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!