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