars fell to earth. Drink-offerings turned to blood, Gods’ statues wept, And temple-walls dripped gore: along them rolled Echoes of groaning out of depths unseen; And all the long walls shuddered: from the towers Came quick sharp sounds like cries of men in pain; And, weirdly shrieking, of themselves slid back The gate-bolts. Screaming “Desolation!” wailed The birds of night. Above that God-built burg A mist palled every star; and yet no cloud Was in the flashing heavens. By Phoebus’ fane Withered the bays that erst were lush and green. Wolves and foul-feeding jackals came and howled Within the gates. Ay, other signs untold Appeared, portending woe to Dardanus’ sons And Troy: yet no fear touched the Trojans’ hearts Who saw all through the town those portents dire: Fate crazed them all, that midst their revelling Slain by their foes they might fill up their doom.

One heart was steadfast, and one soul clear-eyed, Cassandra. Never her words were unfulfilled; Yet was their utter truth, by Fate’s decree, Ever as idle wind in the hearers’ ears,
That no bar to Troy’s ruin might be set. She saw those evil portents all through Troy Conspiring to one end; loud rang her cry, As roars a lioness that mid the brakes
A hunter has stabbed or shot, whereat her heart Maddens, and down the long hills rolls her roar, And her might waxes tenfold; so with heart Aflame with prophecy came she forth her bower. Over her snowy shoulders tossed her hair Streaming far down, and wildly blazed her eyes. Her neck writhed, like a sapling in the wind Shaken, as moaned and shrieked that noble maid: “O wretches! into the Land of Darkness now We are passing; for all round us full of fire And blood and dismal moan the city is.
Everywhere portents of calamity
Gods show: destruction yawns before your feet. Fools! ye know not your doom: still ye rejoice With one consent in madness, who to Troy Have brought the Argive Horse where ruin lurks! Oh, ye believe not me, though ne’er so loud I cry! The Erinyes and the ruthless Fates, For Helen’s spousals madly wroth, through Troy Dart on wild wings. And ye, ye are banqueting there In your last feast, on meats befouled with gore, When now your feet are on the Path of Ghosts!”

Then cried a scoffing voice an ominous word: “Why doth a raving tongue of evil speech, Daughter of Priam, make thy lips to cry
Words empty as wind? No maiden modesty With purity veils thee: thou art compassed round With ruinous madness; therefore all men scorn Thee, babbler! Hence, thine evil bodings speak To the Argives and thyself! For thee doth wait Anguish and shame yet bitterer than befell Presumptuous Laocoon. Shame it were
In folly to destroy the Immortals’ gift.”

So scoffed a Trojan: others in like sort Cried shame on her, and said she spake but lies, Saying that ruin and Fate’s heavy stroke Were hard at hand. They knew not their own doom, And mocked, and thrust her back from that huge Horse ú For fain she was to smite its beams apart, Or burn with ravening fire. She snatched a brand Of blazing pine-wood from the hearth and ran In fury: in the other hand she bare
A two-edged halberd: on that Horse of Doom She rushed, to cause the Trojans to behold With their own eyes the ambush hidden there. But straightway from her hands they plucked and flung Afar the fire and steel, and careless turned To the feast; for darkened o’er them their last night. Within the horse the Argives joyed to hear The uproar of Troy’s feasters setting at naught Cassandra, but they marvelled that she knew So well the Achaeans’ purpose and device.

As mid the hills a furious pantheress, Which from the steading hounds and shepherd-folk Drive with fierce rush, with savage heart turns back Even in departing, galled albeit by darts: So from the great Horse fled she, anguish-racked For Troy, for all the ruin she foreknew.

BOOK XIII

How Troy in the night was taken and sacked with fire and slaughter.

So feasted they through Troy, and in their midst Loud pealed the flutes and pipes: on every hand Were song and dance, laughter and cries confused Of banqueters beside the meats and wine. They, lifting in their hands the beakers brimmed, Recklessly drank, till heavy of brain they grew, Till rolled their fluctuant eyes. Now and again Some mouth would babble the drunkard’s broken words. The household gear, the very roof and walls Seemed as they rocked: all things they looked on seemed Whirled in wild dance. About their eyes a veil Of mist dropped, for the drunkard’s sight is dimmed, And the wit dulled, when rise the fumes to the brain: And thus a heavy-headed feaster cried:
“For naught the Danaans mustered that great host Hither! Fools, they have wrought not their intent, But with hopes unaccomplished from our town Like silly boys or women have they fled.”

So cried a Trojan wit-befogged with wine, Fool, nor discerned destruction at the doors.

When sleep had locked his fetters everywhere Through Troy on folk fulfilled of wine and meat, Then Sinon lifted high a blazing torch
To show the Argive men the splendour of fire. But fearfully the while his heart beat, lest The men of Troy might see it, and the plot Be suddenly revealed. But on their beds
Sleeping their last sleep lay they, heavy with wine. The host saw, and from Tenedos set sail.

Then nigh the Horse drew Sinon: softly he called, Full softly, that no man of Troy might hear, But only Achaea’s chiefs, far from whose eyes Sleep hovered, so athirst were they for fight. They heard, and to Odysseus all inclined Their ears: he bade them urgently go forth Softly and fearlessly; and they obeyed
That battle-summons, pressing in hot haste To leap to earth: but in his subtlety
He stayed them from all thrusting eagerly forth. But first himself with swift unfaltering hands, Helped of Epeius, here and there unbarred The ribs of the Horse of beams: above the planks A little he raised his head, and gazed around On all sides, if he haply might descry
One Trojan waking yet. As when a wolf, With hunger stung to the heart, comes from the hills, And ravenous for flesh draws nigh the flock Penned in the wide fold, slinking past the men And dogs that watch, all keen to ward the sheep, Then o’er the fold-wall leaps with soundless feet; So stole Odysseus down from the Horse: with him Followed the war-fain lords of Hellas’ League, Orderly stepping down the ladders, which Epeius framed for paths of mighty men,
For entering and for passing forth the Horse, Who down them now on this side, that side, streamed As fearless wasps startled by stroke of axe In angry mood pour all together forth
From the tree-bole, at sound of woodman’s blow; So battle-kindled forth the Horse they poured Into the midst of that strong city of Troy With hearts that leapt expectant. [With swift hands Snatched they the brands from dying hearths, and fired Temple and palace. Onward then to the gates Sped they,] and swiftly slew the slumbering guards, [Then held the gate-towers till their friends should come.] Fast rowed the host the while; on swept the ships Over the great flood: Thetis made their paths Straight, and behind them sent a driving wind Speeding them, and the hearts Achaean glowed. Swiftly to Hellespont’s shore they came, and there Beached they the keels again, and deftly dealt With whatso tackling appertains to ships. Then leapt they aland, and hasted on to Troy Silent as sheep that hurry to the fold
From woodland pasture on an autumn eve; So without sound of voices marched they on Unto the Trojans’ fortress, eager all
To help those mighty chiefs with foes begirt. Now these — as famished wolves fierce-glaring round Fall on a fold mid the long forest-hills, While sleeps the toil-worn watchman, and they rend The sheep on every hand within the wall
In darkness, and all round [are heaped the slain; So these within the city smote and slew, As swarmed the awakened foe around them; yet, Fast as they slew, aye faster closed on them Those thousands, mad to thrust them from the gates.] Slipping in blood and stumbling o’er the dead [Their line reeled,] and destruction loomed o’er them, Though Danaan thousands near and nearer drew.

But when the whole host reached the walls of Troy, Into the city of Priam, breathing rage
Of fight, with reckless battle-lust they poured; And all that fortress found they full of war And slaughter, palaces, temples, horribly Blazing on all sides; glowed their hearts with joy. In deadly mood then charged they on the foe. Ares and fell Enyo maddened there:
Blood ran in torrents, drenched was all the earth, As Trojans and their alien helpers died. Here were men lying quelled by bitter death All up and down the city in their blood; Others on them were falling, gasping forth Their life’s strength; others, clutching in their hands Their bowels that looked through hideous gashes forth, Wandered in wretched plight around their homes: Others, whose feet, while yet asleep they lay, Had been hewn off, with groans unutterable Crawled mid the corpses. Some, who had rushed to fight, Lay now in dust, with hands and heads hewn off. Some were there, through whose backs, even as they fled, The spear had passed, clear through to the breast, and some Whose waists the lance had pierced, impaling them Where sharpest stings the anguish-laden steel. And all about the city dolorous howls
Of dogs uprose, and miserable moans Of strong men stricken to death; and every home With awful cries was echoing. Rang the shrieks Of women, like to screams of cranes, which see An eagle stooping on them from the sky,
Which have no courage to resist, but scream Long terror-shrieks in dread of Zeus’s bird; So here, so there the Trojan women wailed, Some starting from their sleep, some to the ground Leaping: they thought not in that agony
Of robe and zone; in naught but tunics clad Distraught they wandered: others found nor veil Nor cloak to cast about them, but, as came Onward their foes, they stood with beating hearts Trembling, as lettered by despair, essaying, All-hapless, with their hands alone to hide Their nakedness. And some in frenzy of woe: Their tresses tore, and beat their breasts, and screamed. Others against that stormy torrent of foes Recklessly rushed, insensible of fear,
Through mad desire to aid the perishing, Husbands or children; for despair had given High courage. Shrieks had startled from their sleep Soft little babes whose hearts had never known Trouble — and there one with another lay Gasping their lives out! Some there were whose dreams Changed to a sudden vision of doom. All round The fell Fates gloated horribly o’er the slain. And even as swine be slaughtered in the court Of a rich king who makes his folk a feast, So without number were they slain. The wine Left in the mixing-bowls was blent with blood Gruesomely. No man bare a sword unstained With murder of defenceless folk of Troy, Though he were but a weakling in fair fight. And as by wolves or jackals sheep are torn, What time the furnace-breath of midnoon-heat Darts down, and all the flock beneath the shade Are crowded, and the shepherd is not there, But to the homestead bears afar their milk; And the fierce brutes leap on them, tear their throats, Gorge to the full their ravenous maws, and then Lap the dark blood, and linger still to slay All in mere lust of slaughter, and provide An evil banquet for that shepherd-lord;
So through the city of Priam Danaans slew One after other in that last fight of all. No Trojan there was woundless, all men’s limbs With blood in torrents spilt were darkly dashed.

Nor seetheless were the Danaans in the fray: With beakers some were smitten, with tables some, Thrust in the eyes of some were burning brands Snatched from the hearth; some died transfixed with spits Yet left within the hot flesh of the swine Whereon the red breath of the Fire-god beat; Others struck down by bills and axes keen Gasped in their blood: from some men’s hands were shorn The fingers, who, in wild hope to escape The imminent death, had clutched the blades of swords. And here in that dark tumult one had hurled A stone, and crushed the crown of a friend’s head. Like wild beasts trapped and stabbed within a fold On a lone steading, frenziedly they fought, Mad with despair-enkindled rage, beneath That night of horror. Hot with battle-lust Here, there, the fighters rushed and hurried through The palace of Priam. Many an Argive fell Spear-slain; for whatso Trojan in his halls Might seize a sword, might lift a spear in hand, Slew foes — ay, heavy though he were with wine.

Upflashed a glare unearthly through the town, For many an Argive bare in hand a torch
To know in that dim battle friends from foes.

Then Tydeus’ son amid the war-storm met Spearman Coroebus, lordly Mygdon’s son,
And ‘neath the left ribs pierced him with the lance Where run the life-ways of man’s meat and drink; So met him black death borne upon the spear: Down in dark blood he fell mid hosts of slain. Ah fool! the bride he won not, Priam’s child Cassandra, yea, his loveliest, for whose sake To Priam’s burg but yesterday he came,
And vaunted he would thrust the Argives back From Ilium. Never did the Gods fulfil
His hope: the Fates hurled doom upon his head. With him the slayer laid Eurydamas low,
Antenor’s gallant son-in-law, who most For prudence was pre-eminent in Troy.
Then met he Ilioneus the elder of days, And flashed his terrible sword forth. All the limbs Of that grey sire were palsied with his fear: He put forth trembling hands, with one he caught The swift avenging sword, with one he clasped The hero’s knees. Despite his fury of war, A moment paused his wrath, or haply a God Held back the sword a space, that that old man Might speak to his fierce foe one word of prayer. Piteously cried he, terror-overwhelmed:
“I kneel before thee, whosoe’er thou be Of mighty Argives. Oh compassionate
My suppliant hands! Abate thy wrath! To slay The young and valiant is a glorious thing; But if thou smite an old man, small renown Waits on thy prowess. Therefore turn from me Thine hands against young men, if thou dost hope Ever to come to grey hairs such as mine.”

So spake he; but replied strong Tydeus’ son: “Old man, I look to attain to honoured age; But while my Strength yet waxeth, will not I Spare any foe, but hurl to Hades all.
The brave man makes an end of every foe.”

Then through his throat that terrible warrior drave The deadly blade, and thrust it straight to where The paths of man’s life lead by swiftest way Blood-paved to doom: death palsied his poor strength By Diomedes’ hands. Thence rushed he on
Slaying the Trojans, storming in his might All through their fortress: pierced by his long spear Eurycoon fell, Perimnestor’s son renowned. Amphimedon Aias slew: Agamemnon smote
Damastor’s son: Idomeneus struck down Mimas: by Meges Deiopites died.

Achilles’ son with his resistless lance Smote godlike Pammon; then his javelin pierced Polites in mid-rush: Antiphonus
Dead upon these he laid, all Priam’s sons. Agenor faced him in the fight, and fell: Hero on hero slew he; everywhere
Stalked at his side Death’s black doom manifest: Clad in his sire’s might, whomso he met he slew. Last, on Troy’s king in murderous mood he came. By Zeus the Hearth-lord’s altar. Seeing him, Old Priam knew him and quaked not; for he longed Himself to lay his life down midst his sons; And craving death to Achilles’ seed he spake: “Fierce-hearted son of Achilles strong in war, Slay me, and pity not my misery.
I have no will to see the sun’s light more, Who have suffered woes so many and so dread. With my sons would I die, and so forget
Anguish and horror of war. Oh that thy sire Had slain me, ere mine eyes beheld aflame Illium, had slain me when I brought to him Ransom for Hector, whom thy father slew. He spared me — so the Fates had spun my thread Of destiny. But thou, glut with my blood Thy fierce heart, and let me forget my pain.” Answered Achilles’ battle-eager son:
“Fain am I, yea, in haste to grant thy prayer. A foe like thee will I not leave alive;
For naught is dearer unto men than life.”

With one stroke swept he off that hoary head Lightly as when a reaper lops an ear
In a parched cornfield at the harvest-tide. With lips yet murmuring low it rolled afar From where with quivering limbs the body lay Amidst dark-purple blood and slaughtered men. So lay he, chiefest once of all the world In lineage, wealth, in many and goodly sons. Ah me, not long abides the honour of man, But shame from unseen ambush leaps on him So clutched him Doom, so he forgat his woes.

Yea, also did those Danaan car-lords hurl From a high tower the babe Astyanax,
Dashing him out of life. They tore the child Out of his mother’s arms, in wrathful hate Of Hector, who in life had dealt to them Such havoc; therefore hated they his seed, And down from that high rampart flung his child — A wordless babe that nothing knew of war! As when amid the mountains hungry wolves Chase from the mother’s side a suckling calf, And with malignant cunning drive it o’er An echoing cliffs edge, while runs to and fro Its dam with long moans mourning her dear child, And a new evil followeth hard on her,
For suddenly lions seize her for a prey; So, as she agonized for her son, the foe To bondage haled with other captive thralls That shrieking daughter of King Eetion.
Then, as on those three fearful deaths she thought Of husband, child, and father, Andromaehe Longed sore to die. Yea, for the royally-born Better it is to die in war, than do
The service of the thrall to baser folk. All piteously the broken-hearted cried:
“Oh hurl my body also from the wall, Or down the cliff, or cast me midst the fire, Ye Argives! Woes are mine unutterable!
For Peleus’ son smote down my noble father In Thebe, and in Troy mine husband slew, Who unto me was all mine heart’s desire, Who left me in mine halls one little child, My darling and my pride — of all mine hopes In him fell merciless Fate hath cheated me! Oh therefore thrust this broken-hearted one Now out of life! Hale me not overseas
Mingled with spear-thralls; for my soul henceforth Hath no more pleasure in life, since God hath slain My nearest and my dearest! For me waits
Trouble and anguish and lone homelessness!”

So cried she, longing for the grave; for vile Is life to them whose glory is swallowed up Of shame: a horror is the scorn of men.
But, spite her prayers, to thraldom dragged they her.

In all the homes of Troy lay dying men, And rose from all a lamentable cry,
Save only Antenor’s halls; for unto him The Argives rendered hospitality’s debt, For that in time past had his roof received And sheltered godlike Menelaus, when
He with Odysseus came to claim his own. Therefore the mighty sons of Achaea showed Grace to him, as to a friend, and spared his life And substance, fearing Themis who seeth all.

Then also princely Anchises’ noble son — Hard had he fought through Priam’s burg that night With spear and valour, and many had he slain — When now he saw the city set aflame
By hands of foes, saw her folk perishing In multitudes, her treasures spoiled, her wives And children dragged to thraldom from their homes, No more he hoped to see the stately walls Of his birth-city, but bethought him now How from that mighty ruin to escape.
And as the helmsman of a ship, who toils On the deep sea, and matches all his craft Against the winds and waves from every side Rushing against him in the stormy time,
Forspent at last, both hand and heart, when now The ship is foundering in the surge, forsakes The helm, to launch forth in a little boat, And heeds no longer ship and lading; so
Anchises’ gallant son forsook the town And left her to her foes, a sea of fire. His son and father alone he snatched from death; The old man broken down with years he set On his broad shoulders with his own strong hands, And led the young child by his small soft hand, Whose little footsteps lightly touched the ground; And, as he quaked to see that work of deaths His father led him through the roar of fight, And clinging hung on him the tender child, Tears down his soft cheeks streaming. But the man O’er many a body sprang with hurrying feet, And in the darkness in his own despite
Trampled on many. Cypris guided them, Earnest to save from that wild ruin her son, His father, and his child. As on he pressed, The flames gave back before him everywhere: The blast of the Fire-god’s breath to right and left Was cloven asunder. Spears and javelins hurled Against him by the Achaeans harmless fell. Also, to stay them, Calchas cried aloud: “Forbear against Aeneas’ noble head
To hurl the bitter dart, the deadly spear! Fated he is by the high Gods’ decree
To pass from Xanthus, and by Tiber’s flood To found a city holy and glorious
Through all time, and to rule o’er tribes of men Far-sundered. Of his seed shall lords of earth Rule from the rising to the setting sun. Yea, with the Immortals ever shall he dwell, Who is son of Aphrodite lovely-tressed.
From him too is it meet we hold our hands Because he hath preferred his father and son To gold, to all things that might profit a man Who fleeth exiled to an alien land.
This one night hath revealed to us a man Faithful to death to his father and his child.”

Then hearkened they, and as a God did all Look on him. Forth the city hasted he
Whither his feet should bear him, while the foe Made havoc still of goodly-builded Troy.

Then also Menelaus in Helen’s bower
Found, heavy with wine, ill-starred Deiphobus, And slew him with the sword: but she had fled And hidden her in the palace. O’er the blood Of that slain man exulted he, and cried: “Dog! I, even I have dealt thee unwelcome death This day! No dawn divine shall meet thee again Alive in Troy — ay, though thou vaunt thyself Spouse of the child of Zeus the thunder-voiced! Black death hath trapped thee slain in my wife’s bower! Would I had met Alexander too in fight
Ere this, and plucked his heart out! So my grief Had been a lighter load. But he hath paid Already justice’ debt, hath passed beneath Death’s cold dark shadow. Ha, small joy to thee My wife was doomed to bring! Ay, wicked men Never elude pure Themis: night and day
Her eyes are on them, and the wide world through Above the tribes of men she floats in air, Holpen of Zeus, for punishment of sin.”

On passed he, dealing merciless death to foes, For maddened was his soul with jealousy. Against the Trojans was his bold heart full Of thoughts of vengeance, which were now fulfilled By the dread Goddess Justice, for that theirs Was that first outrage touching Helen, theirs That profanation of the oaths, and theirs That trampling on the blood of sacrifice When their presumptuous souls forgat the Gods. Therefore the Vengeance-friends brought woes on them Thereafter, and some died in fighting field, Some now in Troy by board and bridal bower.

Menelaus mid the inner chambers found At last his wife, there cowering from the wrath Of her bold-hearted lord. He glared on her, Hungering to slay her in his jealous rage. But winsome Aphrodite curbed him, struck Out of his hand the sword, his onrush reined, Jealousy’s dark cloud swept she away, and stirred Love’s deep sweet well-springs in his heart and eyes. Swept o’er him strange amazement: powerless all Was he to lift the sword against her neck, Seeing her splendour of beauty. Like a stock Of dead wood in a mountain forest, which No swiftly-rushing blasts of north-winds shake, Nor fury of south-winds ever, so he stood, So dazed abode long time. All his great strength Was broken, as he looked upon his wife.
And suddenly had he forgotten all
Yea, all her sins against her spousal-troth; For Aphrodite made all fade away,
She who subdueth all immortal hearts And mortal. Yet even so he lifted up
From earth his sword, and made as he would rush Upon his wife but other was his intent,
Even as he sprang: he did but feign, to cheat Achaean eyes. Then did his brother stay
His fury, and spake with pacifying words, Fearing lest all they had toiled for should be lost: “Forbear wrath, Menelaus, now: ’twere shame To slay thy wedded wife, for whose sake we Have suffered much affliction, while we sought Vengeance on Priam. Not, as thou dost deem, Was Helen’s the sin, but his who set at naught The Guest-lord, and thine hospitable board; So with death-pangs hath God requited him.”

Then hearkened Menelaus to his rede.
But the Gods, palled in dark clouds, mourned for Troy, A ruined glory save fair-tressed Tritonis And Hera: their hearts triumphed, when they saw The burg of god-descended Priam destroyed. Yet not the wise heart Trito-born herself Was wholly tearless; for within her fane Outraged Cassandra was of Oileus son
Lust-maddened. But grim vengeance upon him Ere long the Goddess wreaked, repaying insult With mortal sufferance. Yea, she would not look Upon the infamy, but clad herself
With shame and wrath as with a cloak: she turned Her stern eyes to the temple-roof, and groaned The holy image, and the hallowed floor
Quaked mightily. Yet did he not forbear His mad sin, for his soul was lust-distraught.

Here, there, on all sides crumbled flaming homes In ruin down: scorched dust with smoke was blent: Trembled the streets to the awful thunderous crash. Here burned Aeneas’ palace, yonder flamed Antimachus’ halls: one furnace was the height Of fair-built Pergamus; flames were roaring round Apollo’s temple, round Athena’s fane,
And round the Hearth-lord’s altar: flames licked up Fair chambers of the sons’ sons of a king; And all the city sank down into hell.

Of Trojans some by Argos’ sons were slain, Some by their own roofs crashing down in fire, Giving at once in death and tomb to them: Some in their own throats plunged the steel, when foes And fire were in the porch together seen: Some slew their wives and children, and flung themselves Dead on them, when despair had done its work Of horror. One, who deemed the foe afar, Caught up a vase, and, fain to quench the flame, Hasted for water. Leapt unmarked on him
An Argive, and his spirit, heavy with wine, Was thrust forth from the body by the spear. Clashed the void vase above him, as he fell Backward within the house. As through his hall Another fled, the burning roof-beam crashed Down on his head, and swift death came with it. And many women, as in frenzied flight
They rushed forth, suddenly remembered babes Left in their beds beneath those burning roofs: With wild feet sped they back — the house fell in Upon them, and they perished, mother and child. Horses and dogs in panic through the town Fled from the flames, trampling beneath their feet The dead, and dashing into living men
To their sore hurt. Shrieks rang through all the town. In through his blazing porchway rushed a man To rescue wife and child. Through smoke and flame Blindly he groped, and perished while he cried Their names, and pitiless doom slew those within.

The fire-glow upward mounted to the sky, The red glare o’er the firmament spread its wings, And all the tribes of folk that dwelt around Beheld it, far as Ida’s mountain-crests, And sea-girt Tenedos, and Thracian Samos. And men that voyaged on the deep sea cried: “The Argives have achieved their mighty task After long toil for star-eyed Helen’s sake. All Troy, the once queen-city, burns in fire: For all their prayers, no God defends them now; For strong Fate oversees all works of men, And the renownless and obscure to fame
She raises, and brings low the exalted ones. Oft out of good is evil brought, and good From evil, mid the travail and change of life.”

So spake they, who from far beheld the glare Of Troy’s great burning. Compassed were her folk With wailing misery: through her streets the foe Exulted, as when madding blasts turmoil
The boundless sea, what time the Altar ascends To heaven’s star-pavement, turned to the misty south Overagainst Arcturus tempest-breathed,
And with its rising leap the wild winds forth, And ships full many are whelmed ‘neath ravening seas; Wild as those stormy winds Achaea’s sons Ravaged steep Ilium while she burned in flame. As when a mountain clothed with shaggy woods Burns swiftly in a fire-blast winged with winds, And from her tall peaks goeth up a roar, And all the forest-children this way and that Rush through the wood, tormented by the flame; So were the Trojans perishing: there was none To save, of all the Gods. Round these were staked The nets of Fate, which no man can escape.

Then were Demophoon and Acamas
By mighty Theseus’ mother Aethra met. Yearning to see them was she guided on
To meet them by some Blessed One, the while ‘Wildered from war and fire she fled. They saw In that red glare a woman royal-tall,
Imperial-moulded, and they weened that this Was Priam’s queen, and with swift eagerness Laid hands on her, to lead her captive thence To the Danaans; but piteously she moaned: “Ah, do not, noble sons of warrior Greeks, To your ships hale me, as I were a foe!
I am not of Trojan birth: of Danaans came My princely blood renowned. In Troezen’s halls Pittheus begat me, Aegeus wedded me,
And of my womb sprang Theseus glory-crowned. For great Zeus’ sake, for your dear parents’ sake, I pray you, if the seed of Theseus came
Hither with Atreus’ sons, O bring ye me Unto their yearning eyes. I trow they be Young men like you. My soul shall be refreshed If living I behold those chieftains twain.”

Hearkening to her they called their sire to mind, His deeds for Helen’s sake, and how the sons Of Zeus the Thunderer in the old time smote Aphidnae, when, because these were but babes, Their nurses hid them far from peril of fight; And Aethra they remembered — all she endured Through wars, as mother-in-law at first, and thrall Thereafter of Helen. Dumb for joy were they, Till spake Demophoon to that wistful one: “Even now the Gods fulfil thine heart’s desire: We whom thou seest are the sons of him,
Thy noble son: thee shall our loving hands Bear to the ships: with joy to Hellas’ soil Thee will we bring, where once thou wast a queen.”

Then his great father’s mother clasped him round With clinging arms: she kissed his shoulders broad, His head, his breast, his bearded lips she kissed, And Acamas kissed withal, the while she shed Glad tears on these who could not choose but weep. As when one tarries long mid alien men,
And folk report him dead, but suddenly He cometh home: his children see his face, And break into glad weeping; yea, and he, His arms around them, and their little heads Upon his shoulders, sobs: echoes the home With happy mourning’s music-beating wings; So wept they with sweet sighs and sorrowless moans.

Then, too, affliction-burdened Priam’s child, Laodice, say they, stretched her hands to heaven, Praying the mighty Gods that earth might gape To swallow her, ere she defiled her hand With thralls’ work; and a God gave ear, and rent Deep earth beneath her: so by Heaven’s decree Did earth’s abysmal chasm receive the maid In Troy’s last hour. Electra’s self withal, The Star-queen lovely-robed, shrouded her form In mist and cloud, and left the Pleiad-band, Her sisters, as the olden legend tells.
Still riseth up in sight of toil-worn men Their bright troop in the skies; but she alone Hides viewless ever, since the hallowed town Of her son Dardanus in ruin fell,
When Zeus most high from heaven could help her not, Because to Fate the might of Zeus must bow; And by the Immortals’ purpose all these things Had come to pass, or by Fate’s ordinance.

Still on Troy’s folk the Argives wreaked their wrath, And battle’s issues Strife Incarnate held.

BOOK XIV.

How the conquerors sailed from Troy unto judgment of tempest and shipwreck.

Then rose from Ocean Dawn the golden-throned Up to the heavens; night into Chaos sank. And now the Argives spoiled fair-fenced Troy, And took her boundless treasures for a prey. Like river-torrents seemed they, that sweep down, By rain, floods swelled, in thunder from the hills, And seaward hurl tall trees and whatsoe’er Grows on the mountains, mingled with the wreck Of shattered cliff and crag; so the long lines Of Danaans who had wasted Troy with fire Seemed, streaming with her plunder to the ships. Troy’s daughters therewithal in scattered bands They haled down seaward — virgins yet unwed, And new-made brides, and matrons silver-haired, And mothers from whose bosoms foes had torn Babes for the last time closing lips on breasts.

Amidst of these Menelaus led his wife Forth of the burning city, having wrought A mighty triumph — joy and shame were his. Cassandra heavenly-fair was haled the prize Of Agamemnon: to Achilles’ son
Andromache had fallen: Hecuba
Odysseus dragged unto his ship. The tears Poured from her eyes as water from a spring;