by Virgil
Telling of Palamedes’ fame and glory that he won,
The son of Belus: traitors’ word undid him innocent;
By unjust doom for banning war the way of death he went,
Slain by Pelasgian men, that now his quenchèd light deplore.
Fellow to him, and nigh akin, I went unto the war,
Sent by my needy father forth, e’en from my earliest years;
Now while he reigned in health, a king fair blooming mid his peers
In council of the kings, I too had share of name and worth.
But after he had gone his way from land of upper earth,
Thrust down by sly Ulysses’ hate, (I tell all men’s belief),
Then beaten down I dragged my life through shadowy ways of grief,
And heavily I took the death of him my sackless friend,
Nor held my peace, O fool! but vowed revenge if time should send
A happy tide; if I should come to Argos any more,
A victor then: so with my words I drew down hatred sore.
This was the first fleck of my ill; Ulysses ever now
Would threaten with some new-found guilt, and mid the folk would sow
Dark sayings, and knowing what was toward, sought weapons new at need;
Nor wearied till with Calchas now to help him to the deed. —
— But why upturn these ugly things, or spin out time for nought?
For if ye deem all Greekish men in one same mould are wrought:
It is enough. Come make an end; Ulysses’ hope fulfil!
With great price would the Atridæ buy such working of their will.’
Then verily to know the thing and reach it deep we burned,
So little in Pelasgian guile and evil were we learned.
He takes the tale up; fluttering-voiced from lying heart he speaks:
‘The longing to be gone from Troy fell oft upon the Greeks,
And oft they fain had turned their backs on war without an end,
(I would they had), and oft as they were e’en at point to wend
A tempest would forbid the sea, or southern gale would scare,
And chiefly when with maple-beams this horse that standeth here
They fashioned, mighty din of storm did all the heavens fulfil.
So held aback, Eurypylus we sent to learn the will
Of Phoebus: from the shrine he brought such heavy words as these:
With blood and with a virgin’s death did ye the winds appease
When first ye came, O Danaan folk, unto the Ilian shore;
With blood and with an Argive soul the Gods shall ye adore
For your return.
‘Now when that word men’s ears had gone about
Their hearts stood still, and tremors cold took all their bones for doubt
What man the Fates had doomed thereto, what man Apollo would.
Amidst us then the Ithacan drags in with clamour rude
Calchas the seer, and wearieth him the Gods’ will to declare.
Of that craftsmaster’s cruel guile had many bade beware
In words, and many silently foresaw the coming death.
Twice five days Calchas holdeth peace and, hidden, gainsayeth
To speak the word that any man to very death should cast,
Till hardly, by Ulysses’ noise sore driven, at the last
He brake out with the speech agreed, and on me laid the doom;
All cried assent, and what each man feared on himself might come,
‘Gainst one poor wretch’s end of days with ready hands they bear.
Now came the evil day; for me the rites do men prepare,
The salted cakes, the holy strings to do my brows about.
I needs must say I brake my bonds, from Death’s house gat me out,
And night-long lay amid the sedge by muddy marish side
Till they spread sail, if they perchance should win their sailing tide.
Nor have I hope to see again my fatherland of old;
My longed-for father and sweet sons I never shall behold;
On whom the guilt of me who fled mayhappen men will lay,
And with their death for my default the hapless ones shall pay.
But by the might of very God, all sooth that knoweth well,
By all the unstained faith that yet mid mortal men doth dwell,
If aught be left, I pray you now to pity such distress!
Pity a heart by troubles tried beyond its worthiness!’
His weeping won his life of us, and pity thereunto,
And Priam was the first who bade his irons to undo,
And hand-bonds, and in friendly words unto the man he speaks:
‘Whoso thou art, henceforward now forget thy missing Greeks;
Thou shalt be ours: but learn me now, who fain the sooth would wot,
Wherefore they built this world of horse, what craftsman him begot,
And what to do? What gift for Gods; what gin of war is he?’
He spake. The other, wise in guile and Greekish treachery,
Both palms of his from bonds new-freed raised toward the stars above,
And, ‘O eternal fires!’ he cried, ‘O might that none may move,
Bear witness now! ye altar-stones, ye wicked swords I fled,
Ye holy fillets of the Gods bound round my fore-doomed head,
That I all hallowed Greekish rites may break and do aright,
That I may hate the men and bring all hidden things to light
If aught lie hid; nor am I held by laws my country gave!
But thou, O Troy, abide by troth, and well thy saviour save,
If truth I bear thee, if great things for great I pay thee o’er!
‘All hope the Danaans had, all trust for speeding on the war
On Pallas’ aid was ever set: yet came a day no less
When godless Diomed and he, well-spring of wickedness,
Ulysses, brake the holy place that they by stealth might gain
The fate-fulfilled Palladium, when, all the burg-guards slain,
They caught the holy image up, and durst their bloody hands
Lay on the awful Goddess there and touch her holy bands:
The flood-tide of the Danaan hope ebbed from that very day;
Might failed them, and the Goddess-maid turned all her heart away:
Token whereof Tritonia gave by portent none might doubt:
Scarce was the image set in camp when suddenly flashed out
Fierce fire from staring eyes of her, and salt sweat oozed and fell
O’er all her limbs, and she from earth, O wonderful to tell!
Leapt thrice, still holding in her hand the quivering spear and shield:
Then Calchas bade us turn to flight across the wavy field,
Singing how ruin of Pergamos the Argive steel shall lack,
Till Argos give the signs again, and we the God bring back
In hollow of the curved keel across the tumbling main.
And this is why they sought their home, Mycenæ’s land, again,
And there they dight them arms and God, and presently unwares
Will be on you across the sea — Calchas such doom declares.
So warned hereby for Godhead’s hurt, in stolen Palladium’s stead,
Atonement for their heavy guilt, this horse they fashionèd.
But him indeed did Calchas bid to pile so mountain-high
With such a might of mingled beams, and lead up to the sky,
Lest it within the gates should come, or mid the walls, and lest
Beneath their ancient Pallas-faith the people safe should rest.
For if upon Minerva’s gift ye lay a godless hand,
Then mighty ruin (and would to God before his face might stand
That ruin instead) on Priam’s might, and Phrygian folk shall fall.
But if your hands shall lead it up within the city wall,
Then Asia, free and willing it, to Pelops’ house shall come
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br /> With mighty war; and that same fate our sons shall follow home.’
Caught by such snares and crafty guile of Sinon the forsworn,
By lies and lies, and tears forced forth there were we overborne;
We, whom Tydides might not tame, nor Larissæan king
Achilles; nor the thousand ships, and ten years’ wearying.
But now another, greater hap, a very birth of fear,
Was thrust before us wretched ones, our sightless hearts to stir.
Laocoon, chosen out by lot for mighty Neptune’s priest,
Would sacrifice a mighty bull at altars of the feast;
When lo, away from Tenedos, o’er quiet of the main
(I tremble in the tale) we see huge coils of serpents twain
Breasting the sea, and side by side swift making for the shore;
Whose fronts amid the flood were strained, and high their crests upbore
Blood-red above the waves, the rest swept o’er the sea behind,
And all the unmeasured backs of them coil upon coil they wind,
While sends the sea great sound of foam. And now the meads they gained,
The burning eyes with flecks of blood and streaks of fire are stained,
Their mouths with hisses all fulfilled are licked by flickering tongue.
Bloodless we flee the sight, but they fare steadfastly along
Unto Laocoon; and first each serpent round doth reach
One little body of his sons, and knitting each to each,
And winding round and round about, the unhappy body gnaws:
And then himself, as sword in hand anigh for help he draws,
They seize and bind about in coils most huge, and presently
Are folded twice about his midst, twice round his neck they tie
Their scaly backs, and hang above with head and toppling mane,
While he both striveth with his hands to rend their folds atwain,
His fillets covered o’er with blood and venom black and fell,
And starward sendeth forth withal a cry most horrible,
The roaring of a wounded bull who flees the altar-horn
And shaketh from his crest away the axe unhandy borne.
But fleeing to the shrines on high do those two serpents glide,
And reach the hard Tritonia’s house, and therewithin they hide
Beneath the Goddess’ very feet and orbèd shield of dread;
Then through our quaking hearts indeed afresh the terror spread,
And all men say Laocoon hath paid but worthily
For guilt of his, and hurt of steel upon the holy tree,
When that unhappy wicked spear against its flank he threw.
They cry to lead the image on to holy house and due,
And Pallas’ godhead to adore.
We break adown our rampart walls and bare the very town:
All gird themselves unto the work, set wheels that it may glide
Beneath his feet, about his neck the hempen bond is tied
To warp it on: up o’er the walls so climbs the fateful thing
Fruitful of arms; and boys about and unwed maidens sing
The holy songs, and deem it joy hand on the ropes to lay.
It enters; through the city’s midst it wends its evil way.
— O land! O Ilium, house of Gods! O glorious walls of war!
O Dardan walls! — four times amidst the threshold of our door
It stood: four times with sound of arms the belly of it rung;
But heedless, maddened hearts and blind, hard on the ropes we hung,
Nor but amidst the holy burg the monster’s feet we stay.
And then Cassandra oped her mouth to tell the fateful day, —
Her mouth that by the Gods’ own doom the Teucrians ne’er might trow.
Then on this day that was our last we bear the joyous bough,
Poor wretches! through the town to deck each godhead’s holy place.
Meanwhile the heavens are faring round, night falls on ocean’s face,
Enwrapping in her mighty shade all earthly things and sky,
And all the guile of Myrmidons: silent the Teucrians lie
Through all the town, and Sleep her arms o’er wearied bodies slips.
And now the Argive host comes forth upon its ordered ships
From Tenedos, all hushed amid the kind moon’s silent ways,
Seeking the well-known strand, when forth there breaks the bale-fire’s blaze
On the king’s deck: and Sinon, kept by Gods’ unequal fate,
For Danaans hid in horse’s womb undoes the piny gate
In stealthy wise: them now the horse, laid open to the air,
Gives forth again, and glad from out the hollow wood they fare;
Thessandrus, Sthenelus, the dukes, and dire Ulysses pass;
Slipped down along a hanging rope, Thoas and Acamas,
Peleian Neoptolemus, and Machaon the first,
And Menelaüs, and the man who forged the guile accursed,
Epeos. Through the city sunk in sleep and wine they break,
Slain are the guards, at gates all oped their fellows in they take,
Till all their bands confederate are met at last in one.
It was the time when that first peace of sick men hath begun,
By very gift of God o’er all in sweetest wise to creep,
When Hector comes before mine eyes amid the dreams of sleep,
Most sorrowful to see he was, and weeping plenteous flood,
And e’en as torn behind the car, black with the dust and blood,
His feet all swollen with the thong that pierced them through and through.
Woe worth the while for what he was! How changed from him we knew!
The Hector come from out the fight in arms Achilles lost,
The Hector that on Danaan decks the Phrygian firebrands tost.
Foul was his beard, and all his hair was matted up with gore,
And on his body were the wounds, the many wounds he bore
Around his Troy. I seemed in sleep, I weeping e’en as he,
To speak unto the hero first in voice of misery:
‘O Light of Troy, most faithful hope of all the Teucrian men,
What stay hath held thee back so long? from what shore com’st thou then,
Long-looked-for Hector? that at last, so many died away,
Such toil of city, toil of men, we see thy face today,
We so forewearied? What hath fouled in such an evil wise
Thy cheerful face? what mean these hurts thou showest to mine eyes?’
Nought: nor my questions void and vain one moment turned his speech;
Who from the inmost of his heart a heavy groan did reach:
‘O Goddess-born, flee forth,’ he said, ‘and snatch thee from the fire!
The foeman hath the walls, and Troy is down from topmost spire.
For Priam and for country now enough. If any hand
Might have kept Pergamos, held up by mine it yet should stand.
Her holy things and household gods Troy gives in charge to thee;
Take these as fellows of thy fate: go forth the walls to see,
The great walls thou shalt build, when thou the sea hast wandered o’er.’
He spake, and from the inner shrine forth in his hands he bore
Great Vesta, and the holy bands, and fire that never dies.
Meanwhile the city’s turmoiled woe was wrought in diverse wise,
And though my father’s house aback apart from all was set,
And hedged about with many trees, clearer and clearer yet
The sounds grew on us, ever swelled the weapons’ dread and din.
I shake off sleep and forthwithal climb up aloft and win
To topmost roof: with ears pricked up I stand to hearken all.
As when before the furious South the driven flame doth fall
Among the corn: or like as when the hill-flood rolls in haste
Tearing the headlong woods along, while high upon a stone
The unready shepherd stands amazed, and hears the sound come on.
Then was their faith made manifest, then Danaan guile lay bare;
Deïphobus’ wide house e’en now, o’ertopped by Vulcan’s flare,
Shows forth its fall; Ucalegon’s is burning by its side:
The narrow seas Sigæum guards gleam litten far and wide.
The shout of men ariseth now, and blaring of the horn,
And mad, I catch my weapons up though idly they be borne;
But burned my heart to gather folk for battle, and set forth
Upon the burg in fellowship; for fury and great wrath
Thrust on my heart: to die in arms, it seemed a good reward.
But lo, now Panthus newly slipped from ‘neath the Achean sword,
Panthus the son of Othrys, priest of Phoebus’ house on high;
His holy things and vanquished Gods, his little lad thereby
He drags, and as a madman runs, to gain our doorway set.
‘Panthus, how fares it at the worst? what stronghold keep we yet?’
Scarce had I said, when from his mouth a groan and answer fares:
‘Troy’s latest day has come on us, a tide no struggling wears:
Time was, the Trojans were; time was, and Ilium stood; time was,
And glory of the Teucrian folk! Jove biddeth all to pass
To Argos now: in Troy afire the Danaans now are lords;
The horse high set amidst the town pours forth a flood of swords,
And Sinon, of the victors now, the flame is driving home
High mocking: by the open gates another sort is come,
As many thousands as ere flocked from great Mycenæ yet:
Others with weapons ready dight the narrow ways beset,
And ban all passage; point and edge are glittering drawn and bare
Ready for death: and scarcely now the first few gatewards dare
The battle, and blind game of Mars a little while debate.’
Spurred by such speech of Othrys’ son, and force of godhead great,
Mid fire and steel I follow on as grim Erinnys shows,
Where call the cries, where calls the shout that ever heavenward goes,
Rhipeus therewith, and Epytus the mighty under shield,
Dymas and Hypanis withal their fellowship now yield;
Met by the moon they join my side with young Coroebus; he
The son of Mygdon, at that tide in Troy-town chanced to be;
Drawn thither by Cassandra’s love that burned within his heart.
