Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  And largely shared. What Myrmidon, or who

  Of stern Ulysses’ warriors can withhold 1

  His tears, to tell such things, as thou would’st have re-told?

  II . “And now already from the heaven’s high steep

  The dewy night wheels down, and sinking slow,

  The stars are gently wooing us to sleep.

  But, if thy longing be so great to know

  The tale of Troy’s last agony and woe,

  The toils we suffered, though my heart doth ache,

  And grief would fain the memory forego

  Of scenes so sad, yet, Lady, for thy sake 10

  I will begin,” — and thus the sire of Troy outspake;

  III . “Broken by war, long baffled by the force

  Of fate, as fortune and their hopes decline,

  The Danaan leaders build a monstrous horse,

  Huge as a hill, by Pallas’ craft divine,

  And cleft fir-timbers in the ribs entwine.

  They feign it vowed for their return, so goes

  The tale, and deep within the sides of pine

  And caverns of the womb by stealth enclose 19

  Armed men, a chosen band, drawn as the lots dispose.

  IV . “In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle

  Renowned and rich, while Priam held command,

  Now a mere bay and roadstead fraught with guile.

  Thus far they sailed, and on the lonely strand

  Lay hid, while fondly to Mycenæ’s land

  We thought the winds had borne them. Troy once more

  Shakes off her ten years’ sorrow. Open stand

  The gates. With joy to the abandoned shore, 28

  The places bare of foes, the Dorian lines we pour.

  V . “Here camped the brave Dolopians, there was set

  The tent of fierce Achilles; yonder lay

  The fleet, and here the rival armies met

  And mingled. Some with wonder and dismay

  The maid Minerva’s fatal gift survey.

  Then first Thymætes cries aloud, to go

  And through the gates the monstrous horse convey

  And lodge it in the citadel. E’en so 37

  His fraud or Troy’s dark fates were working for our woe.

  VI . “But Capys and the rest, of sounder mind,

  Urge us to tumble in the rolling tide

  The doubtful gift, for treachery designed,

  Or burn with fire, or pierce the hollow side,

  And probe the caverns where the Danaans hide.

  Thus while they waver and, perplext with doubt,

  Urge diverse counsels, and in parts divide,

  Lo, from the citadel, foremost of a rout, 46

  Breathless Laocoon runs, and from afar cries out;

  VII . “‘Ah! wretched townsmen! do ye think the foe

  Gone, or that guileless are their gifts? O blind

  With madness! Thus Ulysses do ye know?

  Or Grecians in these timbers lurk confined,

  Or ’tis some engine of assault, designed

  To breach the walls, and lay our houses bare,

  And storm the town. Some mischief lies behind.

  Trust not the horse, ye Teucrians. Whatso’er 55

  This means, I fear the Greeks, for all the gifts they bear.’

  VIII . “So saying, his mighty spear, with all his force,

  Full at the flank against the ribs he drave,

  And pierced the bellying framework of the horse.

  Quivering, it stood; the hollow chambers gave

  A groan, that echoed from the womb’s dark cave,

  Then, but for folly or Fate’s adverse power,

  His word had made us with our trusty glaive

  Lay bare the Argive ambush, and this hour 64

  Should Ilion stand, and thou, O Priam’s lofty tower!

  IX . “Lo, now to Priam, with exulting cries,

  The Dardan shepherds drag a youth unknown,

  With hands fast pinioned, and in captive guise.

  Caught on the way, by cunning of his own,

  This end to compass, and betray the town.

  Prepared for either venture, void of fear,

  The crafty purpose of his mind to crown,

  Or meet sure death. Around, from far and near, 73

  The Trojans throng, and vie the captive youth to jeer.

  X . “Mark now the Danaans’ cunning; from one wrong

  Learn all. As, scared the Phrygian ranks to see,

  Confused, unarmed, amid the gazing throng,

  He stood, ‘Alas! what spot on earth or sea

  Is left,’ he cried, ‘to shield a wretch like me,

  Whom Dardans seek in punishment to kill,

  And Greeks disown?’ — Touched by his tearful plea,

  We asked his race, what tidings, good or ill, 82

  He brings, for hope, perchance, may cheer a captive still.

  XI . “Then he, at length his show of fear laid by,

  ‘Great King, all truly will I own, whate’er

  The issue, nor my Argive race deny.

  This first; if fortune, spiteful and unfair,

  Hath made poor Sinon wretched, fortune ne’er

  Shall make me false or faithless; — if the name

  Of Palamedes thou hast chanced to hear,

  Old Belus’ progeny, if ever came 91

  To thee or thine in talk the rumour of his fame,

  XII . “‘Whom, pure of guilt, on charges false and feigned,

  Wroth that his sentence should the war prevent,

  By perjured witnesses the Greeks arraigned,

  And doomed to die, but now his death lament,

  His kinsman, by a needy father sent,

  With him in boyhood to the war I came,

  And while in plenitude of power he went,

  And high in princely counsels waxed his fame, 100

  I too could boast of credit and a noble name.

  XIII . “‘But when, through sly Ulysses’ envious hate,

  He left the light, — alas! the tale ye know, —

  Stricken, I mused indignant on his fate,

  And dragged my days in solitude and woe,

  Nor in my madness kept my purpose low,

  But vowed, if e’er should happier chance invite,

  And bring me home a conqueror, even so

  My comrade’s death with vengeance to requite. 109

  My words aroused his wrath; thence evil’s earliest blight;

  XIV . “‘Thenceforth Ulysses sought with slanderous tongue

  To daunt me, scattering in the people’s ear

  Dark hints, and looked for partners of his wrong:

  Nor rested, till with Calchas’ aid, the seer —

  But why the thankless story should ye hear?

  Why stay your hand? If Grecians in your sight

  Are all alike, ye know enough; take here

  Your vengeance. Dearly will my death delight 118

  Ulysses, well the deed will Atreus’ sons requite.’

  XV . “Then, all unknowing of Pelasgian art

  And crimes so huge, the story we demand,

  And falteringly the traitor plays his part.

  ‘Oft, wearied by the war, the Danaans planned

  To leave — and oh! had they but left — the land.

  As oft, to daunt them, in the act to fly,

  Storms lashed the deep, and Southern gales withstand,

  And louder still, when towered the horse on high 127

  With maple timbers, pealed the thunder through the sky.

  XVI . “‘In doubt, we bade Eurypylus explore

  Apollo’s oracle, and back he brought

  The dismal news: With blood, a maiden’s gore,

  Ye stilled the winds, when Trojan shores ye sought.

  With blood again must your return be bought;

  An Argive victim doth the God demand.

  Full fast the rumour ‘mong the people wrought;


  Cold horror chills us, and aghast we stand; 136

  Whom doth Apollo claim, whose death the Fates demand?

  XVII . “‘Then straight Ulysses, ‘mid tumultuous cries,

  Drags Calchas forth, and bids the seer unfold

  The dark and doubtful meaning of the skies.

  Many e’en then the schemer’s crime foretold,

  And, silent, saw my destiny unrolled.

  Ten days the seer, as shrinking to reply

  Or name a victim, did the doom withhold;

  Then, forced by false Ulysses’ clamorous cry, 145

  Spake the concerted word, and sentenced me to die.

  XVIII . “‘All praised the sentence, pleased that one alone

  Should suffer, glad that one poor wretch should bear

  The doom that each had dreaded for his own.

  The fatal day was come; the priests prepare

  The salted meal, the fillets for my hair.

  I fled, ’tis true, and saved my life by flight,

  Bursting my bonds in frenzy of despair,

  And hidden in a marish lay that night, 154

  Waiting till they should sail, if sail, perchance, they might.

  XIX . “‘No hope have I my ancient fatherland,

  Or darling boys, or long-lost sire to see,

  Whom now perchance, the Danaans will demand,

  Poor souls! for vengeance, and their death decree,

  To purge my crime, in daring to be free.

  O by the gods, who know the just and true,

  By faith unstained, — if any such there be, —

  With mercy deign such miseries to view; 163

  Pity a soul that toils with evils all undue.’

  XX . “So, moved at length to pity by his tears,

  We spare him. Priam bids the cords unbind,

  And thus with friendly words the captive cheers;

  ‘Whoe’er thou art, henceforward blot from mind

  The Greeks, and leave thy miseries behind.

  Ours shalt thou be; but mark, and tell me now,

  What means this monster, for what use designed?

  Some warlike engine? or religious vow? 172

  Who planned the steed, and why? Come, quick, the truth avow.’

  XXI . “Then schooled in cunning and Pelasgian sleights,

  His hands unshackled to the stars he spread;

  ‘Ye powers inviolate, ever-burning lights!

  Ye ruthless swords and altars, which I fled,

  Ye sacred fillets, that adorned my head!

  Freed is my oath, and I am free to lay

  Their secrets bare, and wish the Danaans dead.

  Thou, Troy, preserved, to Sinon faithful stay, 181

  If true the tale I tell, if large the price I pay.

  XXII . “‘All hopes on Pallas, since the war begun,

  All trust was stayed. But when Ulysses, fain

  To weave new crimes, with Tydeus’ impious son

  Dragged the Palladium from her sacred fane,

  And, on the citadel the warders slain,

  Upon the virgin’s image dared to lay

  Red hands of slaughter, and her wreaths profane,

  Hope ebbed and failed them from that fatal day, 190

  The Danaans’ strength grew weak, the goddess turned away.

  XXIII . “‘No dubious signs Tritonia’s wrath declared.

  Scarce stood her image in the camp, when bright

  With flickering flames her staring eyeballs glared.

  Salt sweat ran down her; thrice, a wondrous sight!

  With shield and quivering spear she sprang upright.

  “Back o’er the deep,” cries Calchas; “nevermore

  Shall Argives hope to quell the Trojan might,

  Till, homeward borne, new omens ye implore, 199

  And win the blessing back, which o’er the waves ye bore.”

  XXIV . “‘So now to Argos are they gone, to gain

  Fresh help from heaven, and hither by surprise

  Shall come once more, remeasuring the main.

  Thus Calchas warned them; by his words made wise

  This steed, for stol’n Palladium, they devise,

  To soothe the outrag’d goddess. Tall and great,

  With huge oak-timbers mounting to the skies,

  They build the monster, lest it pass the gate, 208

  And like Palladium stand, the bulwark of the State.

  XXV . “‘“Once had your hands,” said Calchas, “dared profane

  Minerva’s gift, dire plagues” (which Heaven forestall

  Or turn on him) “should Priam’s realm sustain;

  But if by Trojan aid it scaled your wall,

  Proud Asia then should Pelops’ sons enthrall,

  And children rue the folly of the sire.”’

  His arts gave credence, and forced tears withal

  Snared us, whom Diomede, nor Achilles dire, 217

  Nor thousand ships subdued, nor ten years’ war could tire.

  XXVI . “A greater yet and ghastlier sign remained

  Our heedless hearts to terrify anew.

  Laocoon, Neptune’s priest, by lot ordained,

  A stately bull before the altar slew,

  When lo! — the tale I shudder to pursue, —

  From Tenedos in silence, side by side,

  Two monstrous serpents, horrible to view,

  With coils enormous leaning on the tide, 226

  Shoreward, with even stretch, the tranquil sea divide.

  XXVII . “Their breasts erect they rear amid the deep,

  Their blood-red crests above the surface shine,

  Their hinder parts along the waters sweep,

  Trailed in huge coils and many a tortuous twine;

  Lashed into foam, behind them roars the brine;

  Now, gliding onward to the beach, ere long

  They gain the fields, and rolling bloodshot eyne

  That blaze with fire, the monsters move along, 235

  And lick their hissing jaws, and dart a flickering tongue.

  XXVIII . “Pale at the sight we fly; unswerving, these

  Glide on and seek Laocoon. First, entwined

  In stringent folds, his two young sons they seize,

  With cruel fangs their tortured limbs to grind.

  Then, as with arms he comes to aid, they bind

  In giant grasp the father. Twice, behold,

  Around his waist the horrid volumes wind,

  Twice round his neck their scaly backs are rolled, 244

  High over all their heads and glittering crests unfold.

  XXIX . “Both hands are labouring the fierce knots to pull;

  Black gore and slime his sacred wreaths distain.

  Loud are his moans, as when a wounded bull

  Shakes from his neck the faltering axe and, fain

  To fly the cruel altars, roars in pain.

  But lo! the serpents to Tritonia’s seat

  Glide from their victim, till the shrine they gain,

  And, coiled beside the goddess, at her feet, 253

  Behind her sheltering shield with gathered orbs retreat.

  XXX . “Fresh wonder seized us, and we shook with fear.

  All say, that justly had Laocoon died,

  And paid fit penalty, whose guilty spear

  Profaned the steed and pierced the sacred side.

  ‘On with the image to its home,’ they cried,

  ‘And pray the Goddess to avert our woe’;

  We breach the walls, and ope the town inside.

  All set to work, and to the feet below 262

  Fix wheels, and hempen ropes around the neck they throw.

  XXXI . “Mounting the walls, the monster moves along,

  Teeming with arms. Boys, maidens joy around

  To touch the ropes, and raise the festive song.

  Onward it came, smooth-sliding on the ground,

  And, beetling, o’er the midmost city frowned.

  O nativ
e land! O Ilion, now betrayed!

  Blest home of deities, in war renowned!

  Four times beside the very gate ’twas stayed; 271

  Four times within the womb the armour clashed and brayed.

  XXXII . “But heedless, blind with frenzy, one and all

  Up to the sacred citadel we strain,

  And there the ill-omened prodigy install.

  E’en then — alas! to Trojan ears in vain —

  Cassandra sang, and told in utterance plain

  The coming doom. We, sunk in careless joy,

  Poor souls! with festive garlands deck each fane,

  And through the town in revelry employ 280

  The day decreed our last, the dying hours of Troy!

  XXXIII . “And now the heaven rolled round. From ocean rushed

  The Night, and wrapt in shadow earth and air

  And Myrmidonian wiles. In silence hushed,

  The Trojans through the city here and there,

  Outstretched in sleep, their weary limbs repair.

  Meanwhile from neighbouring Tenedos once more,

  Beneath the tranquil moonbeam’s friendly care,

  With ordered ships, along the deep sea-floor, 289

  Back came the Argive host, and sought the well-known shore.

  XXXIV . “Forth from the royal galley sprang the flame,

  When Sinon, screened by partial Fate, withdrew

  The bolts and barriers of the pinewood frame,

  And from its inmost caverns, bared to view,

  The fatal horse disgorged the Danaan crew.

  With joy from out the hollow wood they bound;

  First, dire Ulysses, with his captains two,

  Thessander bold and Sthenelus renowned, 298

  Down by a pendent rope come sliding to the ground.

  XXXV . “Then Thoas comes; and Acamas, athirst

  For blood; and Neoptolemus, the heir

  Of mighty Peleus; and Machaon first;

  And Menelaus; and himself is there,

  Epeus, framer of the fatal snare.

  Now, stealing forward, on the town they fall,

  Buried in wine and sleep, the guards o’erbear,

  And ope the gates; their comrades at the call 307

  Pour in and, joining bands, all muster by the wall.

  XXXVI . “’Twas now the time, when on tired mortals crept