ACT II
Act II. Scene 1
Night. The chamber of Æneas. He lies sleeping calmly upon his couch. Enter Ghost of Hector, wan and terrible, bearing in his hands the sacred images of the Penates.
Æneas, starting up to a sitting posture, as if talking in a dream (281-286):
O light of Troy, O prop of Trojan hopes,
What slow delays have held thee from our sight,
O long awaited one? Whence com’st thou here?
We see thee now, with hardships overborne,
But only after many of thy friends
Have met their doom, and after struggles vast
Of city and of men.—But what, alas,
Has so defiled thy features? Whence these wounds
And horrid scars I see?
Hector, with deep sighs and groans (289-295):
Oh, get thee hence,
Thou son of Venus, flee these deadly flames.
Our foemen hold the walls; our ancient Troy
Is fallen from her lofty pinnacle
Enough for king and country has been done;
If Troy could have been saved by any hand,
This hand of mine would have defended her.
But now to thee she trusts her sacred gods
And all their sacred rites; take these with thee
As comrades of thy fates; seek walls for these,
Which, when the mighty deep thou hast o’ercome,
Thou shalt at length in lasting empire set.
He makes as if to give the sacred images to Æneas, and vanishes.
A confused sound of distant shouting and clashing of arms fills the room. Æneas leaps from his couch, now fully awake, and stands with strained and attentive ears. The truth dawns upon him as the sounds grow clearer, and as he can see from his window the red flames of burning Troy. He snatches up his arms and is rushing from the room when Panthus hurries in bearing sacred images in his hands and leading his little grandson.
Æneas (322):
My friend, where lies the battle’s central point?
What stronghold do we keep against the foe?
Panthus (324-335):
The last, the fated day of Troy is come.
The mighty glory of the Trojan state
Is of the past, and we, alas, no more
May call ourselves of Ilium; for lo,
The cruel gods have given all to Greece,
And foemen lord it in our blazing town;
The great horse stands upon our citadel,
And from his roomy side pours armed men;
While Sinon, gloating o’er his victory,
With blazing torch is busy everywhere.
Down at the double gates still others press
For entrance, all Mycenæ’s clamorous hosts,
And weapons thick beset the narrow streets.
In battle order stand the long drawn lines
Of gleaming steel prepared for deadly strife.
Scarce do the sturdy watchmen of the gates
Attempt to hold their posts against the foe,
But in the smothering press fight blindly on.
At this, Æneas joins Panthus and together they rush out into the city.
Scene 2
A street of Troy, lit by the moonlight and the glare of burning buildings. Trojans rush in from different sides and rally to Æneas.
Æneas (348-354):
O comrades, O ye hearts most brave in vain,
If you have steadfast minds to follow one
On desperate deeds intent, you see our case:
The gods, who long have buttressed up our state,
Have fled their sacred altars and their shrines,
And left us to our fate. You seek to aid
A city wrapped in flames. Then let us die
And in the midst of death our safety find:
Our safety’s single hope—to hope for none.
The little band hurries off toward the noise of battle in neighboring streets. Enter from the other direction straggling bands of Greeks, drunk with victory. They burn and pillage on all sides, temples and homes alike. Re-enter Trojans led by Æneas. Androgeos, a Greek, thinking them to be Greeks, goes up to them.
Androgeos (373-375):
Now haste ye, men; what time for sloth is this?
The rest on fire and pillage are intent,
While you but now address you to the task.
Androgeos suddenly perceives that these are foes, and is struck dumb with amazement. The Trojans rush upon him and slay him together with the others of his band.
Corœbus, one of Æneas’ band, exultingly (387-391):
O friends, where kindly fortune first doth show
The path of safety, let us follow there.
With these slain Greeks let us our shields exchange,
Their helms and breastplates let us don, and so
In all things seem as Greeks. When foemen strive,
Who questions aught of trickery or might?
Our foes against themselves shall lend us arms.
They exchange arms with the dead Greeks. Thus arrayed, they mingle with the parties of Greeks who straggle in, and slay them. The Greeks, not understanding this strange turn of affairs, flee away in terror. This action is repeated at intervals several times.
Enter a band of Greeks led by Ajax, the Atridæ, and others, dragging Cassandra roughly along by the hair. Her hands are tied with thongs. Corœbus, though the odds are overwhelmingly against him, rushes in to save his beloved Cassandra. The other Trojans, because of their disguise of Greek armor, are attacked by their own friends stationed at near by points of vantage, and now the Greeks themselves, recognizing the ruse at last, overwhelm the little Trojan band by force of numbers. Other Greeks pour in from all sides and add their testimony that these are Trojans. In the desperate encounter many of the Trojans fall.
Æneas performs Herculean feats of arms, and slays many Greeks, but is himself unhurt. At last he and a few followers escape into a street leading to Priam’s palace, whence loud and continued shouting can be heard.
Scene 3
At Priam’s palace (viewed from without), desperately attacked by Greeks and defended by Trojans. (a) The assailants attempt by scaling ladders to mount to the flat, turreted roof of the palace, while the defendants hurl down upon these darts and stones, and pry off whole towers which fall with a mighty crash. The air is filled with the thunderous noise of these falling masses and with the other confused shouts and sounds of a desperate conflict.
(b) Pyrrhus with a strong band of Greeks is endeavoring to batter down the gates of the palace at its main entrance.
Scene 4
Priam’s palace from within. All is confusion and terror. Women rush from room to room, with disheveled hair streaming, and with cries of wild despair. A crowded mass of men are attempting to defend the main entrance. Overhead can be seen and heard the defenders on the roof opposing the attack from without.
In the central open court of the palace, upon the steps of a great altar overshadowed by a laurel tree, Hecuba and a group of women have seated themselves, huddling there in the hope of protection from the sanctity of the altar. Suddenly old Priam comes out into the court, hurriedly adjusting his armor.
Hecuba, calling to him (519-524):
What dost thou there, of reason all bereft,
O wretched husband? What avail those arms?
Or whither speedest thou with tottering steps?
Such aid and such defense as thou canst give
Cannot avail us now, nor Hector’s self,
Could he come back to us. Come hither then;
These sacred altar stairs shall shield us all,
Or in their sight will we together die.
Priam joins the women at the altar.
But see, Polites comes, by Pyrrhus pressed;
Through hostile arms, through halls and colonnades,
He flees alone in sore distress of wounds,
While Pyrrhus follows hard with deadly aim.
And now, Oh, now he grasps and thrusts him through.
Polites falls dead at the feet of Priam and Hecuba.
Priam, springing up and facing Pyrrhus (535-543):
For that base crime of thine, that impious deed,
I pray the gods, if there are gods in heaven
Who care for men, to grant thee dire return,
And give thee what thou hast so richly earned.
For thou hast slain my son before my face,
And with his blood defiled his father’s eyes.
But that Achilles, whom thou falsely claim’st
As sire, did not so treat his royal foe,
But held in reverence the sacred laws.
My Hector’s corpse he gave for burial
And sent me back in safety to my home.
He hurls his spear with feeble strength at Pyrrhus. The spear sticks ineffectually in the opposing shield.
Pyrrhus, scornfully (547-550):
Then bear this message to my noble sire:
Fail not to tell him all my impious deeds,
And how unworthy has his Pyrrhus proved.
Now die.
He drags the old man to the altar and slays him there. Exit Pyrrhus, leaving the bloody corpse of the old man upon the ground. The women are carried off as prisoners by the Greeks who now come thronging in.
Scene 5
In the now deserted palace near the shrine of Vesta. Helen is lurking for protection within the shrine.
Æneas, passing by and seeing Helen (577-587):
Shall this, the common scourge of friend and foe,
Unscathed, behold her native land again?
Her husband, home, her sire and children see?
Shall she as conquering queen go proudly back,
Attended by a throng of Trojan slaves?
Shall Troy have burned for this, old Priam die,
And all the Trojan plain have reeked with blood?
It shall not be. No fame, I know, is earned
By woman’s punishment; such victory
Has little praise; but yet I shall be praised
For having utterly destroyed this wretch,
And on her head inflicted vengeance dire.
It will be sweet to feed my passion’s flame,
And satisfy the ashes of my friends.
He is rushing into the shrine with drawn sword when suddenly Venus appears before him.
Venus (594-620):
What grief inflames thee to this boundless wrath?
What madness this, my son? And whither, pray,
Has fled thy care for us? Bethink thee, first,
Where thou hast left thy father, spent with age;
Whether thy wife, Creüsa, still survives;
Bethink thee of Ascanius thy son.
For they are hemmed about on every side
By hostile Greeks; but for my shielding care,
Already would the flames have swept them off,
And swords of enemies have drunk their blood.
‘Tis not the beauty of the Spartan queen
That should arouse thy hate, nor shouldst thou blame
Thy kinsman, Paris; for the cruel gods,
The gods, I say, have laid thy city low,
And overthrown the lofty walls of Troy.
Behold—for I will straight remove the mist
Which, dense and clinging, clouds thy mortal sight;
Do thou but be obedient to my words;—
Here, where thou seest huge masses overthrown,
Rocks torn from rocks, commingled smoke and dust,
Great Neptune with his trident’s fearful stroke
Causes the walls to rock upon their base.
Here Juno, first of all, with savage mien,
Besets the Scæan gates, and, girt with steel,
In fury calls her allies from the ships.
Now turn thine eyes unto the citadel,
And there behold Tritonian Pallas stand,
All blazing with the war-cloud’s lurid glare,
And that fell Gorgon’s head. Nay Jove himself
Inspires the Greeks with courage, gives them strength,
And whets the gods against the Trojans’ arms.
Betake thee then to flight and end thy toils.
For I will never leave thee, till at last
I bring thee safely to thy father’s house.
Æneas, overcome by these revelations, and resigned to fate, retires.