BOOK II

 THE ARGUMENT.


      Aeneas relates how the city of Troy was taken, after a ten years
      siege, by the treachery of Sinon, and the stratagem of a wooden
      horse. He declares the fixed resolution he had taken not to
      survive the ruin of his country, and the various adventures he
      met with in defence of it. At last, having been before advised by
      Hectors ghost, and now by the appearance of his mother Venus, he
      is prevailed upon to leave the town, and settle his household
      gods in another country. In order to this, he carries off his
      father on his shoulders, and leads his little son by the hand,
      his wife following behind. When he comes to the place appointed
      for the general rendezvous, he finds a great confluence of
      people, but misses his wife, whose ghost afterwards appears to
      him, and tells him the land which was designed for him.


      All were attentive to the godlike man,
      When from his lofty couch he thus began:
      Great queen, what you command me to relate
      Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:
      An empire from its old foundations rent,
      And evry woe the Trojans underwent;
      A peopled city made a desert place;
      All that I saw, and part of which I was:
      Not evn the hardest of our foes could hear,
      Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear.
      And now the latter watch of wasting night,
      And setting stars, to kindly rest invite;
      But, since you take such intrest in our woe,
      And Troys disastrous end desire to know,
      I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell
      What in our last and fatal night befell.

      By destiny compelld, and in despair,
      The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,
      And by Minervas aid a fabric reard,
      Which like a steed of monstrous height appeard:
      The sides were plankd with pine; they feignd it made
      For their return, and this the vow they paid.
      Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side
      Selected numbers of their soldiers hide:
      With inward arms the dire machine they load,
      And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.
      In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle
      (While Fortune did on Priams empire smile)
      Renownd for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay,
      Where ships exposd to wind and weather lay.
      There was their fleet conceald. We thought, for Greece
      Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.
      The Trojans, coopd within their walls so long,
      Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng,
      Like swarming bees, and with delight survey
      The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay:
      The quarters of the sevral chiefs they showd;
      Here Phoenix, here Achilles, made abode;
      Here joind the battles; there the navy rode.
      Part on the pile their wondring eyes employ:
      The pile by Pallas raisd to ruin Troy.
      Thymoetes first (tis doubtful whether hird,
      Or so the Trojan destiny requird)
      Movd that the ramparts might be broken down,
      To lodge the monster fabric in the town.
      But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind,
      The fatal present to the flames designed,
      Or to the watry deep; at least to bore
      The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore.
      The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide,
      With noise say nothing, and in parts divide.
      Laocoon, followd by a numrous crowd,
      Ran from the fort, and cried, from far, aloud:
      O wretched countrymen! what fury reigns?
      What more than madness has possessd your brains?
      Think you the Grecians from your coasts are gone?
      And are Ulysses arts no better known?
      This hollow fabric either must inclose,
      Within its blind recess, our secret foes;
      Or tis an engine raisd above the town,
      T oerlook the walls, and then to batter down.
      Somewhat is sure designd, by fraud or force:
      Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.
      Thus having said, against the steed he threw
      His forceful spear, which, hissing as it flew,
      Piercd thro the yielding planks of jointed wood,
      And trembling in the hollow belly stood.
      The sides, transpiercd, return a rattling sound,
      And groans of Greeks inclosd come issuing thro the wound
      And, had not Heavn the fall of Troy designd,
      Or had not men been fated to be blind,
      Enough was said and done tinspire a better mind.
      Then had our lances piercd the treachrous wood,
      And Ilian towrs and Priams empire stood.
      Meantime, with shouts, the Trojan shepherds bring
      A captive Greek, in bands, before the king;
      Taken to take; who made himself their prey,
      T impose on their belief, and Troy betray;
      Fixd on his aim, and obstinately bent
      To die undaunted, or to circumvent.
      About the captive, tides of Trojans flow;
      All press to see, and some insult the foe.
      Now hear how well the Greeks their wiles disguisd;
      Behold a nation in a man comprisd.
      Trembling the miscreant stood, unarmd and bound;
      He stard, and rolld his haggard eyes around,
      Then said: Alas! what earth remains, what sea
      Is open to receive unhappy me?
      What fate a wretched fugitive attends,
      Scornd by my foes, abandond by my friends?
      He said, and sighd, and cast a rueful eye:
      Our pity kindles, and our passions die.
      We cheer the youth to make his own defence,
      And freely tell us what he was, and whence:
      What news he could impart, we long to know,
      And what to credit from a captive foe.

      His fear at length dismissd, he said: Whateer
      My fate ordains, my words shall be sincere:
      I neither can nor dare my birth disclaim;
      Greece is my country, Sinon is my name.
      Tho plungd by Fortunes powr in misery,
      Tis not in Fortunes powr to make me lie.
      If any chance has hither brought the name
      Of Palamedes, not unknown to fame,
      Who sufferd from the malice of the times,
      Accusd and sentencd for pretended crimes,
      Because these fatal wars he would prevent;
      Whose death the wretched Greeks too late lament;
      Me, then a boy, my father, poor and bare
      Of other means, committed to his care,
      His kinsman and companion in the war.
      While Fortune favourd, while his arms support
      The cause, and ruld the counsels, of the court,
      I made some figure there; nor was my name
      Obscure, nor I without my share of fame.
      But when Ulysses, with fallacious arts,
      Had made impression in the peoples hearts,
      And forgd a treason in my patrons name
      (I speak of things too far divulgd by fame),
      My kinsman fell. Then I, without support,
      In private mournd his loss, and left the court.
      Mad as I was, I could not bear his fate
      With silent grief, but loudly blamd the state,
      And cursd the direful author of my woes.
      Twas told again; and hence my ruin rose.
      I threatend, if indulgent Heavn once more
      Would land me safely on my native shore,
      His death with double vengeance to restore.
      This movd the murderers hate; and soon ensued
      Th effects of malice from a man so proud.
      Ambiguous rumours thro the camp he spread,
      And sought, by treason, my devoted head;
      New crimes invented; left unturnd no stone,
      To make my guilt appear, and hide his own;
      Till Calchas was by force and threatning wrought:
      But whywhy dwell I on that anxious thought?
      If on my nation just revenge you seek,
      And tis t appear a foe, t appear a Greek;
      Already you my name and country know;
      Assuage your thirst of blood, and strike the blow:
      My death will both the kingly brothers please,
      And set insatiate Ithacus at ease.
      This fair unfinishd tale, these broken starts,
      Raisd expectations in our longing hearts:
      Unknowing as we were in Grecian arts.
      His former trembling once again renewd,
      With acted fear, the villain thus pursued:

      Long had the Grecians (tird with fruitless care,
      And wearied with an unsuccessful war)
      Resolvd to raise the siege, and leave the town;
      And, had the gods permitted, they had gone;
      But oft the wintry seas and southern winds
      Withstood their passage home, and changd their minds.
      Portents and prodigies their souls amazd;
      But most, when this stupendous pile was raisd:
      Then flaming meteors, hung in air, were seen,
      And thunders rattled thro a sky serene.
      Dismayd, and fearful of some dire event,
      Eurypylus t enquire their fate was sent.
      He from the gods this dreadful answer brought:

      O Grecians, when the Trojan shores you sought,
      Your passage with a virgins blood was bought:
      So must your safe return be bought again,
      And Grecian blood once more atone the main.
      The spreading rumour round the people ran;
      All feard, and each believd himself the man.
      Ulysses took th advantage of their fright;
      Calld Calchas, and producd in open sight:
      Then bade him name the wretch, ordaind by fate
      The public victim, to redeem the state.
      Already some presagd the dire event,
      And saw what sacrifice Ulysses meant.
      For twice five days the good old seer withstood
      Th intended treason, and was dumb to blood,
      Till, tird, with endless clamours and pursuit
      Of Ithacus, he stood no longer mute;
      But, as it was agreed, pronouncd that I
      Was destind by the wrathful gods to die.
      All praisd the sentence, pleasd the storm should fall
      On one alone, whose fury threatend all.
      The dismal day was come; the priests prepare
      Their leavend cakes, and fillets for my hair.
      I followd natures laws, and must avow
      I broke my bonds and fled the fatal blow.
      Hid in a weedy lake all night I lay,
      Secure of safety when they saild away.
      But now what further hopes for me remain,
      To see my friends, or native soil, again;
      My tender infants, or my careful sire,
      Whom they returning will to death require;
      Will perpetrate on them their first design,
      And take the forfeit of their heads for mine?
      Which, O! if pity mortal minds can move,
      If there be faith below, or gods above,
      If innocence and truth can claim desert,
      Ye Trojans, from an injurd wretch avert.

      False tears true pity move; the king commands
      To loose his fetters, and unbind his hands:
      Then adds these friendly words: Dismiss thy fears;
      Forget the Greeks; be mine as thou wert theirs.
      But truly tell, was it for force or guile,
      Or some religious end, you raisd the pile?
      Thus said the king. He, full of fraudful arts,
      This well-invented tale for truth imparts:
      Ye lamps of heavn! he said, and lifted high
      His hands now free, thou venerable sky!
      Inviolable powrs, adord with dread!
      Ye fatal fillets, that once bound this head!
      Ye sacred altars, from whose flames I fled!
      Be all of you adjurd; and grant I may,
      Without a crime, th ungrateful Greeks betray,
      Reveal the secrets of the guilty state,
      And justly punish whom I justly hate!
      But you, O king, preserve the faith you gave,
      If I, to save myself, your empire save.
      The Grecian hopes, and all th attempts they made,
      Were only founded on Minervas aid.
      But from the time when impious Diomede,
      And false Ulysses, that inventive head,
      Her fatal image from the temple drew,
      The sleeping guardians of the castle slew,
      Her virgin statue with their bloody hands
      Polluted, and profand her holy bands;
      From thence the tide of fortune left their shore,
      And ebbd much faster than it flowd before:
      Their courage languishd, as their hopes decayd;
      And Pallas, now averse, refusd her aid.
      Nor did the goddess doubtfully declare
      Her alterd mind and alienated care.
      When first her fatal image touchd the ground,
      She sternly cast her glaring eyes around,
      That sparkled as they rolld, and seemd to threat:
      Her heavnly limbs distilld a briny sweat.
      Thrice from the ground she leapd, was seen to wield
      Her brandishd lance, and shake her horrid shield.
      Then Calchas bade our host for flight
      And hope no conquest from the tedious war,
      Till first they saild for Greece; with prayrs besought
      Her injurd powr, and better omens brought.
      And now their navy plows the watry main,
      Yet soon expect it on your shores again,
      With Pallas pleasd; as Calchas did ordain.
      But first, to reconcile the blue-eyd maid
      For her stoln statue and her towr betrayd,
      Warnd by the seer, to her offended name
      We raisd and dedicate this wondrous frame,
      So lofty, lest thro your forbidden gates
      It pass, and intercept our better fates:
      For, once admitted there, our hopes are lost;
      And Troy may then a new Palladium boast;
      For so religion and the gods ordain,
      That, if you violate with hands profane
      Minervas gift, your town in flames shall burn,
      (Which omen, O ye gods, on Grecia turn!)
      But if it climb, with your assisting hands,
      The Trojan walls, and in the city stands;
      Then Troy shall Argos and Mycenae burn,
      And the reverse of fate on us return.

      With such deceits he gaind their easy hearts,
      Too prone to credit his perfidious arts.
      What Diomede, nor Thetis greater son,
      A thousand ships, nor ten years siege, had done:
      False tears and fawning words the city won.

      A greater omen, and of worse portent,
      Did our unwary minds with fear torment,
      Concurring to produce the dire event.
      Laocoon, Neptunes priest by lot that year,
      With solemn pomp then sacrificd a steer;
      When, dreadful to behold, from sea we spied
      Two serpents, rankd abreast, the seas divide,
      And smoothly sweep along the swelling tide.
      Their flaming crests above the waves they show;
      Their bellies seem to burn the seas below;
      Their speckled tails advance to steer their course,
      And on the sounding shore the flying billows force.
      And now the strand, and now the plain they held;
      Their ardent eyes with bloody streaks were filld;
      Their nimble tongues they brandishd as they came,
      And lickd their hissing jaws, that sputterd flame.
      We fled amazd; their destind way they take,
      And to Laocoon and his children make;
      And first around the tender boys they wind,
      Then with their sharpend fangs their limbs and bodies grind.
      The wretched father, running to their aid
      With pious haste, but vain, they next invade;
      Twice round his waist their winding volumes rolld;
      And twice about his gasping throat they fold.
      The priest thus doubly chokd, their crests divide,
      And towring oer his head in triumph ride.
      With both his hands he labours at the knots;
      His holy fillets the blue venom blots;
      His roaring fills the flitting air around.
      Thus, when an ox receives a glancing wound,
      He breaks his bands, the fatal altar flies,
      And with loud bellowings breaks the yielding skies.
      Their tasks performd, the serpents quit their prey,
      And to the towr of Pallas make their way:
      Couchd at her feet, they lie protected there
      By her large buckler and protended spear.
      Amazement seizes all; the genral cry
      Proclaims Laocoon justly doomd to die,
      Whose hand the will of Pallas had withstood,
      And dared to violate the sacred wood.
      All vote t admit the steed, that vows be paid
      And incense offerd to th offended maid.
      A spacious breach is made; the town lies bare;
      Some hoisting levers, some the wheels prepare
      And fasten to the horses feet; the rest
      With cables haul along th unwieldly beast.
      Each on his fellow for assistance calls;
      At length the fatal fabric mounts the walls,
      Big with destruction. Boys with chaplets crownd,
      And choirs of virgins, sing and dance around.
      Thus raisd aloft, and then descending down,
      It enters oer our heads, and threats the town.
      O sacred city, built by hands divine!
      O valiant heroes of the Trojan line!
      Four times he struck: as oft the clashing sound
      Of arms was heard, and inward groans rebound.
      Yet, mad with zeal, and blinded with our fate,
      We haul along the horse in solemn state;
      Then place the dire portent within the towr.
      Cassandra cried, and cursd th unhappy hour;
      Foretold our fate; but, by the gods decree,
      All heard, and none believd the prophecy.
      With branches we the fanes adorn, and waste,
      In jollity, the day ordaind to be the last.
      Meantime the rapid heavns rolld down the light,
      And on the shaded ocean rushd the night;
      Our men, secure, nor guards nor sentries held,
      But easy sleep their weary limbs compelld.
      The Grecians had embarkd their naval powrs
      From Tenedos, and sought our well-known shores,
      Safe under covert of the silent night,
      And guided by th imperial galleys light;
      When Sinon, favourd by the partial gods,
      Unlockd the horse, and opd his dark abodes;
      Restord to vital air our hidden foes,
      Who joyful from their long confinement rose.
      Tysander bold, and Sthenelus their guide,
      And dire Ulysses down the cable slide:
      Then Thoas, Athamas, and Pyrrhus haste;
      Nor was the Podalirian hero last,
      Nor injurd Menelaus, nor the famd
      Epeus, who the fatal engine framd.
      A nameless crowd succeed; their forces join
      T invade the town, oppressd with sleep and wine.
      Those few they find awake first meet their fate;
      Then to their fellows they unbar the gate.

      Twas in the dead of night, when sleep repairs
      Our bodies worn with toils, our minds with cares,
      When Hectors ghost before my sight appears:
      A bloody shroud he seemd, and bathd in tears;
      Such as he was, when, by Pelides slain,
      Thessalian coursers draggd him oer the plain.
      Swoln were his feet, as when the thongs were thrust
      Thro the bord holes; his body black with dust;
      Unlike that Hector who returnd from toils
      Of war, triumphant, in Aeacian spoils,
      Or him who made the fainting Greeks retire,
      And launchd against their navy Phrygian fire.
      His hair and beard stood stiffend with his gore;
      And all the wounds he for his country bore
      Now streamd afresh, and with new purple ran.
      I wept to see the visionary man,
      And, while my trance continued, thus began:
      O light of Trojans, and support of Troy,
      Thy fathers champion, and thy countrys joy!
      O, long expected by thy friends! from whence
      Art thou so late returnd for our defence?
      Do we behold thee, wearied as we are
      With length of labours, and with toils of war?
      After so many funrals of thy own
      Art thou restord to thy declining town?
      But say, what wounds are these? What new disgrace
      Deforms the manly features of thy face?

      To this the spectre no reply did frame,
      But answerd to the cause for which he came,
      And, groaning from the bottom of his breast,
      This warning in these mournful words expressd:
      O goddess-born! escape, by timely flight,
      The flames and horrors of this fatal night.
      The foes already have possessd the wall;
      Troy nods from high, and totters to her fall.
      Enough is paid to Priams royal name,
      More than enough to duty and to fame.
      If by a mortal hand my fathers throne
      Could be defended, twas by mine alone.
      Now Troy to thee commends her future state,
      And gives her gods companions of thy fate:
      From their assistance walls expect,
      Which, wandring long, at last thou shalt erect.
      He said, and brought me, from their blest abodes,
      The venerable statues of the gods,
      With ancient Vesta from the sacred choir,
      The wreaths and relics of th immortal fire.

      Now peals of shouts come thundring from afar,
      Cries, threats, and loud laments, and mingled war:
      The noise approaches, tho our palace stood
      Aloof from streets, encompassd with a wood.
      Louder, and yet more loud, I hear th alarms
      Of human cries distinct, and clashing arms.
      Fear broke my slumbers; I no longer stay,
      But mount the terrace, thence the town survey,
      And hearken what the frightful sounds convey.
      Thus, when a flood of fire by wind is borne,
      Crackling it rolls, and mows the standing corn;
      Or deluges, descending on the plains,
      Sweep oer the yellow year, destroy the pains
      Of labring oxen and the peasants gains;
      Unroot the forest oaks, and bear away
      Flocks, folds, and trees, and undistinguishd prey:
      The shepherd climbs the cliff, and sees from far
      The wasteful ravage of the watry war.
      Then Hectors faith was manifestly cleard,
      And Grecian frauds in open light appeard.
      The palace of Deiphobus ascends
      In smoky flames, and catches on his friends.
      Ucalegon burns next: the seas are bright
      With splendour not their own, and shine with Trojan light.
      New clamours and new clangours now arise,
      The sound of trumpets mixd with fighting cries.
      With frenzy seizd, I run to meet th alarms,
      Resolvd on death, resolvd to die in arms,
      But first to gather friends, with them t oppose
      If fortune favourd, and repel the foes;
      Spurrd by my courage, by my country fird,
      With sense of honour and revenge inspird.

      Pantheus, Apollos priest, a sacred name,
      Had scapd the Grecian swords, and passd the flame:
      With relics loaden, to my doors he fled,
      And by the hand his tender grandson led.
      What hope, O Pantheus? whither can we run?
      Where make a stand? and what may yet be done?
      Scarce had I said, when Pantheus, with a groan:
      Troy is no more, and Ilium was a town!
      The fatal day, th appointed hour, is come,
      When wrathful Joves irrevocable doom
      Transfers the Trojan state to Grecian hands.
      The fire consumes the town, the foe commands;
      And armed hosts, an unexpected force,
      Break from the bowels of the fatal horse.
      Within the gates, proud Sinon throws about
      The flames; and foes for entrance press without,
      With thousand others, whom I fear to name,
      More than from Argos or Mycenae came.
      To sevral posts their parties they divide;
      Some block the narrow streets, some scour the wide:
      The bold they kill, th unwary they surprise;
      Who fights finds death, and death finds him who flies.
      The warders of the gate but scarce maintain
      Th unequal combat, and resist in vain.

      I heard; and Heavn, that well-born souls inspires,
      Prompts me thro lifted swords and rising fires
      To run where clashing arms and clamour calls,
      And rush undaunted to defend the walls.
      Ripheus and Iphitas by my side engage,
      For valour one renownd, and one for age.
      Dymas and Hypanis by moonlight knew
      My motions and my mien, and to my party drew;
      With young Coroebus, who by love was led
      To win renown and fair Cassandras bed,
      And lately brought his troops to Priams aid,
      Forewarnd in vain by the prophetic maid.
      Whom when I saw resolvd in arms to fall,
      And that one spirit animated all:
      Brave souls! said I, but brave, alas! in vain:
      Come, finish what our cruel fates ordain.
      You see the desprate state of our affairs,
      And heavns protecting powrs are deaf to prayrs.
      The passive gods behold the Greeks defile
      Their temples, and abandon to the spoil
      Their own abodes: we, feeble few, conspire
      To save a sinking town, involvd in fire.
      Then let us fall, but fall amidst our foes:
      Despair of life the means of living shows.
      So bold a speech incouragd their desire
      Of death, and added fuel to their fire.

      As hungry wolves, with raging appetite,
      Scour thro the fields, nor fear the stormy night;
      Their whelps at home expect the promisd food,
      And long to temper their dry chaps in blood:
      So rushd we forth at once; resolvd to die,
      Resolvd, in death, the last extremes to try.
      We leave the narrow lanes behind, and dare
      Th unequal combat in the public square:
      Night was our friend; our leader was despair.
      What tongue can tell the slaughter of that night?
      What eyes can weep the sorrows and affright?
      An ancient and imperial city falls:
      The streets are filld with frequent funerals;
      Houses and holy temples float in blood,
      And hostile nations make a common flood.
      Not only Trojans fall; but, in their turn,
      The vanquishd triumph, and the victors mourn.
      Ours take new courage from despair and night:
      Confusd the fortune is, confusd the fight.
      All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears;
      And grisly Death in sundry shapes appears.
      Androgeos fell among us, with his band,
      Who thought us Grecians newly come to land.
      From whence, said he, my friends, this long delay?
      You loiter, while the spoils are borne away:
      Our ships are laden with the Trojan store;
      And you, like truants, come too late ashore.
      He said, but soon corrected his mistake,
      Found, by the doubtful answers which we make:
      Amazd, he would have shunnd th unequal fight;
      But we, more numrous, intercept his flight.
      As when some peasant, in a bushy brake,
      Has with unwary footing pressd a snake;
      He starts aside, astonishd, when he spies
      His rising crest, blue neck, and rolling eyes;
      So from our arms surprisd Androgeos flies.
      In vain; for him and his we compassd round,
      Possessd with fear, unknowing of the ground,
      And of their lives an easy conquest found.
      Thus Fortune on our first endeavor smild.
      Coroebus then, with youthful hopes beguild,
      Swoln with success, and a daring mind,
      This new invention fatally designd.
      My friends, said he, since Fortune shows the way,
      Tis fit we should th auspicious guide obey.
      For what has she these Grecian arms bestowd,
      But their destruction, and the Trojans good?
      Then change we shields, and their devices bear:
      Let fraud supply the want of force in war.
      They find us arms. This said, himself he dressd
      In dead Androgeos spoils, his upper vest,
      His painted buckler, and his plumy crest.
      Thus Ripheus, Dymas, all the Trojan train,
      Lay down their own attire, and strip the slain.
      Mixd with the Greeks, we go with ill presage,
      Flatterd with hopes to glut our greedy rage;
      Unknown, assaulting whom we blindly meet,
      And strew with Grecian carcasses the street.
      Thus while their straggling parties we defeat,
      Some to the shore and safer ships retreat;
      And some, oppressd with more ignoble fear,
      Remount the hollow horse, and pant in secret there.

      But, ah! what use of valour can be made,
      When heavns propitious powrs refuse their aid!
      Behold the royal prophetess, the fair
      Cassandra, draggd by her disheveld hair,
      Whom not Minervas shrine, nor sacred bands,
      In safety could protect from sacrilegious hands:
      On heavn she cast her eyes, she sighd, she cried,
      (Twas all she could) her tender arms were tied.
      So sad a sight Coroebus could not bear;
      But, fird with rage, distracted with despair,
      Amid the barbrous ravishers he flew:
      Our leaders rash example we pursue.
      But storms of stones, from the proud temples height,
      Pour down, and on our batterd helms alight:
      We from our friends receivd this fatal blow,
      Who thought us Grecians, as we seemd in show.
      They aim at the mistaken crests, from high;
      And ours beneath the pondrous ruin lie.
      Then, movd with anger and disdain, to see
      Their troops dispersd, the royal virgin free,
      The Grecians rally, and their powrs unite,
      With fury charge us, and renew the fight.
      The brother kings with Ajax join their force,
      And the whole squadron of Thessalian horse.

      Thus, when the rival winds their quarrel try,
      Contending for the kingdom of the sky,
      South, east, and west, on airy coursers borne;
      The whirlwind gathers, and the woods are torn:
      Then Nereus strikes the deep; the billows rise,
      And, mixd with ooze and sand, pollute the skies.
      The troops we squanderd first again appear
      From several quarters, and enclose the rear.
      They first observe, and to the rest betray,
      Our diffrent speech; our borrowd arms survey.
      Oppressd with odds, we fall; Coroebus first,
      At Pallas altar, by Peneleus piercd.
      Then Ripheus followd, in th unequal fight;
      Just of his word, observant of the right:
      Heavn thought not so. Dymas their fate attends,
      With Hypanis, mistaken by their friends.
      Nor, Pantheus, thee, thy mitre, nor the bands
      Of awful Phoebus, savd from impious hands.
      Ye Trojan flames, your testimony bear,
      What I performd, and what I sufferd there;
      No sword avoiding in the fatal strife,
      Exposd to death, and prodigal of life;
      Witness, ye heavens! I live not by my fault:
      I strove to have deservd the death I sought.
      But, when I could not fight, and would have died,
      Borne off to distance by the growing tide,
      Old Iphitus and I were hurried thence,
      With Pelias wounded, and without defence.
      New clamours from th invested palace ring:
      We run to die, or disengage the king.
      So hot th assault, so high the tumult rose,
      While ours defend, and while the Greeks oppose
      As all the Dardan and Argolic race
      Had been contracted in that narrow space;
      Or as all Ilium else were void of fear,
      And tumult, war, and slaughter, only there.
      Their targets in a tortoise cast, the foes,
      Secure advancing, to the turrets rose:
      Some mount the scaling ladders; some, more bold,
      Swerve upwards, and by posts and pillars hold;
      Their left hand gripes their bucklers in th ascent,
      While with their right they seize the battlement.
      From their demolishd towrs the Trojans throw
      Huge heaps of stones, that, falling, crush the foe;
      And heavy beams and rafters from the sides
      (Such arms their last necessity provides)
      And gilded roofs, come tumbling from on high,
      The marks of state and ancient royalty.
      The guards below, fixd in the pass, attend
      The charge undaunted, and the gate defend.
      Renewd in courage with recoverd breath,
      A second time we ran to tempt our death,
      To clear the palace from the foe, succeed
      The weary living, and revenge the dead.

      A postern door, yet unobservd and free,
      Joind by the length of a blind gallery,
      To the kings closet led: a way well known
      To Hectors wife, while Priam held the throne,
      Thro which she brought Astyanax, unseen,
      To cheer his grandsire and his grandsires queen.
      Thro this we pass, and mount the towr, from whence
      With unavailing arms the Trojans make defence.
      From this the trembling king had oft descried
      The Grecian camp, and saw their navy ride.
      Beams from its lofty height with swords we hew,
      Then, wrenching with our hands, th assault renew;
      And, where the rafters on the columns meet,
      We push them headlong with our arms and feet.
      The lightning flies not swifter than the fall,
      Nor thunder louder than the ruind wall:
      Down goes the top at once; the Greeks beneath
      Are piecemeal torn, or pounded into death.
      Yet more succeed, and more to death are sent;
      We cease not from above, nor they below relent.
      Before the gate stood Pyrrhus, threatning loud,
      With glittring arms conspicuous in the crowd.
      So shines, renewd in youth, the crested snake,
      Who slept the winter in a thorny brake,
      And, casting off his slough when spring returns,
      Now looks aloft, and with new glory burns;
      Restord with poisonous herbs, his ardent sides
      Reflect the sun; and raisd on spires he rides;
      High oer the grass, hissing he rolls along,
      And brandishes by fits his forky tongue.
      Proud Periphas, and fierce Automedon,
      His fathers charioteer, together run
      To force the gate; the Scyrian infantry
      Rush on in crowds, and the barrd passage free.
      Entring the court, with shouts the skies they rend;
      And flaming firebrands to the roofs ascend.
      Himself, among the foremost, deals his blows,
      And with his ax repeated strokes bestows
      On the strong doors; then all their shoulders ply,
      Till from the posts the brazen hinges fly.
      He hews apace; the double bars at length
      Yield to his ax and unresisted strength.
      A mighty breach is made: the rooms conceald
      Appear, and all the palace is reveald;
      The halls of audience, and of public state,
      And where the lonely queen in secret sate.
      Armd soldiers now by trembling maids are seen,
      With not a door, and scarce a space, between.
      The house is filld with loud laments and cries,
      And shrieks of women rend the vaulted skies;
      The fearful matrons run from place to place,
      And kiss the thresholds, and the posts embrace.
      The fatal work inhuman Pyrrhus plies,
      And all his father sparkles in his eyes;
      Nor bars, nor fighting guards, his force sustain:
      The bars are broken, and the guards are slain.
      In rush the Greeks, and all the apartments fill;
      Those few defendants whom they find, they kill.
      Not with so fierce a rage the foaming flood
      Roars, when he finds his rapid course withstood;
      Bears down the dams with unresisted sway,
      And sweeps the cattle and the cots away.
      These eyes beheld him when he marchd between
      The brother kings: I saw th unhappy queen,
      The hundred wives, and where old Priam stood,
      To stain his hallowd altar with his brood.
      The fifty nuptial beds (such hopes had he,
      So large a promise, of a progeny),
      The posts, of plated gold, and hung with spoils,
      Fell the reward of the proud victors toils.
      Whereer the raging fire had left a space,
      The Grecians enter and possess the place.

      Perhaps you may of Priams fate enquire.
      He, when he saw his regal town on fire,
      His ruind palace, and his entring foes,
      On evry side inevitable woes,
      In arms, disusd, invests his limbs, decayd,
      Like them, with age; a late and useless aid.
      His feeble shoulders scarce the weight sustain;
      Loaded, not armd, he creeps along with pain,
      Despairing of success, ambitious to be slain!
      Uncoverd but by heavn, there stood in view
      An altar; near the hearth a laurel grew,
      Dodderd with age, whose boughs encompass round
      The household gods, and shade the holy ground.
      Here Hecuba, with all her helpless train
      Of dames, for shelter sought, but sought in vain.
      Drivn like a flock of doves along the sky,
      Their images they hug, and to their altars fly.
      The Queen, when she beheld her trembling lord,
      And hanging by his side a heavy sword,
      What rage, she cried, has seizd my husbands mind?
      What arms are these, and to what use designd?
      These times want other aids! Were Hector here,
      Evn Hector now in vain, like Priam, would appear.
      With us, one common shelter thou shalt find,
      Or in one common fate with us be joind.
      She said, and with a last salute embracd
      The poor old man, and by the laurel placd.
      Behold! Polites, one of Priams sons,
      Pursued by Pyrrhus, there for safety runs.
      Thro swords and foes, amazd and hurt, he flies
      Thro empty courts and open galleries.
      Him Pyrrhus, urging with his lance, pursues,
      And often reaches, and his thrusts renews.
      The youth, transfixd, with lamentable cries,
      Expires before his wretched parents eyes:
      Whom gasping at his feet when Priam saw,
      The fear of death gave place to natures law;
      And, shaking more with anger than with age,
      The gods, said he, requite thy brutal rage!
      As sure they will, barbarian, sure they must,
      If there be gods in heavn, and gods be just:
      Who takst in wrongs an insolent delight;
      With a sons death t infect a fathers sight.
      Not he, whom thou and lying fame conspire
      To call thee his; not he, thy vaunted sire,
      Thus usd my wretched age: the gods he feard,
      The laws of nature and of nations heard.
      He cheerd my sorrows, and, for sums of gold,
      The bloodless carcass of my Hector sold;
      Pitied the woes a parent underwent,
      And sent me back in safety from his tent.

      This said, his feeble hand a javelin threw,
      Which, fluttring, seemd to loiter as it flew:
      Just, and but barely, to the mark it held,
      And faintly tinkled on the brazen shield.

      Then Pyrrhus thus: Go thou from me to fate,
      And to my father my foul deeds relate.
      Now die! With that he draggd the trembling sire,
      Sliddring thro clotterd blood and holy mire,
      (The mingled paste his murderd son had made,)
      Hauld from beneath the violated shade,
      And on the sacred pile the royal victim laid.
      His right hand held his bloody falchion bare,
      His left he twisted in his hoary hair;
      Then, with a speeding thrust, his heart he found:
      The lukewarm blood came rushing thro the wound,
      And sanguine streams distaind the sacred ground.
      Thus Priam fell, and shard one common fate
      With Troy in ashes, and his ruind state:
      He, who the scepter of all Asia swayd,
      Whom monarchs like domestic slaves obeyd.
      On the bleak shore now lies th abandond king,
      A headless carcass, and a nameless thing.

      Then, not before, I felt my curdled blood
      Congeal with fear, my hair with horror stood:
      My fathers image filld my pious mind,
      Lest equal years might equal fortune find.
      Again I thought on my forsaken wife,
      And trembled for my sons abandond life.
      I lookd about, but found myself alone,
      Deserted at my need! My friends were gone.
      Some spent with toil, some with despair oppressd,
      Leapd headlong from the heights; the flames consumd the rest.
      Thus, wandring in my way, without a guide,
      The graceless Helen in the porch I spied
      Of Vestas temple; there she lurkd alone;
      Muffled she sate, and, what she could, unknown:
      But, by the flames that cast their blaze around,
      That common bane of Greece and Troy I found.
      For Ilium burnt, she dreads the Trojan sword;
      More dreads the vengeance of her injurd lord;
      Evn by those gods who refugd her abhorrd.
      Trembling with rage, the strumpet I regard,
      Resolvd to give her guilt the due reward:
      Shall she triumphant sail before the wind,
      And leave in flames unhappy Troy behind?
      Shall she her kingdom and her friends review,
      In state attended with a captive crew,
      While unrevengd the good old Priam falls,
      And Grecian fires consume the Trojan walls?
      For this the Phrygian fields and Xanthian flood
      Were swelld with bodies, and were drunk with blood?
      Tis true, a soldier can small honour gain,
      And boast no conquest, from a woman slain:
      Yet shall the fact not pass without applause,
      Of vengeance taken in so just a cause;
      The punishd crime shall set my soul at ease,
      And murmring manes of my friends appease.
      Thus while I rave, a gleam of pleasing light
      Spread oer the place; and, shining heavnly bright,
      My mother stood reveald before my sight
      Never so radiant did her eyes appear;
      Not her own star confessd a light so clear:
      Great in her charms, as when on gods above
      She looks, and breathes herself into their love.
      She held my hand, the destind blow to break;
      Then from her rosy lips began to speak:
      My son, from whence this madness, this neglect
      Of my commands, and those whom I protect?
      Why this unmanly rage? Recall to mind
      Whom you forsake, what pledges leave behind.
      Look if your helpless father yet survive,
      Or if Ascanius or Creusa live.
      Around your house the greedy Grecians err;
      And these had perishd in the nightly war,
      But for my presence and protecting care.
      Not Helens face, nor Paris, was in fault;
      But by the gods was this destruction brought.
      Now cast your eyes around, while I dissolve
      The mists and films that mortal eyes involve,
      Purge from your sight the dross, and make you see
      The shape of each avenging deity.
      Enlightend thus, my just commands fulfil,
      Nor fear obedience to your mothers will.
      Where yon disorderd heap of ruin lies,
      Stones rent from stones; where clouds of dust arise,
      Amid that smother Neptune holds his place,
      Below the walls foundation drives his mace,
      And heaves the building from the solid base.
      Look where, in arms, imperial Juno stands
      Full in the Scaean gate, with loud commands,
      Urging on shore the tardy Grecian bands.
      See! Pallas, of her snaky buckler proud,
      Bestrides the towr, refulgent thro the cloud:
      See! Jove new courage to the foe supplies,
      And arms against the town the partial deities.
      Haste hence, my son; this fruitless labour end:
      Haste, where your trembling spouse and sire attend:
      Haste; and a mothers care your passage shall befriend.
      She said, and swiftly vanishd from my sight,
      Obscure in clouds and gloomy shades of night.
      I lookd, I listend; dreadful sounds I hear;
      And the dire forms of hostile gods appear.
      Troy sunk in flames I saw, nor could prevent;
      And Ilium from its old foundations rent;
      Rent like a mountain ash, which dard the winds,
      And stood the sturdy strokes of labring hinds.
      About the roots the cruel ax resounds;
      The stumps are piercd with oft-repeated wounds:
      The war is felt on high; the nodding crown
      Now threats a fall, and throws the leafy honours down.
      To their united force it yields, tho late,
      And mourns with mortal groans th approaching fate:
      The roots no more their upper load sustain;
      But down she falls, and spreads a ruin thro the plain.

      Descending thence, I scape thro foes and fire:
      Before the goddess, foes and flames retire.
      Arrivd at home, he, for whose only sake,
      Or most for his, such toils I undertake,
      The good Anchises, whom, by timely flight,
      I purposd to secure on Idas height,
      Refusd the journey, resolute to die
      And add his funrals to the fate of Troy,
      Rather than exile and old age sustain.
      Go you, whose blood runs warm in evry vein.
      Had Heavn decreed that I should life enjoy,
      Heavn had decreed to save unhappy Troy.
      Tis, sure, enough, if not too much, for one,
      Twice to have seen our Ilium overthrown.
      Make haste to save the poor remaining crew,
      And give this useless corpse a long adieu.
      These weak old hands suffice to stop my breath;
      At least the pitying foes will aid my death,
      To take my spoils, and leave my body bare:
      As for my sepulcher, let Heavn take care.
      Tis long since I, for my celestial wife
      Loathd by the gods, have draggd a lingring life;
      Since evry hour and moment I expire,
      Blasted from heavn by Joves avenging fire.
      This oft repeated, he stood fixd to die:
      Myself, my wife, my son, my family,
      Intreat, pray, beg, and raise a doleful cry.
      What, will he still persist, on death resolve,
      And in his ruin all his house involve!
      He still persists his reasons to maintain;
      Our prayrs, our tears, our loud laments, are vain.

      Urgd by despair, again I go to try
      The fate of arms, resolvd in fight to die:
      What hope remains, but what my death must give?
      Can I, without so dear a father, live?
      You term it prudence, what I baseness call:
      Could such a word from such a parent fall?
      If Fortune please, and so the gods ordain,
      That nothing should of ruind Troy remain,
      And you conspire with Fortune to be slain,
      The way to death is wide, th approaches near:
      For soon relentless Pyrrhus will appear,
      Reeking with Priams blood: the wretch who slew
      The son (inhuman) in the fathers view,
      And then the sire himself to the dire altar drew.
      O goddess mother, give me back to Fate;
      Your gift was undesird, and came too late!
      Did you, for this, unhappy me convey
      Thro foes and fires, to see my house a prey?
      Shall I my father, wife, and son behold,
      Weltring in blood, each others arms infold?
      Haste! gird my sword, tho spent and overcome:
      Tis the last summons to receive our doom.
      I hear thee, Fate; and I obey thy call!
      Not unrevengd the foe shall see my fall.
      Restore me to the yet unfinishd fight:
      My death is wanting to conclude the night.
      Armd once again, my glittring sword I wield,
      While th other hand sustains my weighty shield,
      And forth I rush to seek th abandond field.
      I went; but sad Creusa stoppd my way,
      And cross the threshold in my passage lay,
      Embracd my knees, and, when I would have gone,
      Shewd me my feeble sire and tender son:
      If death be your design, at least, said she,
      Take us along to share your destiny.
      If any farther hopes in arms remain,
      This place, these pledges of your love, maintain.
      To whom do you expose your fathers life,
      Your sons, and mine, your now forgotten wife!
      While thus she fills the house with clamrous cries,
      Our hearing is diverted by our eyes:
      For, while I held my son, in the short space
      Betwixt our kisses and our last embrace;
      Strange to relate, from young Iulus head
      A lambent flame arose, which gently spread
      Around his brows, and on his temples fed.
      Amazd, with running water we prepare
      To quench the sacred fire, and slake his hair;
      But old Anchises, versd in omens, reard
      His hands to heavn, and this request preferrd:
      If any vows, almighty Jove, can bend
      Thy will; if piety can prayrs commend,
      Confirm the glad presage which thou art pleasd to send.
      Scarce had he said, when, on our left, we hear
      A peal of rattling thunder roll in air:
      There shot a streaming lamp along the sky,
      Which on the winged lightning seemd to fly;
      From oer the roof the blaze began to move,
      And, trailing, vanishd in th Idaean grove.
      It swept a path in heavn, and shone a guide,
      Then in a steaming stench of sulphur died.

      The good old man with suppliant hands implord
      The gods protection, and their star adord.
      Now, now, said he, my son, no more delay!
      I yield, I follow where Heavn shews the way.
      Keep, O my country gods, our dwelling place,
      And guard this relic of the Trojan race,
      This tender child! These omens are your own,
      And you can yet restore the ruind town.
      At least accomplish what your signs foreshow:
      I stand resignd, and am prepard to go.

      He said. The crackling flames appear on high.
      And driving sparkles dance along the sky.
      With Vulcans rage the rising winds conspire,
      And near our palace roll the flood of fire.
      Haste, my dear father, (tis no time to wait,)
      And load my shoulders with a willing freight.
      Whateer befalls, your life shall be my care;
      One death, or one delivrance, we will share.
      My hand shall lead our little son; and you,
      My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue.
      Next, you, my servants, heed my strict commands:
      Without the walls a ruind temple stands,
      To Ceres hallowd once; a cypress nigh
      Shoots up her venerable head on high,
      By long religion kept; there bend your feet,
      And in divided parties let us meet.
      Our country gods, the relics, and the bands,
      Hold you, my father, in your guiltless hands:
      In me tis impious holy things to bear,
      Red as I am with slaughter, new from war,
      Till in some living stream I cleanse the guilt
      Of dire debate, and blood in battle spilt.
      Thus, ordring all that prudence could provide,
      I clothe my shoulders with a lions hide
      And yellow spoils; then, on my bending back,
      The welcome load of my dear father take;
      While on my better hand Ascanius hung,
      And with unequal paces trippd along.
      Creusa kept behind; by choice we stray
      Thro evry dark and evry devious way.
      I, who so bold and dauntless just before,
      The Grecian darts and shock of lances bore,
      At evry shadow now am seizd with fear,
      Not for myself, but for the charge I bear;
      Till, near the ruind gate arrivd at last,
      Secure, and deeming all the danger past,
      A frightful noise of trampling feet we hear.
      My father, looking thro the shades, with fear,
      Cried out: Haste, haste, my son, the foes are nigh;
      Their swords and shining armour I descry.
      Some hostile god, for some unknown offence,
      Had sure bereft my mind of better sense;
      For, while thro winding ways I took my flight,
      And sought the shelter of the gloomy night,
      Alas! I lost Creusa: hard to tell
      If by her fatal destiny she fell,
      Or weary sate, or wanderd with affright;
      But she was lost for ever to my sight.
      I knew not, or reflected, till I meet
      My friends, at Ceres now deserted seat.
      We met: not one was wanting; only she
      Deceivd her friends, her son, and wretched me.

      What mad expressions did my tongue refuse!
      Whom did I not, of gods or men, accuse!
      This was the fatal blow, that paind me more
      Than all I felt from ruind Troy before.
      Stung with my loss, and raving with despair,
      Abandoning my now forgotten care,
      Of counsel, comfort, and of hope bereft,
      My sire, my son, my country gods I left.
      In shining armour once again I sheathe
      My limbs, not feeling wounds, nor fearing death.
      Then headlong to the burning walls I run,
      And seek the danger I was forcd to shun.
      I tread my former tracks; thro night explore
      Each passage, evry street I crossd before.
      All things were full of horror and affright,
      And dreadful evn the silence of the night.
      Then to my fathers house I make repair,
      With some small glimpse of hope to find her there.
      Instead of her, the cruel Greeks I met;
      The house was filld with foes, with flames beset.
      Drivn on the wings of winds, whole sheets of fire,
      Thro air transported, to the roofs aspire.
      From thence to Priams palace I resort,
      And search the citadel and desert court.
      Then, unobservd, I pass by Junos church:
      A guard of Grecians had possessd the porch;
      There Phoenix and Ulysses watch the prey,
      And thither all the wealth of Troy convey:
      The spoils which they from ransackd houses brought,
      And golden bowls from burning altars caught,
      The tables of the gods, the purple vests,
      The peoples treasure, and the pomp of priests.
      A rank of wretched youths, with piniond hands,
      And captive matrons, in long order stands.
      Then, with ungovernd madness, I proclaim,
      Thro all the silent street, Creusas name:
      Creusa still I call; at length she hears,
      And sudden thro the shades of night appears.
      Appears, no more Creusa, nor my wife,
      But a pale spectre, larger than the life.
      Aghast, astonishd, and struck dumb with fear,
      I stood; like bristles rose my stiffend hair.
      Then thus the ghost began to soothe my grief
      Nor tears, nor cries, can give the dead relief.
      Desist, my much-lovd lord, t indulge your pain;
      You bear no more than what the gods ordain.
      My fates permit me not from hence to fly;
      Nor he, the great controller of the sky.
      Long wandring ways for you the powrs decree;
      On land hard labours, and a length of sea.
      Then, after many painful years are past,
      On Latiums happy shore you shall be cast,
      Where gentle Tiber from his bed beholds
      The flowry meadows, and the feeding folds.
      There end your toils; and there your fates provide
      A quiet kingdom, and a royal bride:
      There fortune shall the Trojan line restore,
      And you for lost Creusa weep no more.
      Fear not that I shall watch, with servile shame,
      Th imperious looks of some proud Grecian dame;
      Or, stooping to the victors lust, disgrace
      My goddess mother, or my royal race.
      And now, farewell! The parent of the gods
      Restrains my fleeting soul in her abodes:
      I trust our common issue to your care.
      She said, and gliding passd unseen in air.
      I strove to speak: but horror tied my tongue;
      And thrice about her neck my arms I flung,
      And, thrice deceivd, on vain embraces hung.
      Light as an empty dream at break of day,
      Or as a blast of wind, she rushd away.

      Thus having passd the night in fruitless pain,
      I to my longing friends return again,
      Amazd th augmented number to behold,
      Of men and matrons mixd, of young and old;
      A wretched exild crew together brought,
      With arms appointed, and with treasure fraught,
      Resolvd, and willing, under my command,
      To run all hazards both of sea and land.
      The Morn began, from Ida, to display
      Her rosy cheeks; and Phosphor led the day:
      Before the gates the Grecians took their post,
      And all pretence of late relief was lost.
      I yield to Fate, unwillingly retire,
      And, loaded, up the hill convey my sire.