Complete Works of Virgil

by Virgil

  If heaven’s decree, if our own wills, that hour,

  had not been fixed on woe, his spear had brought

  a bloody slaughter on our ambushed foe,

  and Troy were standing on the earth this day!

  O Priam’s towers, ye were unfallen still!

  But, lo! with hands fast bound behind, a youth

  by clamorous Dardan shepherds haled along,

  was brought before our king, — to this sole end

  a self-surrendered captive, that he might,

  although a nameless stranger, cunningly

  deliver to the Greek the gates of Troy.

  His firm-set mind flinched not from either goal, —

  success in crime, or on swift death to fall.

  The thronging Trojan youth made haste his way

  from every side, all eager to see close

  their captive’s face, and clout with emulous scorn.

  Hear now what Greek deception is, and learn

  from one dark wickedness the whole. For he,

  a mark for every eye, defenceless, dazed,

  stood staring at our Phrygian hosts, and cried:

  “Woe worth the day! What ocean or what shore

  will have me now? What desperate path remains

  for miserable me? Now have I lost

  all foothold with the Greeks, and o’er my head

  Troy’s furious sons call bloody vengeance down.”

  Such groans and anguish turned all rage away

  and stayed our lifted hands. We bade him tell

  his birth, his errand, and from whence might be

  such hope of mercy for a foe in chains.

  Then fearing us no more, this speech he dared:

  “O King! I will confess, whate’er befall,

  the whole unvarnished truth. I will not hide

  my Grecian birth. Yea, thus will I begin.

  For Fortune has brought wretched Sinon low;

  but never shall her cruelty impair

  his honor and his truth. Perchance the name

  of Palamedes, Belus’ glorious son,

  has come by rumor to your listening ears;

  whom by false witness and conspiracy,

  because his counsel was not for this war,

  the Greeks condemned, though guiltless, to his death,

  and now make much lament for him they slew.

  I, his companion, of his kith and kin,

  sent hither by my humble sire’s command,

  followed his arms and fortunes from my youth.

  Long as his throne endured, and while he throve

  in conclave with his kingly peers, we twain

  some name and lustre bore; but afterward,

  because that cheat Ulysses envied him

  (Ye know the deed), he from this world withdrew,

  and I in gloom and tribulation sore

  lived miserably on, lamenting loud

  my lost friend’s blameless fall. A fool was I

  that kept not these lips closed; but I had vowed

  that if a conqueror home to Greece I came,

  I would avenge. Such words moved wrath, and were

  the first shock of my ruin; from that hour,

  Ulysses whispered slander and alarm;

  breathed doubt and malice into all men’s ears,

  and darkly plotted how to strike his blow.

  Nor rest had he, till Calchas, as his tool,-

  but why unfold this useless, cruel story?

  Why make delay? Ye count all sons of Greece

  arrayed as one; and to have heard thus far

  suffices you. Take now your ripe revenge!

  Ulysses smiles and Atreus’ royal sons

  with liberal price your deed of blood repay.”

  We ply him then with passionate appeal

  and question all his cause: of guilt so dire

  or such Greek guile we harbored not the thought.

  So on he prates, with well-feigned grief and fear,

  and from his Iying heart thus told his tale:

  “Full oft the Greeks had fain achieved their flight,

  and raised the Trojan siege, and sailed away

  war-wearied quite. O, would it had been so!

  Full oft the wintry tumult of the seas

  did wall them round, and many a swollen storm

  their embarcation stayed. But chiefly when,

  all fitly built of beams of maple fair,

  this horse stood forth, — what thunders filled the skies!

  With anxious fears we sent Eurypylus

  to ask Apollo’s word; and from the shrine

  he brings the sorrowful commandment home:

  ‘By flowing blood and by a virgin slain

  the wild winds were appeased, when first ye came,

  ye sons of Greece, to Ilium’s distant shore.

  Through blood ye must return. Let some Greek life

  your expiation be.’ The popular ear

  the saying caught, all spirits were dimmed o’er;

  cold doubt and horror through each bosom ran,

  asking what fate would do, and on what wretch

  Apollo’s choice would fall. Ulysses, then,

  amid the people’s tumult and acclaim,

  thrust Calchas forth, some prophecy to tell

  to all the throng: he asked him o’er and o’er

  what Heaven desired. Already not a few

  foretold the murderous plot, and silently

  watched the dark doom upon my life impend.

  Twice five long days the seer his lips did seal,

  and hid himself, refusing to bring forth

  His word of guile, and name what wretch should die.

  At last, reluctant, and all loudly urged

  By false Ulysses, he fulfils their plot,

  and, lifting up his voice oracular,

  points out myself the victim to be slain.

  Nor did one voice oppose. The mortal stroke

  horribly hanging o’er each coward head

  was changed to one man’s ruin, and their hearts

  endured it well. Soon rose th’ accursed morn;

  the bloody ritual was ready; salt

  was sprinkled on the sacred loaf; my brows

  were bound with fillets for the offering.

  But I escaped that death — yes! I deny not!

  I cast my fetters off, and darkling lay

  concealed all night in lake-side sedge and mire,

  awaiting their departure, if perchance

  they should in truth set sail. But nevermore

  shall my dear, native country greet these eyes.

  No more my father or my tender babes

  shall I behold. Nay, haply their own lives

  are forfeit, when my foemen take revenge

  for my escape, and slay those helpless ones,

  in expiation of my guilty deed.

  O, by yon powers in heaven which witness truth,

  by aught in this dark world remaining now

  of spotless human faith and innocence,

  I do implore thee look with pitying eye

  on these long sufferings my heart hath borne.

  O, pity! I deserve not what I bear.”

  Pity and pardon to his tears we gave,

  and spared his life. King Priam bade unbind

  the fettered hands and loose those heavy chains

  that pressed him sore; then with benignant mien

  addressed him thus: “ Whate’er thy place or name,

  forget the people thou hast Iost, and be

  henceforth our countryman. But tell me true!

  What means the monstrous fabric of this horse?

  Who made it? Why? What offering to Heaven,

  or engin’ry of conquest may it be?”

  He spake; and in reply, with skilful guile,

  Greek that he was! the other lifted up

  his hands, now freed and chainless, to the skies:

  “O ever-burning
and inviolate fires,

  witness my word! O altars and sharp steel,

  whose curse I fled, O fillets of the gods,

  which bound a victim’s helpless forehead, hear!

  ‘T is lawful now to break the oath that gave

  my troth to Greece. To execrate her kings

  is now my solemn duty. Their whole plot

  I publish to the world. No fatherland

  and no allegiance binds me any more.

  O Troy, whom I have saved, I bid thee keep

  the pledge of safety by good Priam given,

  for my true tale shall my rich ransom be.

  The Greeks’ one hope, since first they opened war,

  was Pallas, grace and power. But from the day

  when Diomed, bold scorner of the gods,

  and false Ulysses, author of all guile,

  rose up and violently bore away

  Palladium, her holy shrine, hewed down

  the sentinels of her acropolis,

  and with polluted, gory hands dared touch

  the goddess, virgin fillets, white and pure, —

  thenceforth, I say, the courage of the Greeks

  ebbed utterly away; their strength was Iost,

  and favoring Pallas all her grace withdrew.

  No dubious sign she gave. Scarce had they set

  her statue in our camp, when glittering flame

  flashed from the staring eyes; from all its limbs

  salt sweat ran forth; three times (O wondrous tale!)

  it gave a sudden skyward leap, and made

  prodigious trembling of her lance and shield.

  The prophet Calchas bade us straightway take

  swift flight across the sea; for fate had willed

  the Trojan citadel should never fall

  by Grecian arm, till once more they obtain

  new oracles at Argos, and restore

  that god the round ships hurried o’er the sea.

  Now in Mycenae, whither they are fled,

  new help of heaven they find, and forge anew

  the means of war. Back hither o’er the waves

  they suddenly will come. So Calchas gave

  the meaning of the god. Warned thus, they reared

  in place of Pallas, desecrated shrine

  yon image of the horse, to expiate

  the woeful sacrilege. Calchas ordained

  that they should build a thing of monstrous size

  of jointed beams, and rear it heavenward,

  so might it never pass your gates, nor come

  inside your walls, nor anywise restore

  unto the Trojans their lost help divine.

  For had your hands Minerva’s gift profaned,

  a ruin horrible — O, may the gods

  bring it on Calchas rather! — would have come

  on Priam’s throne and all the Phrygian power.

  But if your hands should lift the holy thing

  to your own citadel, then Asia’s host

  would hurl aggression upon Pelops’ land,

  and all that curse on our own nation fall.”

  Thus Sinon’s guile and practiced perjury

  our doubt dispelled. His stratagems and tears

  wrought victory where neither Tydeus’ son,

  nor mountain-bred Achilles could prevail,

  nor ten years’ war, nor fleets a thousand strong.

  But now a vaster spectacle of fear

  burst over us, to vex our startled souls.

  Laocoon, that day by cast of lot

  priest unto Neptune, was in act to slay

  a huge bull at the god’s appointed fane.

  Lo! o’er the tranquil deep from Tenedos

  appeared a pair (I shudder as I tell)

  of vastly coiling serpents, side by side,

  stretching along the waves, and to the shore

  taking swift course; their necks were lifted high,

  their gory dragon-crests o’ertopped the waves;

  all else, half seen, trailed low along the sea;

  while with loud cleavage of the foaming brine

  their monstrous backs wound forward fold on fold.

  Soon they made land; the furious bright eyes

  glowed with ensanguined fire; their quivering tongues

  lapped hungrily the hissing, gruesome jaws.

  All terror-pale we fled. Unswerving then

  the monsters to Laocoon made way.

  First round the tender limbs of his two sons

  each dragon coiled, and on the shrinking flesh

  fixed fast and fed. Then seized they on the sire,

  who flew to aid, a javelin in his hand,

  embracing close in bondage serpentine

  twice round the waist; and twice in scaly grasp

  around his neck, and o’er him grimly peered

  with lifted head and crest; he, all the while,

  his holy fillet fouled with venomous blood,

  tore at his fetters with a desperate hand,

  and lifted up such agonizing voice,

  as when a bull, death-wounded, seeks to flee

  the sacrificial altar, and thrusts back

  from his doomed head the ill-aimed, glancing blade.

  then swiftly writhed the dragon-pair away

  unto the templed height, and in the shrine

  of cruel Pallas sure asylum found

  beneath the goddess’ feet and orbed shield.

  Such trembling horror as we ne’er had known

  seized now on every heart. “ Of his vast guilt

  Laocoon,” they say, “receives reward;

  for he with most abominable spear

  did strike and violate that blessed wood.

  Yon statue to the temple! Ask the grace

  of glorious Pallas!” So the people cried

  in general acclaim.Ourselves did make

  a breach within our walls and opened wide

  the ramparts of our city. One and all

  were girded for the task. Smooth-gliding wheels

  were ‘neath its feet; great ropes stretched round its neck,

  till o’er our walls the fatal engine climbed,

  pregnant with men-at-arms. On every side

  fair youths and maidens made a festal song,

  and hauled the ropes with merry heart and gay.

  So on and up it rolled, a tower of doom,

  and in proud menace through our Forum moved.

  O Ilium, my country, where abode

  the gods of all my sires! O glorious walls

  of Dardan’s sons! before your gates it passed,

  four times it stopped and dreadful clash of arms

  four times from its vast concave loudly rang.

  Yet frantic pressed we on, our hearts all blind,

  and in the consecrated citadel

  set up the hateful thing. Cassandra then

  from heaven-instructed heart our doom foretold;

  but doomed to unbelief were Ilium’s sons.

  Our hapless nation on its dying day

  flung free o’er streets and shrines the votive flowers.

  The skies rolled on; and o’er the ocean fell

  the veil of night, till utmost earth and heaven

  and all their Myrmidonian stratagems

  were mantled darkly o’er. In silent sleep

  the Trojan city lay; dull slumber chained

  its weary life. But now the Greek array

  of ordered ships moved on from Tenedos,

  their only light the silent, favoring moon,

  on to the well-known strand. The King displayed

  torch from his own ship, and Sinon then,

  whom wrathful Heaven defended in that hour,

  let the imprisoned band of Greeks go free

  from that huge womb of wood; the open horse

  restored them to the light; and joyfully

  emerging from the darkness, one by one,

  princely Thessander, Sthenelus, and
dire

  Ulysses glided down the swinging cord.

  Closely upon them Neoptolemus,

  the son of Peleus, came, and Acamas,

  King Menelaus, Thoas and Machaon,

  and last, Epeus, who the fabric wrought.

  Upon the town they fell, for deep in sleep

  and drowsed with wine it lay; the sentinels

  they slaughtered, and through gates now opened wide

  let in their fellows, and arrayed for war

  th’ auxiliar legions of the dark design.

  That hour it was when heaven’s first gift of sleep

  on weary hearts of men most sweetly steals.

  O, then my slumbering senses seemed to see

  Hector, with woeful face and streaming eyes;

  I seemed to see him from the chariot trailing,

  foul with dark dust and gore, his swollen feet

  pierced with a cruel thong. Ah me! what change

  from glorious Hector when he homeward bore

  the spoils of fierce Achilles; or hurled far

  that shower of torches on the ships of Greece!

  Unkempt his beard, his tresses thick with blood,

  and all those wounds in sight which he did take

  defending Troy. Then, weeping as I spoke,

  I seemed on that heroic shape to call

  with mournful utterance: “O star of Troy!

  O surest hope and stay of all her sons!

  Why tarriest thou so Iong? What region sends

  the long-expected Hector home once more?

  These weary eyes that look on thee have seen

  hosts of thy kindred die, and fateful change

  upon thy people and thy city fall.

  O, say what dire occasion has defiled

  thy tranquil brows? What mean those bleeding wounds?”

  Silent he stood, nor anywise would stay

  my vain lament; but groaned, and answered thus:

  “Haste, goddess-born, and out of yonder flames

  achieve thy flight. Our foes have scaled the wall;

  exalted Troy is falling. Fatherland

  and Priam ask no more. If human arm

  could profit Troy, my own had kept her free.

  Her Lares and her people to thy hands

  Troy here commends. Companions let them be

  of all thy fortunes. Let them share thy quest

  of that wide realm, which, after wandering far,

  thou shalt achieve, at last, beyond the sea.”

  He spoke: and from our holy hearth brought forth

  the solemn fillet, the ancestral shrines,

  and Vesta’s ever-bright, inviolate fire.

  Now shrieks and loud confusion swept the town;

  and though my father’s dwelling stood apart

  embowered deep in trees, th’ increasing din

  drew nearer, and the battle-thunder swelled.

  I woke on sudden, and up-starting scaled

  the roof, the tower, then stood with listening ear: