Two Dramatizations from Vergil: I. Dido—the Phœnecian Queen; II. The Fall of Troy

by Virgil

ACT I

The Fall of Troy

Act I. Scene 1

The plain in front of Troy; the city walls; the sea; and, in the distance, Tenedos. Morning, without the gates. Joyful crowds of men, women, and children pour through the open doors. They gather about the strange wooden horse which stands without, and excitedly inquire what it means, and what shall be done with it. Thymoetes voices the sentiment of one party that it should be taken within the walls and set upon the citadel; while Capys and his adherents urge that they should examine the mystery where it stands, and destroy it. Great confusion reigns. The sentiment of Thymoetes seems about to prevail (26-39).

Enter Laocoön, running, followed by a band of priestly attendants, and shouting while still at some distance.

Laocoön (42-49):

What madness, wretched citizens, is this?

Can you believe your enemies have fled,

Or can you think that any gifts of Greeks

Are innocent of guile? So have you learned

To judge Ulysses? No, within this horse

The crafty Greeks are lying even now,

Or else its towering bulk has been contrived

To give them spying place upon our homes,

Or chance to scale our city’s battlements.

Be sure some dark design is hidden here.

Trust not the horse, my friends; whate’er it is,

I fear the Greeks, though armed with gifts alone.

He hurls his spear, which sticks fast in the wooden horse and stands quivering there.

Scene 2

Enter Trojan shepherds, dragging in a man bound with thongs. They approach the king. The bystanders jibe at and mock the captive. The unknown stands as if bewildered and distraught, and at last cries (69-72):

Where now, alas, can I a refuge find

On land or sea? What chance of life remains

For one who can no longer claim a place

Among the Greeks? and now his bloody death

The vengeful sons of Dardanus demand.

The Trojans in wonder and with growing pity urge him to explain himself. He at last proceeds, having with an apparent effort regained his self control (77-104):

All things and truly will I tell to thee,

O king, whatever comes, nor will I seek

To hide that I am Grecian born. This first;

For though in woe my fate has plunged me deep

It shall not make me false and faithless too.

If any chance report has touched your ears

With Palamedes’ name, great Belus’ son,

Whom, though he was all innocent of guile,

Yet still, because his voice was ever raised

Against the war, by accusations false

The Greeks condemned, and sent to gloomy death;

But whom they now with fruitless grief lament:

To him my sire, while yet the war was young,

By poverty impelled, consigned his son

To serve the prince, by double ties endeared

Of blood and comradeship

While he in power

And in the councils of the kings stood high,

I, too, by his reflected light, enjoyed

Both name and fair renown. But when at last,

Through false Ulysses’ murderous hate and guile,

(I speak what you do know), his death was wrought;

In deep distress, in darkness and in woe

I spent my days, and mourned the hapless fate

Of my poor friend. And, maddened by my grief,

I would not hold my peace, but loudly swore,

That if the fates of war should bring me back

As victor to my native land of Greece,

I should full vengeance take; and by my words

Dire hatred ‘gainst my luckless self I roused.

Here was the fountain source of all my woes;

From now Ulysses, crafty enemy,

Began to spread vague hints among the Greeks,

Prefer strange charges, and to seek some cause

Against me, conscious in his heart of guilt.

Nor did he rest, until by Calchas’ aid—

But why do I rehearse this senseless tale

To heedless ears? Or wherefore should I seek

To stay your hands, if ‘tis enough to hear

That I am Greek, and in your hostile minds

All Greeks are judged alike.

Come, glut your hate

Upon me. For Ulysses would rejoice

To know that I am dead, and Atreus’ sons

Would gladly purchase this with great reward.

Here the stranger pauses in seeming despair and resignation to his fate. The Trojans urge him to go on with his story. He resumes (108-144):

Full oft the Greeks, in utter weariness

Of that long siege, desired to abandon Troy,

And seek their homes again. Oh, that they had!

But whensoe’er they addressed them to the sea,

Rough wintry blasts and storms affrighted them.

And when this horse, of wooden timbers framed,

Completed stood, a votive offering,

The winds from every quarter of the heavens

Howled threateningly. To seek the will of Heaven,

The anxious Greeks despatch Eurypylus

To Phœbus’ oracle. He straight reports

Apollo’s mandate grim and terrible:

“Before, O Greeks, ye sailed to Troia’s shores,

Ye first had need to appease the angry winds

With bloody sacrifice—a maiden’s death

E’en so, by blood must your return be sought;

Again must Grecian life atonement make.”

When this dire oracle among the crowd,

From ear to ear, from lip to lip was spread,

They stood with horror stunned, and chilling fear

Their inmost hearts with dire forebodings filled.

They trembling ask for whom the fates prepare,

Whom does Apollo seek in punishment?

Then comes the Ithacan with clamor loud,

The prophet Calchas dragging in our midst,

And bids with charge insistent that he tell

The will of heaven. And now from many lips

The grim forebodings of Ulysses’ guile

Assail my ears, while all in silence wait

To see the end. Ten days the seer was mute,

Hid in his tent, refusing steadily

By word of his to doom a man to death.

At length, his feigned reluctance at an end,

And goaded by Ulysses’ clamors loud,

He spoke, and named me as the sacrifice.

All gave assent; and while each feared a doom

Which might befall himself, they calmly bore

When on my wretched head they saw it light.

And now the day of horror was at hand.

All things were ready for the sacrifice;

The salted meal was sprinkled on my head,

And round my brows the fatal fillets twined.

Then, I confess it, did I break my bonds.

I fled from death and in the sedgy reeds

Along the muddy margin of a lake

All night I lay in hiding, hoping there

To lurk until their homeward sails were spread.

And now my country dear I ne’er shall see,

My darling children and my aged sire

Whose face I long to see. But they are doomed

To pay the penalty which I escaped,

And by their death repair this fault of mine.

But by the gods above, divinities

Who with impartial eyes behold the truth,

If anywhere there still abides with men

Unsullied faith, I beg you, pity me

Who have endured so dire a weight of woe,

A soul that has been foully overborne.

The Trojans are moved to tears by this tale of woe; and Priam bids the chains be stricken from him. He then addresses the prisoner with friendly words.

Priam (148-151):

Whoe’er thou art, away with thoughts of Greeks.

Be man of ours. And, as I question thee,

Give true reply. What means this monster horse?

Who first proposed, and what its purpose here?

Is it some votive gift, or does it stand

Against our walls as enginery of war?

Sinon stretches his freed hands to the heavens. He speaks excitedly and as one inspired.

Sinon (154-194):

O ye eternal fires, be witness now,

Ye heavenly stars, divine, inviolate,

Ye cursed knives, and altars which I fled,

Ye fillets which as victim doomed I wore:

‘Tis right for me to break all sacred oaths

Which bound me to the Greeks; ‘tis right to hate,

And blab their secrets to the common air.

I’ll not be held by any ties of land

Or law. Do thou but keep thy promises,

O Troy, and, saved by me, keep plighted faith,

If I with truth shall make thee rich returns.

Recovering himself, he goes on more quietly, and with an air of perfect sincerity.

The Greeks’ whole hope and confidence in war

Had rested from the first on Pallas’ aid.

But from the time when godless Diomede,

And that curst Ithacan, expert in crime,

Dared desecrate the goddess’ sacred fane,

Dared drag her mystic image forth, and kill

Her faithful guard, and on her virgin locks

Lay bloody, lustful hands unconsecrate:

From then their hopes kept ebbing back and back,

Their powers were shattered and their goddess’ aid

Denied. And she with no uncertain signs

Revealed at once her outraged deity.

Scarce had the sacred image reached the camp,

When glittering flames blazed from the staring eyes,

And salty perspiration down her limbs

Went streaming; and, oh wonderful to say,

Thrice from the ground, accoutered as she was

With shield and quivering spear, the image leaped.

Straitway did Calchas prophecy that all

Must forth again in flight upon the sea;

That Troy could never by Argolic arms

Be overthrown, save as they back again

To sacred Argos fared and there regained

That heavenly favor which they first had brought

To Ilium.

And now have they indeed

Gone back to Greece, to seek fresh auspices,

And win once more the blessing of the gods.

And soon, and suddenly, the sea retraced,

Will they be here again. So Calchas bade.

Meanwhile, by that same prophet warned, did they

This wooden image fashion to appease

Th’ offended goddess, and atonement make

To her outraged divinity. And more—

The prophet bade them form an image huge

Of oaken beams, of such proportions vast

That through no gate of Troy could it be led,

Nor set within the walls, lest thus once more

The people from their ancient deity

Protection find. For if Minerva’s gift

Should by your hands be desecrated, then

Would dreadful doom (Heaven send it on their heads)

Upon old Priam and his Phrygians come;

But if within your walls this sacred horse

Should by your voluntary hands be set,

Then would all Asia rise with one accord,

And sweep in mighty war against the Greeks,

And that dire doom upon our grandsons fall.

Scene 3

The Trojans are entirely satisfied with this explanation and treat Sinon with respectful consideration. At this juncture, two huge serpents come up out of the sea, and, while the people flee shrieking away on all sides, they make their way to Laocoön where he stands sacrificing at the altar, and enfold him and his two sons in their deadly coils (195-227).

Scene 4

Great excitement follows. People say that Laocoön has perished justly, since he impiously violated the sacred horse, and loudly demand that the creature be taken within the walls (228-249):

A voice from the crowd:

Oh, dreadful punishment, but well deserved,

For with his impious spear he smote the oak,

The sacred wood to Pallas consecrate.

Another voice:

Now haste we and within our city lead

This horse portentous, and with humble prayer

Minerva’s aid and pardoning favor seek.

They hastily enlarge the gate, attach ropes to the horse, and put rollers under its feet, many willing hands lay hold of the ropes and pull the horse along. Boys and girls dance and sing around the workers. The horse sticks at the threshold of the gate, and Cassandra, who has been looking on as one entranced, cries out forebodingly.

Cassandra:

O fatherland! O Ilium, home of gods!

Ye walls of Troy, in war illustrious!

See there, upon the threshold of the gate,

The monster halts—again—and yet again!

And from its rumbling hold I hear the sound

Of clashing arms! O Troy! O fatherland!

But the people, not heeding her, press on and disappear within the city walls with the wooden horse, on the way to the citadel. Everywhere are heard sounds of delirious joy.