The Æneid of Virgil translated into English prose

by Virgil

BOOK II

Every tongue was hushed, and every eye fixed intently,

when, from high couch, father Æneas began thus:—

“Too cruel to be told, great queen, is the sorrow you

bid me revive—how the power of Troy and its empire

met with piteous overthrow from the Danaans—the 5

heartrending sights which my own eyes saw, and the scenes

where I had a large part to play. Who, in such recital—be

he of the Myrmidons[122] or the Dolopes, or a soldier of

ruthless Ulysses’[123] band—would refrain from tears? And

now, too, night is rushing in dews down the steep of heaven, 10

and the setting stars counsel repose. Still, if so great be

your longing to acquaint yourself with our disasters, and

hear the brief tale of Troy’s last agony, though my mind

shudders at the remembrance, and starts back in sudden

anguish, I will essay the task. 15

“Broken by war and foiled by destiny, the chiefs of the

Danaans, now that the flying years were numbering so

many, build a horse of mountain size, by the inspiration of

Pallas’ skill, and interlace its ribs with planks of fir. A

vow for their safe journey home is the pretext: such the 20

fame that spreads. In this they secretly enclose chosen

men of sinew, picked out by lot, in the depth of its sides,

and fill every corner of those mighty caverns, the belly of

the monster, with armed warriors.

“In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an island of wide-spread 25

renown, powerful and rich while Priam’s empire yet was,

now a mere bay, a treacherous roadstead for ships. Thus

far they sail out, and hide themselves on the forsaken

coast. We thought them gone off with a fair wind for

Mycenæ. And so all Trojan land shakes off the agony of 30

years. Open fly the gates; what pleasure to go and see the

Dorian camp, and the places deserted, and the shore forsaken!

Yes, here were the troops of the Dolopes; here

the tent of that savage Achilles; here the ships were drawn

up; here they used to set the battle in array. Some of 5

us are standing agaze at the fatal offering to the virgin

goddess, and wondering at the hugeness of the horse;

and Thymœtes takes the lead, urging to have it dragged

within the walls, and lodged in the citadel, either with

treasonable intent, or that the fate of Troy had begun to 10

set that way. But Capys, and the men of saner judgment,

bid us send this snare of the Danaans, this suspicious present,

headlong into the sea, or light a fire under and burn

it; or, if not that, to pierce and probe that hollow womb

that might hide so much. The populace, unstable as 15

ever, divides off into opposite factions.

“Throwing himself before all, with a great crowd at his

back, Laocoon,[124] all on fire, comes running down the steep

of the citadel, crying in the distance, ‘What strange

madness is this, my unhappy countrymen? Think you 20

that the enemy has sailed off, or that a Danaan could ever

make a present that had no treachery in it? Is this your

knowledge of Ulysses? Either the Achæans are shut up

and hiding in this piece of wood, or it is an engine framed

against our walls, to command the houses and come down 25

on the city from above, or there is some other secret trick.

Men of Troy, put no faith in the horse. Whatever it be,

I fear a Greek even with a gift in his hand.’ With these

words he hurled a mighty spear with all his force against

the beast’s side, the jointed arch of its belly. It lodged, 30

and stood quivering; the womb shook again, and an echo

and a groan rang hollow from its caverns; and, then,

had but heaven’s destiny and man’s judgment been unwarped,

he had led us to carry sword and havoc into the

Argive lurking-place, and Troy would now be standing, 35

and thou, Priam’s tall fortress, still in being.

“Meanwhile, see! some Dardan shepherds are dragging

with loud shouts before the king a young man with his

hands tied behind him, who had thrown himself, a stranger,

across their way, to compass this very thing, and thus

let the Achæans into Troy—bold of heart, and ready for

either issue, either to play off his stratagem, or to meet

inevitable death. From all sides, in eager curiosity, 5

the Trojan youth come streaming round, vying in their

insults to the prisoner. Now then, listen, to the tale of

Danaan fraud, and from one act of guilt learn what the

whole nation is. There as he stood, with all eyes bent on

him, bewildered, defenceless, and looked round on the 10

Phrygian bands, ’ Alas!’ he cries, ‘where is there a

spot of earth or sea that will give me shelter now? or what

last resource is left for a wretch like me—one who has no

place among the Danaans to hide my head—while the

children of Dardanus no less are in arms against me, 15

crying for bloody vengeance?’ At that piteous cry our

mood was changed, and every outrage checked. We

encourage him to speak—to tell us what his parentage

is; what his business; what he has to rest on as a prisoner.

‘All, my lord, shall be avowed to you truly, whatever 20

be the issue. I will not deny that I am an Argive by

nation; this to begin with. Nor if Fortune has made a

miserable man out of Sinon, shall her base schooling

make him deceiver and liar as well. If haply in talk your

ears ever caught the name of Palamedes, of the house of 25

Belus, and his wide-spread renown—his, whom under

false accusation, an innocent man, charged by the blackest

calumny, all because his voice was against the war,

the Pelasgians sent down to death, and now, when he is

laid in darkness, lament him too late—know that it was 30

as his comrade and near kinsman I was sent by a needy

father to a soldier’s life in earliest youth. While he stood

with his royal state unimpaired, an honoured member of

the kingly council, I, too, enjoyed my measure of name

and dignity; but after the jealousy of false Ulysses—you 35

know the tale—removed him from this upper clime—dashed

from my height, I dragged on life in darkness and

sorrow, and vented to my own heart my rage at the disaster

of my innocent friend. Nor did I keep silence—madman

that I was! No, if ever the chance were given

me—if ever I came back with glory to my native Argos—I

vowed myself his avenger, and my words stirred up

bitter enmity. From that time my ruin began; from that 5

time Ulysses was ever threatening me with some new

charge, ever scattering abroad words of mystery, and looking

for allies to plot with. Nor did he rest till by Calchas’[125]

agency—but why recall this unwelcome story with no

end to gain? Why waste your time, if you hold all Achæans 10

alike, and to hear that is to hear enough? Take the

vengeance you should have taken long ago. It is just

what would please the Ithacan, and earn a large reward

from the sons of Atreus!’[126]

“This makes us burn, indeed, to explore and inquire into 15

the reason of his tale, not knowing that crime could be so

monstrous, and Pelasgian art so cunning. He resumes, in

faltering tones, spoken from his false heart:—

“‘Often have the Danaans designed to turn their back

on Troy and accomplish a retreat, and abandon the war 20

that had wearied them so long; and would they had done

it! As often has the fierce inclemency of the deep barred

their purpose, and the south wind frightened them from

sailing. Especially, when this horse was set up at last, a

compacted mass of maple planks, the thunder of the storm-clouds 25

was heard the whole firmament over. In our

perplexity we send Eurypylus to inquire of Phœbus’[127]

oracle, and this is the gloomy message that he brings back

from the shrine: “With blood it was ye appeased the winds,

even with a maiden’s slaughter, when first ye came, Danaans, 30

to the shore of Ilion. With blood it is ye must buy

your return, and propitiate heaven by the life of an Argive!”

Soon as the news reached the public ear, every

mind was cowed, and a cold shudder thrilled the depth of

every heart. For whom has Fate a summons? Whom does 35

Apollo demand as his prey? And now the Ithacan, with

boisterous vehemence, drags forward the prophet Calchas,

insists on knowing what that announcement of heaven’s

will may mean; and many even then were the prophetic

mouths that warned me of the trickster’s cruel villany,

and many the eyes that silently foresaw the future. Ten

days the seer holds his peace, and keeps his tent, refusing

to utter a word that should, disclose any name or sacrifice 5

any life. At last, goaded by the Ithacan’s vehement

clamour, he breaks into a concerted utterance, and dooms

me to the altar. All assented, well content that the danger

which each feared for himself should be directed to the

extinction of one poor wretch. And now the day of horror 10

was come; all was being ready for my sacrifice—the

salt cakes for the fire, and the fillet to crown my brow—when

I escaped, I own it, from death, and broke my

bonds, and hid myself that night in a muddy marsh in the

covert of the rushes, while they should be sailing, in the 15

faint hope that they had sailed. My old country, I

never expect to see it again, nor my darling children, and

the father I have longed so for! No! they are likely

to visit them with vengeance for my escape, and expiate

this guilt of mine by taking their poor lives. O! by the 20

gods above, and the powers that know when truth is

spoken, if there is yet abiding anywhere among men such

a thing as unsullied faith, I conjure you, have pity on this

weight of suffering, have pity on a soul that is unworthily

borne down!’ 25

“Such a tearful appeal gains him his life, and our compassion

too. Priam himself is first to bid them relieve the

man of his manacles and the chains that bound him, and

addresses him in words of kindness. ‘Whoever you are,

from this time forth have done with the Greeks, and forget 30

them. I make you my man, and bid you answer truly

the questions I shall put. What do they mean by setting

up this huge mountain of a horse? Who was the prompter

of it? What is their object? Some religious offering, or

some engine of war?’ 35

“Thus Priam: the prisoner, with all his Pelasgian craft

and cunning about him, raised his unfettered hands to the

stars:—

“‘You, eternal fires, with your inviolable majesty, be

my witnesses; you, altars and impious swords, from which

I fled; and you, hallowed fillets, which I wore for the sacrifice!

I am free to break all the sacred ties that bound me

to the Greeks. I am free to treat them as my foes, and 5

disclose all their secrets to the light of day, all the claims

of the land of my birth notwithstanding. Only do thou

abide by thy plighted word, and preserve faith with thy

preserver, land of Troy, if he tells thee true, and makes

thee large returns. 10

“‘The strength of the Danaan hopes, and the soul of

their confidence in the war they plunged into, has ever

been the aid of Pallas. From the time when Tydeus’ impious

son and Ulysses, that coiner of villany, dared to

drag away from her hallowed temple the fateful Palladium,[128] 15

slaughtering the guards who watched the citadel’s

height, thenceforth there was an ebb and a backsliding in

the Danaan hopes, their forces shattered, the goddess estranged.

Nor were the portents dubious that betokened

Tritonia’s change of mood. Scarce was the image lodged 20

in the camp, when flashing fire glowed in her uplifted eyes,

and salt sweat trickled over her frame, and thrice of herself

she leaped from the ground, marvellous to relate, shield

and quivering lance and all. Forthwith Calchas sounds

the note for flight over the perilous deep, for that Pergamus 25

can never be razed by Argive steel, unless they go to

Argos for fresh omens, and bring back the divine aid

which their crooked keels bore with them aforetime over

the sea. And now this their voyage home to Mycenæ is

to get new forces and gods to sail with them; they will re-cross 30

the deep, and come upon you unforeseen. Such is

Calchas’ scanning of the omens. As for this image, he

warned them to set it up in exchange for the Palladium,

and, in expiation of injured deity, to atone for their fatal

crime. Calchas, however, bade them raise it to the vast 35

height you see, knitting plank to plank, till it was brought

near to heaven, that it might not be admitted at the gates

or dragged within the walls, and thus restore to the people

the bulwark of their old worship. For if your hand should

profane Minerva’s offering, then (said he) a mighty destruction—may

the gods turn the omen on his head ere

it falls on yours!—would come on the empire of Priam

and the Phrygian nation; but if these hands of yours 5

should help it to scale your city’s height, Asia would roll

the mighty tide of invasion on the walls of Pelops,[129] and

our posterity would have to meet the fate he threatened.’

“Such was the stratagem—the cursed art of perjured

Sinon—that gained credence for the tale; and such the 10

victory won over us by wiles and constrained tears—over

us, whom not Tydeus’ son, nor Achilles of Larissa,

nor ten years of war subdued, nor a fleet of a thousand

sail.

“And now another object, greater and far more terrible, 15

is forced on my poor countrymen, to the confusion of their

unprophetic souls. Laocoon, drawn by lot as Neptune’s

priest, was sacrificing a mighty bull at the wonted altar—when

behold from Tenedos, over the still deep—I

shudder as I recount the tale—two serpents coiled in vast 20

circles are seen breasting the sea, and moving side by side

towards the shore. Their breasts rise erect among the

waves; their manes, of blood-red hue, tower over the

water, the rest of them floats behind on the main, trailing

a huge undulating length; the brine foams and dashes 25

about them; they are already on shore, in the plain—with

their glowing eyes bloodshot and fiery, and their

forked tongues playing in their hissing mouths. We fly

all ways in pale terror: they, in an unswerving column,

make for Laocoon, and first each serpent folds round one 30

of his two sons, clasping the youthful body, and greedily

devouring the poor limbs. Afterwards, as the father comes

to the rescue, weapon in hand, they fasten on him and lash

their enormous spires tight round him—and now twice

folded round his middle, twice embracing his neck with 35

their scaly length, they tower over him with uplifted head

and crest. He is straining with agonizing clutch to pull

the knots asunder, his priestly fillets all bedewed with gore

and black poison, and raising all the while dreadful cries

to heaven—like the bellowing, when a wounded bull darts

away from the altar, dashing off from his neck the ill-aimed

axe. But the two serpents escape glidingly to the

temple top, making for the height where ruthless Tritonia 5

is enthroned, and there shelter themselves under the goddess’s

feet and the round of her shield. Then, indeed,

every breast is cowed and thrilled through by a new and

strange terror—every voice cries that Laocoon has been

duly punished for his crime, profaning the sacred wood 10

with his weapon’s point, and hurling his guilty lance

against the back of the steed. Let the image be drawn

to her temple, and let prayer be made to the goddess, is

the general cry—we break through the walls and open

the town within. All gird them to the work, putting 15

wheels to run easily under its feet, and throwing lengths

of hempen tie round its neck. It scales the walls, that

fateful engine, with its armed brood—boys and unwedded

girls, standing about it, chant sacred hymns, delighted to

touch the rope. In it moves, rolling with threatening brow 20

into the heart of the city. O my country! O Ilion,

home of the gods! O ye, Dardan towers, with your martial

fame! Yes—four times on the gateway’s very threshold

it stopped, four times the arms rattled in its womb.

On, however, we press, unheeding, in the blindness of our 25

frenzy, and lodge the ill-starred portent in our hallowed

citadel. Even then Cassandra[130] unseals to speak of future

fate those lips which by the god’s command no Trojan

ever believed—while we, alas! we, spend the day that

was to be our last in crowning the temples of the gods 30

with festal boughs the whole city through.

“Meantime round rolls the sky, and on comes night from

the ocean, wrapping in its mighty shade earth and heaven

and Myrmidon wiles: through the city the Trojans are

hushed in careless repose, their tired limbs in the arms of 35

sleep. Already was the Argive host on its way from Tenedos,

through the friendly stillness of the quiet moon,

making for the well-known shore, when see! the royal

ship mounts its fire signal, and Sinon, sheltered by heaven’s

partial decree, stealthily sets at large the Danaans, hid in

that treacherous womb, and opens the pine-wood door:

they as the horse opens are restored to upper air, and leap

forth with joy from the hollow timber, Thessander and 5

Sthenelus leading the way, and the dreaded Ulysses, gliding

down the lowered rope, and Achamas and Thoas, and

Neoptolemus of Peleus’ line, and first Machaon, and Menelaus,

and the framer of the cheat himself, Epeus. They

rush on the town as it lies drowned in sleep and revelry. 10

The watchers are put to the sword, the gates thrown open,

and all are welcoming their comrades, and uniting with

the conspiring bands.

“It was just the time when first slumber comes to heal

human suffering, stealing on men by heaven’s blessing 15

with balmiest influence. Lo! as I slept, before my eyes

Hector,[131] in deepest sorrow, seemed to be standing by me,

shedding rivers of tears—mangled from dragging at the

car, as I remember him of old, and black with gory dust,

and with his swollen feet bored by the thong. Ay me! 20

what a sight was there! what a change from that Hector

of ours, who comes back to us clad in the spoils of Achilles,

or from hurling Phrygian fire on Danaan vessels! with

stiffened beard and hair matted with blood, and those

wounds fresh about him, which fell on him so thickly 25

round his country’s walls. Methought I addressed him

first with tears like his own, fetching from my breast the

accents of sorrow—‘O light of Dardan land, surest hope

that Trojans ever had! What delay has kept you so long?

From what clime is the Hector of our longings returned 30

to us at last? O the eyes with which, after long months

of death among your people, months of manifold suffering

to Troy and her sons, spent and weary, we look upon you

now! What unworthy cause has marred the clear beauty

of those features, or why do I behold these wounds?’ 35

He answers nought, and gives no idle heed to my vain

inquiries, but with a deep sigh, heaved from the bottom

of his heart—‘Ah! fly, goddess-born!’ cries he, ‘and

escape from these flames—the walls are in the enemy’s

hand—Troy is tumbling from its summit—the claims

of country and king are satisfied—if Pergamus could be

defended by force of hand, it would have been defended

by mine, in my day. Your country’s worship and her 5

gods are what she entrusts to you now—take them to

share your destiny—seek for them a mighty city, which

you shall one day build when you have wandered the

ocean over.’ With these words he brings out Queen Vesta[132]

with her fillets and the ever-burning fire from the secret 10

shrine.

“Meanwhile the city in its various quarters is being convulsed

with agony—and ever more and more, though my

father Anchises’ palace was retired in the privacy of embosoming

trees, the sounds deepen, and the alarm of 15

battle swells. I start up from sleep, mount the sloping

roof, and stand intently listening—even as, when among

standing corn a spark falls with a fierce south wind to

fan it, or the impetuous stream of a mountain torrent

sweeps the fields, sweeps the joyous crops and the bullocks’ 20

toil, and drives the woods headlong before it, in

perplexed amazement a shepherd takes in the crash from

a rock’s tall summit. Then, indeed, all doubt was over,

and the wiles of the Danaans stood confessed. Already

Deiphobus’ palace has fallen with a mighty overthrow 25

before the mastering fire-god—already his neighbour

Ucalegon is in flames—the expanse of the Sigean sea

shines again with the blaze. Up rises at once the shouting

of men and the braying of trumpets. To arms I rush

in frenzy.—not that good cause is shown for arms—but 30

to muster a troop for fight, and run to the citadel with

my comrades is my first burning impulse—madness and

rage drive my mind headlong, and I think how glorious to

die with arms in my hand.

“But see! Panthus, escaped from an Achæan volley, 35

Panthus, Othrys’ son, priest of Phœbus in the citadel,

comes dragging along with his own hand the vanquished

gods of his worship and his young grandchild, and making

distractedly for my door. ‘How goes the day, Panthus?

What hold have we of the citadel?’ The words

were scarcely uttered when with a groan he replies, ‘It is

come, the last day, the inevitable hour—on Dardan land

no more Trojans; no more of Ilion, and the great renown 5

of the sons of Teucer; Jove, in his cruelty, has carried all

over to Argos; the town is on fire, and the Danaans are

its masters. There, planted high in the heart of the city,

the horse is pouring out armed men, and Sinon is flinging

about fire in the insolence of conquest; some are 10

crowding into the unfolded gates—thousands, many as

ever came from huge Mycenæ: some are blocking up the

narrow streets, with weapons pointed at all comers; the

sharp steel with its gleaming blade stands drawn, ready

for slaughter; hardly, even on the threshold, the sentinels 15

of the gates are attempting resistance, in a struggle where

the powers of war are blind.’

“At these words of the son of Othrys, and heaven’s

will thus expressed, I plunge into the fire and the battle,

following the war-fiend’s yell, the din of strife, and the 20

shout that rose to the sky. There join me Rhipeus and

Epytus, bravest in fight, crossing my way in the moonlight,

as also Hypanis and Dymas, and form at my side;

young Coroebus, too, Mygdon’s son; he happened to be

just then come to Troy, with a frantic passion for Cassandra, 25

and was bringing a son-in-law’s aid to Priam and his

Phrygians—poor boy! to have given no heed to the

warnings of his heaven-struck bride! Seeing them

gathered in a mass and nerved for battle, I begin thereon:—‘Young

hearts, full of unavailing valour, if your desire 30

is set to follow a desperate man, you see what the plight

of our affairs is—gone in a body from shrine and altar

are the gods who upheld this our empire—the city you

succour is a blazing ruin; choose we then death, and rush

we into the thick of the fight. The one safety for vanquished 35

men is to hope for none.’ These words stirred

their young spirits to madness: then, like ravenous wolves

in night’s dark cloud, driven abroad by the blind rage of

lawless hunger, with their cubs left at home waiting their

return with parched jaws, among javelins, among foemen,

on we go with no uncertain fate before us, keeping our

way through the heart of the town, while night flaps over

us its dark, overshadowing wings. Who could unfold in 5

speech the carnage, the horrors of that night, or make his

tears keep pace with our suffering? It is an ancient city,

falling from the height where she queened it many a year;

and heaps of unresisting bodies are lying confusedly in the

streets, in the houses, on the hallowed steps of temples. 10

Nor is it on Teucer’s sons alone that bloody vengeance

lights. There are times when even the vanquished feel

courage rushing back to their hearts, and the conquering

Danaans fall. Everywhere is relentless agony; everywhere

terror, and the vision of death in many a manifestation. 15

“First of the Danaans, with a large band at his back,

Androgeos crosses our way, taking us for a troop of his

friends in his ignorance, and hails us at once in words of

fellowship: ‘Come, my men, be quick. Why, what sloth 20

is keeping you so late? Pergamus is on fire, and the rest

of us are spoiling and sacking it, and here are you, but

just disembarked from your tall ships.’ He said, and instantly,

for no reply was forthcoming to reassure him, saw

that he had fallen into the thick of the enemy. Struck 25

with consternation, he drew back foot and tongue. Just

as a man who at unawares has trodden on a snake among

thorns and briers in his walk, and recoils at once in sudden

alarm from the angry uplifted crest and the black swelling

neck, so Androgeos, appalled at the sight, was retiring. 30

But we rush on him, and close round, weapons in

hand; and, in their ignorance of the ground, and the

surprise of their terror, they fall before us everywhere.

Fortune smiles on our first encounter. Hereon Coroebus,

flushed with success and daring, ‘Come, my friends,’ he 35

cries, ‘where Fortune at starting directs us to the path of

safety, and reveals herself as our ally, be it ours to follow

on. Let us change shields, and see if Danaan decorations

will fit us. Trick or strength of hand, who, in dealing

with an enemy, asks which? They shall arm us against

themselves.’ So saying, he puts on Androgeos’ crested

helm, and his shield with its goodly device, and fastens

to his side an Argive sword. So does Rhipeus, so Dymas 5

too, and all our company, with youthful exultation, each

arming himself out of the new-won spoils. On we go,

mixing with the Greeks, under auspices not our own, and

many are the combats in which we engage in the blindness

of night, many the Danaans whom we send down to 10

the shades. They fly on all hands: some to the ships,

making at full speed for safety on the shore; others, in

the debasement of terror, climb once more the horse’s

huge sides, and hide themselves in the womb they knew

so well. 15

“Alas! it is not for man to throw himself on the gods

against their will!

“Lo! there was a princess of Priam’s house being

dragged by her dishevelled hair from the temple, from

the very shrine of Minerva, Cassandra, straining her flashing 20

eyes to heaven in vain—her eyes—for those delicate

hands were confined by manacles. The sight was too

much for the infuriate mind of Coroebus: rushing to his

doom, he flung himself into the middle of the hostile force.

One and all, we follow, close our ranks, and fall on. And 25

now, first from the temple’s lofty top we are overwhelmed

by a shower of our own countrymen’s darts, and a most

piteous carnage ensues, all along of the appearance of our

arms and our mistaken Grecian crests. Then the Danaans,

groaning and enraged at the rescue of the maiden, rally 30

from all sides, and fall on us. Ajax, in all his fury, and

the two sons of Atreus, and the whole array of the Dolopes—even

as one day when the tempest is broken loose, and

wind meets wind—west, and south, and east exulting in

his orient steeds—there is crashing in the woods, and 35

Nereus,[133] in a cloud of foam, is plying his ruthless trident,

and stirring up the sea from its very bottom. Such of

the foe, moreover, as in the darkness of night we had

driven routed through, the gloom—thanks to our stratagem—and

scattered the whole city over, rally again:

they are the first to recognize the imposture of shield and

weapon, and to mark the different sound of our speech.

All is over—we are overwhelmed by numbers: first of 5

all, Coroebus is stretched low; his slayer Peneleos, his

place of death the altar of the Goddess of Arms; slain,

too, is Rhipeus, the justest and most righteous man in

Troy—but heaven’s will is not ours—down go Hypanis

and Dymas both, shot by their friends; nor could all 10

your acts of piety, good Panthus, shield you in your fall;

no, nor the fillet of Apollo on your brow. Ye ashes of

Ilion, and thou, funeral fire of those I loved, witness ye

that in your day of doom I shrank from no Danaan dart,

no hand-to-hand encounter; nay, that had my fate been 15

to fall, my hand had earned it well. We are parted from

the rest, Iphitus, Pelias, and I. Iphitus, a man on whom

years were already pressing; Pelias, crippled by a wound

from Ulysses—all three summoned by the shouting to

Priam’s palace. 20

“Here, indeed, the conflict was gigantic—just as if the

rest of the war were nowhere—as if none were dying in the

whole city beside: even such was the sight we saw—the

war-god raging untamed, the Danaans streaming up to the

roof, the door blockaded by a long penthouse of shields. 25

The scaling ladders are clasping the walls; close to the very

door men are climbing, with their left hands presenting

the buckler to shelter them from darts, while with their

right they are clasping the battlements. The Dardans,

on their part, are tearing up from the palace turret and 30

roof—such the weapons with which, in their dire extremity,

in the last death-struggle, they make ready for their

defence—gilded rafters, the stately ornaments of elder

days, they are hurling down; while others, their swords

drawn, are stationed at the doors at the bottom, and 35

guarding them in close array. The fire revived within

me, to bring succour to the royal roof, and relieve those

brave men, and breathe new daring into the vanquished.

“A door there was, a hidden entrance, a thoroughfare

through Priam’s palace, a postern which you leave in the

rear; by it the hapless Andromache,[134] while yet the throne

was standing, used often to repair unattended to her husband’s 5

parents, and pull the boy Astyanax into his grandsire’s

presence. Through it I make my way to the summit

of the roof, whence the wretched Teucrians were hurling

darts without avail. There was a tower standing precipitous,

its roof reared high to the stars, whence could be

seen all Troy, and the Danaan fleet, and the Achæan camp; 10

to this we applied our weapons, just where the lofty flooring

made the joining insecure; we wrench it from its eminence,

we have toppled it over—down it falls at once, a huge

crashing ruin, and tumbles far and wide over the Danaan

ranks. But others fill their place; while stones and every 15

kind of missile keep raining unabated.

“There in the entry, at the very gate, is Pyrrhus[135] in his

glory, gleaming with spear and sword, and with all the

brilliance of steel. Even as against the daylight a serpent

gorged with baleful herbage, whom winter’s cold of late 20

was keeping swollen underground, now, his skin shed, in

new life and in the beauty of youth, rears his breast erect,

and wreathes his shining scales, towering to the sun, and

flashes in his mouth his three-forked tongue. With him

gigantic Periphas and Automedon, his armour-bearer, 25

once Achilles’ charioteer, with him the whole chivalry

of Scyros press to the walls, and hurl up fire to the roof.

Himself among the foremost, a two-edged axe in hand,

is bursting through the stubborn door and forcing from

their hinges the valves copper-sheathed; see! now he has 30

cut out a plank and delved into that stout heart of oak,

and made a wide gaping window in the middle. There is

seen the house within, and the long vista of the hall;

there is seen the august retirement of Priam and the

monarchs of past days, and armed warriors are disclosed 35

standing in the entrance.

“But the palace within is a confused scene of shrieking

and piteous disorder; the vaulted chambers wail from

their hollow depths with female lamentation; the noise

strikes the golden stars above. The terror-stricken matrons

are running to and fro through the spacious courts, clinging

claspingly to the gates and printing them with kisses.

On presses Pyrrhus with all his father’s might; neither 5

barrier of oak nor yet living guard can resist him; the

door gives way under the thick strokes of the battery,

and the valves are torn from their hinges and brought

down. Force finds its way; the Danaans burst a passage,

rush in, and slaughter those they meet, and the whole 10

wide space is flooded with soldiers. With far less fury,

when the river, all foam, has broken the prison of its banks

and streamed with triumphant tide over the barriers set

to check it, down it comes tumbling along the corn-fields,

and along the whole country sweeps away herd and stall. 15

With my own eyes I saw Neoptolemus, mad with carnage,

and the two Atridæ on the palace-floor. I saw Hecuba[136]

and her hundred daughters-in-law, and Priam at the

altar, polluting with his blood the flames he had himself

made holy. Those fifty marriage-chambers, the splendid 20

promise of children’s children, doors gorgeous with barbaric

gold and plundered treasure, all sank in dust. Where

the fire flags, the Danaans are masters.

“Perhaps, too, you may be curious to hear the fate of

Priam. When he saw his city fallen and captured, the 25

doors of his palace burst open, the foe in the heart of his

home’s sanctuary, poor old man! helplessly and hopelessly

he puts about his shoulders, trembling with age,

his armour, long disused, and girds on his unavailing sword,

and is going to his doom among the thick of the foe. In 30

the midst of the palace, under the naked height of the sky,

stood a great altar, and by it a bay tree of age untold,

leaning over the altar and enfolding the household gods

in its shade. Here about the altar Hecuba and her

daughters, all helpless, like doves driven headlong down 35

by a murky tempest, huddled together and clinging to

the statues of the gods, were sitting. But when she saw

Priam—yes, Priam—wearing the arms of his youth—‘What

monstrous thought,’ cries she, ‘my most wretched

spouse, has moved you to gird on these weapons? or to

what are you hurrying? It is not help like this, not protections

like those you wear, that the crisis needs. No,

not even if my lost Hector were now at our side. Come, 5

join us here at last; this altar shall be a defence for us all,

or we will die together.’ With these words she took him

to where she was, and lodged his aged frame in the hallowed

resting-place.

“But, see! here is Polites, one of Priam’s sons escaped 10

from Pyrrhus’ murderous hand, through showers of darts

and masses of foemen, flying down the long corridors and

traversing the empty courts, sore and wounded, while

Pyrrhus, all on fire, is pursuing him, with a deadly stroke,

his hand all but grasping him, his spear close upon him. 15

Just as at last he won his way into the view and presence of

his parents, down he fell and poured out his life in a gush of

blood. Hereon Priam, though hemmed in by death on

all sides, could not restrain himself, or control voice and

passion. ‘Aye,’ cries he, ‘for a crime, for an outrage like 20

this, may the gods, if there is any sense of right in heaven

to take cognizance of such deeds, give you the full thanks

you merit, and pay you your due reward; you, who have

made me look with my own eyes on my son’s death, and

stained a father’s presence with the sight of blood. But 25

he whom your lying tongue calls your sire, Achilles, dealt

not thus with Priam his foe—he had a cheek that could

crimson at a suppliant’s rights, a suppliant’s honour.

Hector’s lifeless body he gave back to the tomb, and sent

me home to my realms in peace.’ So said the poor old 30

man, and hurled at him a dart unwarlike, unwounding,

which the ringing brass at once shook off, and left hanging

helplessly from the end of the shield’s boss. Pyrrhus

retorts: ‘You shall take your complaint, then, and carry

your news to my father, Pelides. Tell, him about my 35

shocking deeds, about his degenerate Neoptolemus,

and do not forget. Now die.’ With these words he

dragged him to the very altar, palsied and sliding in a pool

of his son’s blood, wreathed his left hand in his hair, and

with his right flashed forth and sheathed in his side the

sword to the hilt. Such was the end of Priam’s fortunes,

such the fatal lot that fell upon him, with Troy blazing

and Pergamus in ruins before his eyes—upon him, once 5

the haughty ruler of those many nations and kingdoms,

the sovereign lord of Asia! There he lies on the shore,

a gigantic trunk, a head severed from the shoulders, a

body without a name.

“Now, for the first time grim horror prisoned me round—I 10

was wildered—there rose up the image of my dear

father, as I saw the king, his fellow in age, breathing out

his life through that ghastly wound. There rose up Creusa[137]

unprotected, my house, now plundered, and the chance to

which I had left my little Iulus. I cast my eyes back and 15

look about to see what strength there is round me. All

had forsaken me, too tired to stay; they had leapt to the

ground, or dropped helplessly into the flames. And now

I was there alone. When lodged in the temple of Vesta,

and crouching mutely in its darkest recess, the daughter of 20

Tyndareus[138] meets my eye; the brilliant blaze gives light

to my wandering feet and ranging glance. Yes, she in her

guilty fears, dreading at once the Teucrians whom the

overthrow of Pergamus had made her foes, and the vengeance

of the Danaans, and the wrath of the husband she 25

abandoned—she, the common fiend of Troy and of her

country, had hid herself away, and was sitting in hateful

solitude at the altar. My spirit kindled into flame—a

fury seized me to avenge my country in its fall, and to do

justice on a wretch. ‘So she is to see Sparta and her 30

native Mycenæ again in safety, and is to move as a queen

in a triumph of her own? She is to look upon her lord

and her old home, her children and her parents, with a

crowd of our Trojan ladies and Phrygian captives to wait

on her? Shall it be for this that Priam has died by the 35

sword, that Troy has been burnt with fire, that the Dardan

shore has gushed so oft with the sweat of blood? No,

never—for though there are no proud memories to be

won by vengeance on a woman, no laurels to be reaped from

a conquest like this, yet the extinction of so base a life

and the exaction of vengeance so merited will count as a

praise, and it will be a joy to have glutted my spirit with

the flame of revenge and slaked the thirsty ashes of those 5

I love.’ Such were the wild words I was uttering, such

the impulse of my infuriate heart, when suddenly there

appeared to me, brighter than I had ever seen her before,

and shone forth in clear radiance through the night, my

gracious mother, all her deity confessed, with the same 10

mien and stature by which she is known to the dwellers

in heaven. She seized me by the hand and stayed me,

seconding her action with these words from her roseate

lips; ‘My son, what mighty agony is it that stirs up

this untamed passion? What means your frenzy? or 15

whither has fled your care for me? Will you not first see

where you have left your father Anchises, spent with age

as he is? whether your wife, Creusa, be yet alive, and

your child, Ascanius? All about them the Grecian armies

are ranging to and fro, and were not my care exerted to 20

rescue them, ere this they had been snatched by the flame,

devoured by the foeman’s sword. It is not the hated

beauty of the daughter of Tyndareus, the Spartan woman—not

the reviled Paris. No, it is heaven, unpitying

heaven that is overturning this great empire and levelling 25

Troy from its summit. See here—for I will take away

wholly the cloud whose veil, cast over your eyes, dulls

your mortal vision and darkles round you damp and

thick—do you on your part shrink in naught from your

mother’s commands, nor refuse to obey the instructions 30

she gives. Here, where you see huge masses rent asunder,

and stones wrenched from stones, and blended torrents

of smoke and dust, is Neptune with his mighty trident

shaking the walls and upheaving the very foundations;

here is Juno, cruellest of foes, posted at the entry of the 35

Scæan gate, and summoning in tones of fury from the

ships her confederate band, herself girt with steel like them.

Look behind you—there is Tritonian Pallas, seated already

on the summit of our towers, in the lurid glare of

her storm-cloud and grim Gorgon’s head. The great

Father himself is nerving the Danaans with courage and

strength for victory—himself leading the gods against

our Dardan forces. Come, my son, catch at flight while 5

you may and bring the struggle to an end. I will not leave

you, till I have set you in safety at your father’s door.’

She had ceased, and veiled herself at once in night’s

thickest shadows. I see a vision of awful shapes—mighty

presences of gods arrayed against Troy. 10

“Then, indeed, I beheld all Ilion sinking into flame, and

Neptune’s city, Troy, overturned from its base. Even as

an ancient ash on the mountain-top, which woodmen have

hacked with steel and repeated hatchet strokes, and are

trying might and main to dislodge—it keeps nodding 15

menacingly, its leafy head palsied and shaken, till at

last, gradually overborne by wound after wound, it has

given its death-groan, and fallen uprooted in ruined

length along the hill. I come down, and, following my

heavenly guide, thread my way through flames and foemen, 20

while weapons glance aside and flames retire.

“Now when at last I had reached the door of my father’s

house, that old house I knew so well, my sire, whom it

was my first resolve to carry away high up the hills—who

was the first object I sought—refuses to survive the 25

razing of Troy and submit to banishment. ‘You, whose

young blood is untainted, whose strength is firmly based

and self-sustained, it is for you to think of flight. For me,

had the dwellers in heaven willed me to prolong my life,

they would have preserved for me my home. It is enough 30

and more than enough to have witnessed one sack, to

have once outlived the capture of my city. Here, O

here as I lie, bid farewell to my corpse and begone. I will

find me a warrior’s death. The enemy will have mercy on

me, and my spoils will tempt him. The loss of a tomb 35

will fall on me lightly. Long, long have I been a clog on

time, hated of heaven and useless to earth, from the day

when the father of gods and sovereign of men blasted me

with the wind of his lightning, and laid on me the finger

of flame.’[139]

“Such the words he kept on repeating and continued

unshaken, while we were shedding our hearts in tears—Creusa,

my wife, and Ascanius and my whole house, 5

imploring my father not to be bent on dragging

all with him to ruin, and lending his weight to the avalanche

of destiny. But he refuses, and will not be moved

from his purpose or his home. Once more I am plunging

into battle, and choosing death in the agony of my 10

wretchedness—for what could wisdom or fortune do

for me now? What, my father? that I could stir a step

to escape, leaving you behind? was this your expectation?

could aught so shocking fall from a parent’s lips? No—if

it is the will of heaven that naught of this mighty city 15

should be spared—if your purpose is fixed, and you find

pleasure in throwing yourself and yours on Troy’s blazing

pile, the door stands open for the death you crave. Pyrrhus

will be here in a moment, fresh from bathing in

Priam’s blood—Pyrrhus, who butchers the son before the 20

father’s face, who butchers the father at the altar. Gracious

mother! was it for this that thou rescuest me from fire and

sword—all that I may see the foe in the heart of my

home’s sanctuary—may see my Ascanius, and my father,

and my Creusa by them sacrificed in a pool of each other’s 25

blood? My arms, friends, bring me my arms! the call

of the day of death rings in the ears of the conquered.

Give me back to the Danaans, let me return and renew the

combat. Never shall this day see us all slaughtered unresisting. 30

“Now I gird on my sword again, and was buckling and

fitting my shield to my left arm, and making my way out

of the house—when lo! my wife on the threshold began

to clasp and cling to my feet, holding out my little Iulus to

his father. ‘If it is to death you are going, then carry us 35

with you to death and all, but if experience gives you any

hope in the arms you are resuming, let your first stand be

made at your home. To whom, think you, are you leaving

your little Iulus—your father, and me who was once

styled your wife?’

“Thus she was crying, while her moaning filled the

house, when a portent appears, sudden and marvellous to

relate. Even while the hands and eyes of his grieving 5

parents were upon him, lo, a flickering tongue of flame

on the top of Iulus’ head was seen to shoot out light,

playing round his soft curly locks with innocuous contact

and pasturing about his temples. We are all hurry and

alarm, shaking out his blazing hair and quenching the 10

sacred fire with water from the spring—but Anchises

my father raised his eyes in ecstasy to heaven, directing

hand and voice to the stars: ‘Almighty Jove, if any

prayer can bow thy will, look down on us—’tis all I crave—and

if our piety have earned requital, grant us thy 15

succour, father, and ratify the omen we now see.’ Scarce

had the old man spoken, when there came a sudden peal

of thunder on the left, and a star fell from heaven and

swept through the gloom with a torchlike train and a

blaze of light. Over the top of the house we see it pass, 20

and mark its course along the sky till it buries itself lustrously

in Ida’s wood—then comes a long furrowed line

of light, and a sulphurous smoke fills the space all about.

Then at length overcome, my father raises himself towards

the sky, addresses the gods, and does reverence to the 25

sacred meteor: ‘No more, no more delay from me. I

follow your guidance, and am already in the way by which

you would lead me. Gods of my country! preserve my

house, preserve my grandchild. Yours in this augury—your

shield is stretched over Troy. Yes, my son, I 30

give way, and shrink not from accompanying your flight.’

He said—and by this the blaze is heard louder and louder

through the streets, and the flames roll their hot volumes

nearer. ‘Come then, dear father, take your seat on my

back, my shoulders shall support you, nor shall I feel the 35

task a burden. Fall things as they may, we twain will

share the peril, share the deliverance. Let my little Iulus

walk by my side, while my wife follows our steps at a

distance. You, our servants, attend to what I now say.

As you leave the city there is a mound, where stands an

ancient temple of Ceres all alone, and by it an old cypress,

observed these many years by the reverence of our sires.

This shall be our point of meeting in one place from 5

many quarters. You, my father, take in your hand these

sacred things, our country’s household gods. For me, just

emerged from this mighty war, with the stains of carnage

fresh upon me, it were sacrilege to touch them, till I

have cleansed me in the running stream.’ 10

“So saying, I spread out my shoulders, bow my neck,

cover them with a robe, a lion’s tawny hide, and take up

the precious burden. My little Iulus has fastened his

hand in mine, and is following his father with ill-matched

steps, my wife comes on behind. On we go, keeping in the 15

shade—and I, who erewhile quailed not for a moment at

the darts that rained upon me or at the masses of Greeks

that barred my path, now am scared by every breath of air,

startled by every sound, fluttered as I am, and fearing alike

for him who holds my hand and him I carry. And now I 20

was nearing the gates, and the whole journey seemed accomplished,

when suddenly the noise of thick trampling

feet came to my ear, and my father looks onward through

the darkness. ‘Son, son,’ he cries, ‘fly: they are upon

us. I distinguish the flashing of their shields and the 25

gleam of their steel.’ In this alarm some unfriendly

power perplexed and took away my judgment. For,

while I was tracking places where no track was, and

swerving from the wonted line of road, woe is me! destiny

tore from me my wife Creusa. Whether she stopped, 30

or strayed from the road, or sat down fatigued, I never

knew—nor was she ever restored to my eyes in life.

Nay, I did not look back to discover my loss, or turn my

thoughts that way till we had come to the mound and

temple of ancient Ceres; then at last, when all were 35

mustered, she alone was missing, and failed those who

should have travelled with her, her son and husband both.

Whom of gods or men did my upbraiding voice spare?

what sight in all the ruin of the city made my heart bleed

more? Ascanius and Anchises my father and the Teucrian

household gods I give to my comrades’ care, and lodge

them in the winding glade. I repair again to the city

and don my shining armour. My mind is set to try every 5

hazard again, and retrace my path through the whole of

Troy, and expose my life to peril once more. First

I repair again to the city walls, and the gate’s dark entry

by which I had passed out. I track and follow my footsteps

back through the night, and traverse the ground 10

with my eye. Everywhere my sense is scared by the

horror, scared by the very stillness. Next I betake me

home, in the hope, the faint hope that she may have turned

her steps thither. The Danaans had broken in and were

lodged in every chamber. All is over—the greedy flame 15

is wafted by the wind to the roof, the fire towers triumphant—the

glow streams madly heavenwards. I pass

on, and look again at Priam’s palace and the citadel. There

already in the empty cloisters, yes, in Juno’s sanctuary,

chosen guards, Phœnix and Ulysses the terrible, were 20

watching the spoil. Here are gathered the treasures of

Troy torn from blazing shrines, tables of gods, bowls of

solid gold, and captive vestments in one great heap. Boys

and mothers stand trembling all about in long array.

“Nay, I was emboldened even to fling random cries 25

through the darkness. I filled the streets with shouts, and

in my agony called again and again on my Creusa with unavailing

iteration. As I was thus making my search and

raving unceasingly the whole city through, the hapless

shade, the spectre of my own Creusa appeared in my 30

presence—a likeness larger than the life. I was aghast,

my hair stood erect, my tongue clove to my mouth, while

she began to address me thus, and relieve my trouble

with words like these: ‘Whence this strange pleasure

in indulging frantic grief, my darling husband? It is 35

not without Heaven’s will that these things are happening:

that you should carry your Creusa with you on your journey

is forbidden by fate, forbidden by the mighty ruler

of heaven above. You have long years of exile, a vast

expanse of ocean to traverse—and then you will arrive

at the land of Hesperia, where Tiber, Lydia’s river, rolls

his gentle volumes through rich and cultured plains.

There you have a smiling future, a kingdom and a royal 5

bride waiting your coming. Dry your tears for Creusa,

your heart’s choice though she be. I am not to see the

face of Myrmidons or Dolopes in their haughty homes,

or to enter the service of some Grecian matron—I, a

Dardan princess, daughter by marriage of Venus the immortal. 10

No, I am kept in this country by heaven’s

mighty mother. And now farewell, and continue to love

your son and mine. Thus having spoken, spite of my

tears, spite of the thousand things I longed to say, she left

me and vanished into unsubstantial air. Thrice, as I 15

stood, I essayed to fling my arms round her neck—thrice

the phantom escaped the hands that caught at it in vain—impalpable

as the wind, fleeting as the wings of sleep.

“So passed my night, and such was my return to my

comrades. Arrived there, I find with wonder their band 20

swelled by a vast multitude of new companions, matrons

and warriors both, an army mustered for exile, a crowd

of the wretched. From every side they were met, prepared

in heart as in fortune to follow me over the sea to

any land where I might take them to settle. And now 25

the morning star was rising over Ida’s loftiest ridge

with the day in its train—Danaan sentinels were blocking

up the entry of the gates, and no hope of succour appeared.

I retired at last, took up my father, and made for the

mountains. 30