But the rest fired the tents, wherein erewhileThey slept, and sailed the wide sea in their ships.Two mighty-hearted captains ordered these,Nestor and Agamemnon lord of spears.Fain had they also entered that great Horse,But all the host withheld them, bidding stayWith them a-shipboard, ordering their array:For men far better work the works of warWhen their kings oversee them; therefore theseAbode without, albeit mighty men.So came they swiftly unto Tenedos' shore,And dropped the anchor-stones, then leapt in hasteForth of the ships, and silent waited thereKeen-watching till the signal-torch should flash.
But nigh the foe were they in the Horse, and nowLooked they for death, and now to smite the town;And on their hopes and fears uprose the dawn.
Then marked the Trojans upon Hellespont's strandThe smoke upleaping yet through air: no moreSaw they the ships which brought to them from GreeceDestruction dire. With joy to the shore they ran,But armed them first, for fear still haunted themThen marked they that fair-carven Horse, and stoodMarvelling round, for a mighty work was there.A hapless-seeming man thereby they spied,Sinon; and this one, that one questioned himTouching the Danaans, as in a great ringThey compassed him, and with unangry wordsFirst questioned, then with terrible threatenings.Then tortured they that man of guileful soulLong time unceasing. Firm as a rock abodeThe unquivering limbs, the unconquerable will.His ears, his nose, at last they shore awayIn every wise tormenting him, untilHe should declare the truth, whither were goneThe Danaans in their ships, what thing the HorseConcealed within it. He had armed his mindWith resolution, and of outrage foulRecked not; his soul endured their cruel stripes,Yea, and the bitter torment of the fire;For strong endurance into him Hera breathed;And still he told them the same guileful tale:"The Argives in their ships flee overseaWeary of tribulation of endless war.This horse by Calchas' counsel fashioned theyFor wise Athena, to propitiateHer stern wrath for that guardian image stol'nFrom Troy. And by Odysseus' prompting IWas marked for slaughter, to be sacrificedTo the sea-powers, beside the moaning waves,To win them safe return. But their intentI marked; and ere they spilt the drops of wine,And sprinkled hallowed meal upon mine head,Swiftly I fled, and, by the help of Heaven,I flung me down, clasping the Horse's feet;And they, sore loth, perforce must leave me thereDreading great Zeus's daughter mighty-souled."
In subtlety so he spake, his soul untamedBy pain; for a brave man's part is to endureTo the uttermost. And of the Trojans someBelieved him, others for a wily knaveHeld him, of whose mind was Laocoon.Wisely he spake: "A deadly fraud is this,"He said, "devised by the Achaean chiefs!"And cried to all straightway to burn the Horse,And know if aught within its timbers lurked.
Yea, and they had obeyed him, and had 'scapedDestruction; but Athena, fiercely wrothWith him, the Trojans, and their city, shookEarth's deep foundations 'neath Laocoon's feet.Straight terror fell on him, and trembling bowedThe knees of the presumptuous: round his headHorror of darkness poured; a sharp pang thrilledHis eyelids; swam his eyes beneath his brows;His eyeballs, stabbed with bitter anguish, throbbedEven from the roots, and rolled in frenzy of pain.Clear through his brain the bitter torment piercedEven to the filmy inner veil thereof;Now bloodshot were his eyes, now ghastly green;Anon with rheum they ran, as pours a streamDown from a rugged crag, with thawing snowMade turbid. As a man distraught he seemed:All things he saw showed double, and he groanedFearfully; yet he ceased not to exhortThe men of Troy, and recked not of his pain.Then did the Goddess strike him utterly blind.Stared his fixed eyeballs white from pits of blood;And all folk groaned for pity of their friend,And dread of the Prey-giver, lest he had sinnedIn folly against her, and his mind was thusWarped to destruction yea, lest on themselvesLike judgment should be visited, to avengeThe outrage done to hapless Sinon's flesh,Whereby they hoped to wring the truth from him.So led they him in friendly wise to Troy,Pitying him at the last. Then gathered all,And o'er that huge Horse hastily cast a rope,And made it fast above; for under its feetSmooth wooden rollers had Epeius laid,That, dragged by Trojan hands, it might glide onInto their fortress. One and all they haledWith multitudinous tug and strain, as whenDown to the sea young men sore-labouring dragA ship; hard-crushed the stubborn rollers groan,As, sliding with weird shrieks, the keel descendsInto the sea-surge; so that host with toilDragged up unto their city their own doom,Epeius' work. With great festoons of flowersThey hung it, and their own heads did they wreathe,While answering each other pealed the flutes.Grimly Enyo laughed, seeing the endOf that dire war; Hera rejoiced on high;Glad was Athena. When the Trojans cameUnto their city, brake they down the walls,Their city's coronal, that the Horse of DeathMight be led in. Troy's daughters greeted itWith shouts of salutation; marvelling allGazed at the mighty work where lurked their doom.
But still Laocoon ceased not to exhortHis countrymen to burn the Horse with fire:They would not hear, for dread of the Gods' wrath.But then a yet more hideous punishmentAthena visited on his hapless sons.A cave there was, beneath a rugged cliffExceeding high, unscalable, whereinDwelt fearful monsters of the deadly broodOf Typhon, in the rock-clefts of the isleCalydna that looks Troyward from the sea.Thence stirred she up the strength of serpents twain,And summoned them to Troy. By her uprousedThey shook the island as with earthquake: roaredThe sea; the waves disparted as they came.Onward they swept with fearful-flickering tongues:Shuddered the very monsters of the deep:Xanthus' and Simois' daughters moaned aloud,The River-nymphs: the Cyprian Queen looked downIn anguish from Olympus. Swiftly they cameWhither the Goddess sped them: with grim jawsWhetting their deadly fangs, on his hapless sonsSprang they. All Trojans panic-stricken fled,Seeing those fearsome dragons in their town.No man, though ne'er so dauntless theretofore,Dared tarry; ghastly dread laid hold on allShrinking in horror from the monsters. ScreamedThe women; yea, the mother forgat her child,Fear-frenzied as she fled: all Troy becameOne shriek of fleers, one huddle of jostling limbs:The streets were choked with cowering fugitives.Alone was left Laocoon with his sons,For death's doom and the Goddess chained their feet.Then, even as from destruction shrank the lads,Those deadly fangs had seized and ravined upThe twain, outstretching to their sightless sireAgonized hands: no power to help had he.Trojans far off looked on from every sideWeeping, all dazed. And, having now fulfilledUpon the Trojans Pallas' awful hest,Those monsters vanished 'neath the earth; and stillStands their memorial, where into the faneThey entered of Apollo in PergamusThe hallowed. Therebefore the sons of TroyGathered, and reared a cenotaph for thoseWho miserably had perished. Over itTheir father from his blind eyes rained the tears:Over the empty tomb their mother shrieked,Boding the while yet worse things, wailing o'erThe ruin wrought by folly of her lord,Dreading the anger of the Blessed Ones.As when around her void nest in a brakeIn sorest anguish moans the nightingaleWhose fledglings, ere they learned her plaintive song,A hideous serpent's fangs have done to death,And left the mother anguish, endless woe,And bootless crying round her desolate home;So groaned she for her children's wretched death,So moaned she o'er the void tomb; and her pangsWere sharpened by her lord's plight stricken blind.
While she for children and for husband moaned—These slain, he of the sun's light portionless—The Trojans to the Immortals sacrificed,Pouring the wine. Their hearts beat high with hopeTo escape the weary stress of woeful war.Howbeit the victims burned not, and the flamesDied out, as though 'neath heavy-hissing rain;And writhed the smoke-wreaths blood-red, and the thighsQuivering from crumbling altars fell to earth.Drink-offerings turned to blood, Gods' statues wept,And temple-walls dripped gore: along them rolledEchoes of groaning out of depths unseen;And all the long walls shuddered: from the towersCame quick sharp sounds like cries of men in pain;And, weirdly shrieking, of themselves slid backThe gate-bolts. Screaming "Desolation!" wailedThe birds of night. Above that God-built burgA mist palled every star; and yet no cloudWas in the flashing heavens. By Phoebus' faneWithered the bays that erst were lush and green.Wolves and foul-feeding jackals came and howledWithin the gates. Ay, other signs untoldAppeared, portending woe to Dardanus' sonsAnd Troy: yet no fear touched the Trojans' heartsWho saw all through the town those portents dire:Fate crazed them all, that midst their revellingSlain by their foes they might fill up their doom.
One heart was steadfast, and one soul clear-eyed,Cassandra. Never her words were unfulfilled;Yet was their utter truth, by Fate's decree,Ever as idle wind in the hearers' ears,That no bar to Troy's ruin might be set.She saw those evil portents all through TroyConspiring to one end; loud rang her cry,As roars a lioness that mid the brakesA hunter has stabbed or shot, whereat her heartMaddens, and down the long hills rolls her roar,And her might waxes tenfold; so with heartAflame with prophecy came she forth her bower.Over her snowy shoulders tossed her hairStreaming far down, and wildly blazed her eyes.Her neck writhed, like a sapling in the windShaken, as moaned and shrieked that noble maid:"O wretches! into the Land of Darkness nowWe are passing; for all round us full of fireAnd blood and dismal moan the city is.Everywhere portents of calamityGods show: destruction yawns before your feet.Fools! ye know not your doom: still ye rejoiceWith one consent in madness, who to TroyHave brought the Argive Horse where ruin lurks!Oh, ye believe not me, though ne'er so loudI cry! The Erinyes and the ruthless Fates,For Helen's spousals madly wroth, through TroyDart on wild wings. And ye, ye are banqueting thereIn your last feast, on meats befouled with gore,When now your feet are on the Path of Ghosts!"
Then cried a scoffing voice an ominous word:"Why doth a raving tongue of evil speech,Daughter of Priam, make thy lips to cryWords empty as wind? No maiden modestyWith purity veils thee: thou art compassed roundWith ruinous madness; therefore all men scornThee, babbler! Hence, thine evil bodings speakTo the Argives and thyself! For thee doth waitAnguish and shame yet bitterer than befellPresumptuous Laocoon. Shame it wereIn folly to destroy the Immortals' gift."
So scoffed a Trojan: others in like sortCried shame on her, and said she spake but lies,Saying that ruin and Fate's heavy strokeWere hard at hand. They knew not their own doom,And mocked, and thrust her back from that huge HorseFor fain she was to smite its beams apart,Or burn with ravening fire. She snatched a brandOf blazing pine-wood from the hearth and ranIn fury: in the other hand she bareA two-edged halberd: on that Horse of DoomShe rushed, to cause the Trojans to beholdWith their own eyes the ambush hidden there.But straightway from her hands they plucked and flungAfar the fire and steel, and careless turnedTo the feast; for darkened o'er them their last night.Within the horse the Argives joyed to hearThe uproar of Troy's feasters setting at naughtCassandra, but they marvelled that she knewSo well the Achaeans' purpose and device.
As mid the hills a furious pantheress,Which from the steading hounds and shepherd-folkDrive with fierce rush, with savage heart turns backEven in departing, galled albeit by darts:So from the great Horse fled she, anguish-rackedFor Troy, for all the ruin she foreknew.
How Troy in the night was taken and sacked with fire and slaughter.
So feasted they through Troy, and in their midstLoud pealed the flutes and pipes: on every handWere song and dance, laughter and cries confusedOf banqueters beside the meats and wine.They, lifting in their hands the beakers brimmed,Recklessly drank, till heavy of brain they grew,Till rolled their fluctuant eyes. Now and againSome mouth would babble the drunkard's broken words.The household gear, the very roof and wallsSeemed as they rocked: all things they looked on seemedWhirled in wild dance. About their eyes a veilOf mist dropped, for the drunkard's sight is dimmed,And the wit dulled, when rise the fumes to the brain:And thus a heavy-headed feaster cried:"For naught the Danaans mustered that great hostHither! Fools, they have wrought not their intent,But with hopes unaccomplished from our townLike silly boys or women have they fled."
So cried a Trojan wit-befogged with wine,Fool, nor discerned destruction at the doors.
When sleep had locked his fetters everywhereThrough Troy on folk fulfilled of wine and meat,Then Sinon lifted high a blazing torchTo show the Argive men the splendour of fire.But fearfully the while his heart beat, lestThe men of Troy might see it, and the plotBe suddenly revealed. But on their bedsSleeping their last sleep lay they, heavy with wine.The host saw, and from Tenedos set sail.
Then nigh the Horse drew Sinon: softly he called,Full softly, that no man of Troy might hear,But only Achaea's chiefs, far from whose eyesSleep hovered, so athirst were they for fight.They heard, and to Odysseus all inclinedTheir ears: he bade them urgently go forthSoftly and fearlessly; and they obeyedThat battle-summons, pressing in hot hasteTo leap to earth: but in his subtletyHe stayed them from all thrusting eagerly forth.But first himself with swift unfaltering hands,Helped of Epeius, here and there unbarredThe ribs of the Horse of beams: above the planksA little he raised his head, and gazed aroundOn all sides, if he haply might descryOne Trojan waking yet. As when a wolf,With hunger stung to the heart, comes from the hills,And ravenous for flesh draws nigh the flockPenned in the wide fold, slinking past the menAnd dogs that watch, all keen to ward the sheep,Then o'er the fold-wall leaps with soundless feet;So stole Odysseus down from the Horse: with himFollowed the war-fain lords of Hellas' League,Orderly stepping down the ladders, whichEpeius framed for paths of mighty men,For entering and for passing forth the Horse,Who down them now on this side, that side, streamedAs fearless wasps startled by stroke of axeIn angry mood pour all together forthFrom the tree-bole, at sound of woodman's blow;So battle-kindled forth the Horse they pouredInto the midst of that strong city of TroyWith hearts that leapt expectant. [With swift handsSnatched they the brands from dying hearths, and firedTemple and palace. Onward then to the gatesSped they,] and swiftly slew the slumbering guards,[Then held the gate-towers till their friends should come.]Fast rowed the host the while; on swept the shipsOver the great flood: Thetis made their pathsStraight, and behind them sent a driving windSpeeding them, and the hearts Achaean glowed.Swiftly to Hellespont's shore they came, and thereBeached they the keels again, and deftly dealtWith whatso tackling appertains to ships.Then leapt they aland, and hasted on to TroySilent as sheep that hurry to the foldFrom woodland pasture on an autumn eve;So without sound of voices marched they onUnto the Trojans' fortress, eager allTo help those mighty chiefs with foes begirt.Now these—as famished wolves fierce-glaring roundFall on a fold mid the long forest-hills,While sleeps the toil-worn watchman, and they rendThe sheep on every hand within the wallIn darkness, and all round [are heaped the slain;So these within the city smote and slew,As swarmed the awakened foe around them; yet,Fast as they slew, aye faster closed on themThose thousands, mad to thrust them from the gates.]Slipping in blood and stumbling o'er the dead[Their line reeled,] and destruction loomed o'er them,Though Danaan thousands near and nearer drew.
But when the whole host reached the walls of Troy,Into the city of Priam, breathing rageOf fight, with reckless battle-lust they poured;And all that fortress found they full of warAnd slaughter, palaces, temples, horriblyBlazing on all sides; glowed their hearts with joy.In deadly mood then charged they on the foe.Ares and fell Enyo maddened there:Blood ran in torrents, drenched was all the earth,As Trojans and their alien helpers died.Here were men lying quelled by bitter deathAll up and down the city in their blood;Others on them were falling, gasping forthTheir life's strength; others, clutching in their handsTheir bowels that looked through hideous gashes forth,Wandered in wretched plight around their homes:Others, whose feet, while yet asleep they lay,Had been hewn off, with groans unutterableCrawled mid the corpses. Some, who had rushed to fight,Lay now in dust, with hands and heads hewn off.Some were there, through whose backs, even as they fled,The spear had passed, clear through to the breast, and someWhose waists the lance had pierced, impaling themWhere sharpest stings the anguish-laden steel.And all about the city dolorous howlsOf dogs uprose, and miserable moansOf strong men stricken to death; and every homeWith awful cries was echoing. Rang the shrieksOf women, like to screams of cranes, which seeAn eagle stooping on them from the sky,Which have no courage to resist, but screamLong terror-shrieks in dread of Zeus's bird;So here, so there the Trojan women wailed,Some starting from their sleep, some to the groundLeaping: they thought not in that agonyOf robe and zone; in naught but tunics cladDistraught they wandered: others found nor veilNor cloak to cast about them, but, as cameOnward their foes, they stood with beating heartsTrembling, as lettered by despair, essaying,All-hapless, with their hands alone to hideTheir nakedness. And some in frenzy of woe:Their tresses tore, and beat their breasts, and screamed.Others against that stormy torrent of foesRecklessly rushed, insensible of fear,Through mad desire to aid the perishing,Husbands or children; for despair had givenHigh courage. Shrieks had startled from their sleepSoft little babes whose hearts had never knownTrouble—and there one with another layGasping their lives out! Some there were whose dreamsChanged to a sudden vision of doom. All roundThe fell Fates gloated horribly o'er the slain.And even as swine be slaughtered in the courtOf a rich king who makes his folk a feast,So without number were they slain. The wineLeft in the mixing-bowls was blent with bloodGruesomely. No man bare a sword unstainedWith murder of defenceless folk of Troy,Though he were but a weakling in fair fight.And as by wolves or jackals sheep are torn,What time the furnace-breath of midnoon-heatDarts down, and all the flock beneath the shadeAre crowded, and the shepherd is not there,But to the homestead bears afar their milk;And the fierce brutes leap on them, tear their throats,Gorge to the full their ravenous maws, and thenLap the dark blood, and linger still to slayAll in mere lust of slaughter, and provideAn evil banquet for that shepherd-lord;So through the city of Priam Danaans slewOne after other in that last fight of all.No Trojan there was woundless, all men's limbsWith blood in torrents spilt were darkly dashed.
Nor seetheless were the Danaans in the fray:With beakers some were smitten, with tables some,Thrust in the eyes of some were burning brandsSnatched from the hearth; some died transfixed with spitsYet left within the hot flesh of the swineWhereon the red breath of the Fire-god beat;Others struck down by bills and axes keenGasped in their blood: from some men's hands were shornThe fingers, who, in wild hope to escapeThe imminent death, had clutched the blades of swords.And here in that dark tumult one had hurledA stone, and crushed the crown of a friend's head.Like wild beasts trapped and stabbed within a foldOn a lone steading, frenziedly they fought,Mad with despair-enkindled rage, beneathThat night of horror. Hot with battle-lustHere, there, the fighters rushed and hurried throughThe palace of Priam. Many an Argive fellSpear-slain; for whatso Trojan in his hallsMight seize a sword, might lift a spear in hand,Slew foes—ay, heavy though he were with wine.
Upflashed a glare unearthly through the town,For many an Argive bare in hand a torchTo know in that dim battle friends from foes.
Then Tydeus' son amid the war-storm metSpearman Coroebus, lordly Mygdon's son,And 'neath the left ribs pierced him with the lanceWhere run the life-ways of man's meat and drink;So met him black death borne upon the spear:Down in dark blood he fell mid hosts of slain.Ah fool! the bride he won not, Priam's childCassandra, yea, his loveliest, for whose sakeTo Priam's burg but yesterday he came,And vaunted he would thrust the Argives backFrom Ilium. Never did the Gods fulfilHis hope: the Fates hurled doom upon his head.With him the slayer laid Eurydamas low,Antenor's gallant son-in-law, who mostFor prudence was pre-eminent in Troy.Then met he Ilioneus the elder of days,And flashed his terrible sword forth. All the limbsOf that grey sire were palsied with his fear:He put forth trembling hands, with one he caughtThe swift avenging sword, with one he claspedThe hero's knees. Despite his fury of war,A moment paused his wrath, or haply a GodHeld back the sword a space, that that old manMight speak to his fierce foe one word of prayer.Piteously cried he, terror-overwhelmed:"I kneel before thee, whosoe'er thou beOf mighty Argives. Oh compassionateMy suppliant hands! Abate thy wrath! To slayThe young and valiant is a glorious thing;But if thou smite an old man, small renownWaits on thy prowess. Therefore turn from meThine hands against young men, if thou dost hopeEver to come to grey hairs such as mine."
So spake he; but replied strong Tydeus' son:"Old man, I look to attain to honoured age;But while my Strength yet waxeth, will not ISpare any foe, but hurl to Hades all.The brave man makes an end of every foe."
Then through his throat that terrible warrior draveThe deadly blade, and thrust it straight to whereThe paths of man's life lead by swiftest wayBlood-paved to doom: death palsied his poor strengthBy Diomedes' hands. Thence rushed he onSlaying the Trojans, storming in his mightAll through their fortress: pierced by his long spearEurycoon fell, Perimnestor's son renowned.Amphimedon Aias slew: Agamemnon smoteDamastor's son: Idomeneus struck downMimas: by Meges Deiopites died.
Achilles' son with his resistless lanceSmote godlike Pammon; then his javelin piercedPolites in mid-rush: AntiphonusDead upon these he laid, all Priam's sons.Agenor faced him in the fight, and fell:Hero on hero slew he; everywhereStalked at his side Death's black doom manifest:Clad in his sire's might, whomso he met he slew.Last, on Troy's king in murderous mood he came.By Zeus the Hearth-lord's altar. Seeing him,Old Priam knew him and quaked not; for he longedHimself to lay his life down midst his sons;And craving death to Achilles' seed he spake:"Fierce-hearted son of Achilles strong in war,Slay me, and pity not my misery.I have no will to see the sun's light more,Who have suffered woes so many and so dread.With my sons would I die, and so forgetAnguish and horror of war. Oh that thy sireHad slain me, ere mine eyes beheld aflameIllium, had slain me when I brought to himRansom for Hector, whom thy father slew.He spared me—so the Fates had spun my threadOf destiny. But thou, glut with my bloodThy fierce heart, and let me forget my pain."Answered Achilles' battle-eager son:"Fain am I, yea, in haste to grant thy prayer.A foe like thee will I not leave alive;For naught is dearer unto men than life."
With one stroke swept he off that hoary headLightly as when a reaper lops an earIn a parched cornfield at the harvest-tide.With lips yet murmuring low it rolled afarFrom where with quivering limbs the body layAmidst dark-purple blood and slaughtered men.So lay he, chiefest once of all the worldIn lineage, wealth, in many and goodly sons.Ah me, not long abides the honour of man,But shame from unseen ambush leaps on himSo clutched him Doom, so he forgat his woes.
Yea, also did those Danaan car-lords hurlFrom a high tower the babe Astyanax,Dashing him out of life. They tore the childOut of his mother's arms, in wrathful hateOf Hector, who in life had dealt to themSuch havoc; therefore hated they his seed,And down from that high rampart flung his child—A wordless babe that nothing knew of war!As when amid the mountains hungry wolvesChase from the mother's side a suckling calf,And with malignant cunning drive it o'erAn echoing cliffs edge, while runs to and froIts dam with long moans mourning her dear child,And a new evil followeth hard on her,For suddenly lions seize her for a prey;So, as she agonized for her son, the foeTo bondage haled with other captive thrallsThat shrieking daughter of King Eetion.Then, as on those three fearful deaths she thoughtOf husband, child, and father, AndromaeheLonged sore to die. Yea, for the royally-bornBetter it is to die in war, than doThe service of the thrall to baser folk.All piteously the broken-hearted cried:"Oh hurl my body also from the wall,Or down the cliff, or cast me midst the fire,Ye Argives! Woes are mine unutterable!For Peleus' son smote down my noble fatherIn Thebe, and in Troy mine husband slew,Who unto me was all mine heart's desire,Who left me in mine halls one little child,My darling and my pride—of all mine hopesIn him fell merciless Fate hath cheated me!Oh therefore thrust this broken-hearted oneNow out of life! Hale me not overseasMingled with spear-thralls; for my soul henceforthHath no more pleasure in life, since God hath slainMy nearest and my dearest! For me waitsTrouble and anguish and lone homelessness!"
So cried she, longing for the grave; for vileIs life to them whose glory is swallowed upOf shame: a horror is the scorn of men.But, spite her prayers, to thraldom dragged they her.
In all the homes of Troy lay dying men,And rose from all a lamentable cry,Save only Antenor's halls; for unto himThe Argives rendered hospitality's debt,For that in time past had his roof receivedAnd sheltered godlike Menelaus, whenHe with Odysseus came to claim his own.Therefore the mighty sons of Achaea showedGrace to him, as to a friend, and spared his lifeAnd substance, fearing Themis who seeth all.
Then also princely Anchises' noble son—Hard had he fought through Priam's burg that nightWith spear and valour, and many had he slain—When now he saw the city set aflameBy hands of foes, saw her folk perishingIn multitudes, her treasures spoiled, her wivesAnd children dragged to thraldom from their homes,No more he hoped to see the stately wallsOf his birth-city, but bethought him nowHow from that mighty ruin to escape.And as the helmsman of a ship, who toilsOn the deep sea, and matches all his craftAgainst the winds and waves from every sideRushing against him in the stormy time,Forspent at last, both hand and heart, when nowThe ship is foundering in the surge, forsakesThe helm, to launch forth in a little boat,And heeds no longer ship and lading; soAnchises' gallant son forsook the townAnd left her to her foes, a sea of fire.His son and father alone he snatched from death;The old man broken down with years he setOn his broad shoulders with his own strong hands,And led the young child by his small soft hand,Whose little footsteps lightly touched the ground;And, as he quaked to see that work of deathsHis father led him through the roar of fight,And clinging hung on him the tender child,Tears down his soft cheeks streaming. But the manO'er many a body sprang with hurrying feet,And in the darkness in his own despiteTrampled on many. Cypris guided them,Earnest to save from that wild ruin her son,His father, and his child. As on he pressed,The flames gave back before him everywhere:The blast of the Fire-god's breath to right and leftWas cloven asunder. Spears and javelins hurledAgainst him by the Achaeans harmless fell.Also, to stay them, Calchas cried aloud:"Forbear against Aeneas' noble headTo hurl the bitter dart, the deadly spear!Fated he is by the high Gods' decreeTo pass from Xanthus, and by Tiber's floodTo found a city holy and gloriousThrough all time, and to rule o'er tribes of menFar-sundered. Of his seed shall lords of earthRule from the rising to the setting sun.Yea, with the Immortals ever shall he dwell,Who is son of Aphrodite lovely-tressed.From him too is it meet we hold our handsBecause he hath preferred his father and sonTo gold, to all things that might profit a manWho fleeth exiled to an alien land.This one night hath revealed to us a manFaithful to death to his father and his child."
Then hearkened they, and as a God did allLook on him. Forth the city hasted heWhither his feet should bear him, while the foeMade havoc still of goodly-builded Troy.
Then also Menelaus in Helen's bowerFound, heavy with wine, ill-starred Deiphobus,And slew him with the sword: but she had fledAnd hidden her in the palace. O'er the bloodOf that slain man exulted he, and cried:"Dog! I, even I have dealt thee unwelcome deathThis day! No dawn divine shall meet thee againAlive in Troy—ay, though thou vaunt thyselfSpouse of the child of Zeus the thunder-voiced!Black death hath trapped thee slain in my wife's bower!Would I had met Alexander too in fightEre this, and plucked his heart out! So my griefHad been a lighter load. But he hath paidAlready justice' debt, hath passed beneathDeath's cold dark shadow. Ha, small joy to theeMy wife was doomed to bring! Ay, wicked menNever elude pure Themis: night and dayHer eyes are on them, and the wide world throughAbove the tribes of men she floats in air,Holpen of Zeus, for punishment of sin."
On passed he, dealing merciless death to foes,For maddened was his soul with jealousy.Against the Trojans was his bold heart fullOf thoughts of vengeance, which were now fulfilledBy the dread Goddess Justice, for that theirsWas that first outrage touching Helen, theirsThat profanation of the oaths, and theirsThat trampling on the blood of sacrificeWhen their presumptuous souls forgat the Gods.Therefore the Vengeance-friends brought woes on themThereafter, and some died in fighting field,Some now in Troy by board and bridal bower.
Menelaus mid the inner chambers foundAt last his wife, there cowering from the wrathOf her bold-hearted lord. He glared on her,Hungering to slay her in his jealous rage.But winsome Aphrodite curbed him, struckOut of his hand the sword, his onrush reined,Jealousy's dark cloud swept she away, and stirredLove's deep sweet well-springs in his heart and eyes.Swept o'er him strange amazement: powerless allWas he to lift the sword against her neck,Seeing her splendour of beauty. Like a stockOf dead wood in a mountain forest, whichNo swiftly-rushing blasts of north-winds shake,Nor fury of south-winds ever, so he stood,So dazed abode long time. All his great strengthWas broken, as he looked upon his wife.And suddenly had he forgotten allYea, all her sins against her spousal-troth;For Aphrodite made all fade away,She who subdueth all immortal heartsAnd mortal. Yet even so he lifted upFrom earth his sword, and made as he would rushUpon his wife but other was his intent,Even as he sprang: he did but feign, to cheatAchaean eyes. Then did his brother stayHis fury, and spake with pacifying words,Fearing lest all they had toiled for should be lost:"Forbear wrath, Menelaus, now: 'twere shameTo slay thy wedded wife, for whose sake weHave suffered much affliction, while we soughtVengeance on Priam. Not, as thou dost deem,Was Helen's the sin, but his who set at naughtThe Guest-lord, and thine hospitable board;So with death-pangs hath God requited him."
Then hearkened Menelaus to his rede.But the Gods, palled in dark clouds, mourned for Troy,A ruined glory save fair-tressed TritonisAnd Hera: their hearts triumphed, when they sawThe burg of god-descended Priam destroyed.Yet not the wise heart Trito-born herselfWas wholly tearless; for within her faneOutraged Cassandra was of Oileus sonLust-maddened. But grim vengeance upon himEre long the Goddess wreaked, repaying insultWith mortal sufferance. Yea, she would not lookUpon the infamy, but clad herselfWith shame and wrath as with a cloak: she turnedHer stern eyes to the temple-roof, and groanedThe holy image, and the hallowed floorQuaked mightily. Yet did he not forbearHis mad sin, for his soul was lust-distraught.
Here, there, on all sides crumbled flaming homesIn ruin down: scorched dust with smoke was blent:Trembled the streets to the awful thunderous crash.Here burned Aeneas' palace, yonder flamedAntimachus' halls: one furnace was the heightOf fair-built Pergamus; flames were roaring roundApollo's temple, round Athena's fane,And round the Hearth-lord's altar: flames licked upFair chambers of the sons' sons of a king;And all the city sank down into hell.
Of Trojans some by Argos' sons were slain,Some by their own roofs crashing down in fire,Giving at once in death and tomb to them:Some in their own throats plunged the steel, when foesAnd fire were in the porch together seen:Some slew their wives and children, and flung themselvesDead on them, when despair had done its workOf horror. One, who deemed the foe afar,Caught up a vase, and, fain to quench the flame,Hasted for water. Leapt unmarked on himAn Argive, and his spirit, heavy with wine,Was thrust forth from the body by the spear.Clashed the void vase above him, as he fellBackward within the house. As through his hallAnother fled, the burning roof-beam crashedDown on his head, and swift death came with it.And many women, as in frenzied flightThey rushed forth, suddenly remembered babesLeft in their beds beneath those burning roofs:With wild feet sped they back—the house fell inUpon them, and they perished, mother and child.Horses and dogs in panic through the townFled from the flames, trampling beneath their feetThe dead, and dashing into living menTo their sore hurt. Shrieks rang through all the town.In through his blazing porchway rushed a manTo rescue wife and child. Through smoke and flameBlindly he groped, and perished while he criedTheir names, and pitiless doom slew those within.
The fire-glow upward mounted to the sky,The red glare o'er the firmament spread its wings,And all the tribes of folk that dwelt aroundBeheld it, far as Ida's mountain-crests,And sea-girt Tenedos, and Thracian Samos.And men that voyaged on the deep sea cried:"The Argives have achieved their mighty taskAfter long toil for star-eyed Helen's sake.All Troy, the once queen-city, burns in fire:For all their prayers, no God defends them now;For strong Fate oversees all works of men,And the renownless and obscure to fameShe raises, and brings low the exalted ones.Oft out of good is evil brought, and goodFrom evil, mid the travail and change of life."
So spake they, who from far beheld the glareOf Troy's great burning. Compassed were her folkWith wailing misery: through her streets the foeExulted, as when madding blasts turmoilThe boundless sea, what time the Altar ascendsTo heaven's star-pavement, turned to the misty southOveragainst Arcturus tempest-breathed,And with its rising leap the wild winds forth,And ships full many are whelmed 'neath ravening seas;Wild as those stormy winds Achaea's sonsRavaged steep Ilium while she burned in flame.As when a mountain clothed with shaggy woodsBurns swiftly in a fire-blast winged with winds,And from her tall peaks goeth up a roar,And all the forest-children this way and thatRush through the wood, tormented by the flame;So were the Trojans perishing: there was noneTo save, of all the Gods. Round these were stakedThe nets of Fate, which no man can escape.
Then were Demophoon and AcamasBy mighty Theseus' mother Aethra met.Yearning to see them was she guided onTo meet them by some Blessed One, the while'Wildered from war and fire she fled. They sawIn that red glare a woman royal-tall,Imperial-moulded, and they weened that thisWas Priam's queen, and with swift eagernessLaid hands on her, to lead her captive thenceTo the Danaans; but piteously she moaned:"Ah, do not, noble sons of warrior Greeks,To your ships hale me, as I were a foe!I am not of Trojan birth: of Danaans cameMy princely blood renowned. In Troezen's hallsPittheus begat me, Aegeus wedded me,And of my womb sprang Theseus glory-crowned.For great Zeus' sake, for your dear parents' sake,I pray you, if the seed of Theseus cameHither with Atreus' sons, O bring ye meUnto their yearning eyes. I trow they beYoung men like you. My soul shall be refreshedIf living I behold those chieftains twain."
Hearkening to her they called their sire to mind,His deeds for Helen's sake, and how the sonsOf Zeus the Thunderer in the old time smoteAphidnae, when, because these were but babes,Their nurses hid them far from peril of fight;And Aethra they remembered—all she enduredThrough wars, as mother-in-law at first, and thrallThereafter of Helen. Dumb for joy were they,Till spake Demophoon to that wistful one:"Even now the Gods fulfil thine heart's desire:We whom thou seest are the sons of him,Thy noble son: thee shall our loving handsBear to the ships: with joy to Hellas' soilThee will we bring, where once thou wast a queen."
Then his great father's mother clasped him roundWith clinging arms: she kissed his shoulders broad,His head, his breast, his bearded lips she kissed,And Acamas kissed withal, the while she shedGlad tears on these who could not choose but weep.As when one tarries long mid alien men,And folk report him dead, but suddenlyHe cometh home: his children see his face,And break into glad weeping; yea, and he,His arms around them, and their little headsUpon his shoulders, sobs: echoes the homeWith happy mourning's music-beating wings;So wept they with sweet sighs and sorrowless moans.
Then, too, affliction-burdened Priam's child,Laodice, say they, stretched her hands to heaven,Praying the mighty Gods that earth might gapeTo swallow her, ere she defiled her handWith thralls' work; and a God gave ear, and rentDeep earth beneath her: so by Heaven's decreeDid earth's abysmal chasm receive the maidIn Troy's last hour. Electra's self withal,The Star-queen lovely-robed, shrouded her formIn mist and cloud, and left the Pleiad-band,Her sisters, as the olden legend tells.Still riseth up in sight of toil-worn menTheir bright troop in the skies; but she aloneHides viewless ever, since the hallowed townOf her son Dardanus in ruin fell,When Zeus most high from heaven could help her not,Because to Fate the might of Zeus must bow;And by the Immortals' purpose all these thingsHad come to pass, or by Fate's ordinance.
Still on Troy's folk the Argives wreaked their wrath,And battle's issues Strife Incarnate held.
How the conquerors sailed from Troy unto judgment of tempest and shipwreck.
Then rose from Ocean Dawn the golden-thronedUp to the heavens; night into Chaos sank.And now the Argives spoiled fair-fenced Troy,And took her boundless treasures for a prey.Like river-torrents seemed they, that sweep down,By rain, floods swelled, in thunder from the hills,And seaward hurl tall trees and whatsoe'erGrows on the mountains, mingled with the wreckOf shattered cliff and crag; so the long linesOf Danaans who had wasted Troy with fireSeemed, streaming with her plunder to the ships.Troy's daughters therewithal in scattered bandsThey haled down seaward—virgins yet unwed,And new-made brides, and matrons silver-haired,And mothers from whose bosoms foes had tornBabes for the last time closing lips on breasts.
Amidst of these Menelaus led his wifeForth of the burning city, having wroughtA mighty triumph—joy and shame were his.Cassandra heavenly-fair was haled the prizeOf Agamemnon: to Achilles' sonAndromache had fallen: HecubaOdysseus dragged unto his ship. The tearsPoured from her eyes as water from a spring;Trembled her limbs, fear-frenzied was her heart;Rent were her hoary tresses and besprentWith ashes of the hearth, cast by her handsWhen she saw Priam slain and Troy aflame.And aye she deeply groaned for thraldom's dayThat trapped her vainly loth. Each hero ledA wailing Trojan woman to his ship.Here, there, uprose from these the wild lament,The woeful-mingling cries of mother and babe.As when with white-tusked swine the herdmen driveTheir younglings from the hill-pens to the plainAs winter closeth in, and evermoreEach answereth each with mingled plaintive cries;So moaned Troy's daughters by their foes enslaved,Handmaid and queen made one in thraldom's lot.
But Helen raised no lamentation: shameSat on her dark-blue eyes, and cast its flushOver her lovely cheeks. Her heart beat hardWith sore misgiving, lest, as to the shipsShe passed, the Achaeans might mishandle her.Therefore with fluttering soul she trembled sore;And, her head darkly mantled in her veil,Close-following trod she in her husband's steps,With cheek shame-crimsoned, like the Queen of Love,What time the Heaven-abiders saw her claspedIn Ares' arms, shaming in sight of allThe marriage-bed, trapped in the myriad-meshedToils of Hephaestus: tangled there she layIn agony of shame, while thronged aroundThe Blessed, and there stood Hephaestus' self:For fearful it is for wives to be beheldBy husbands' eyes doing the deed of shame.Lovely as she in form and roseate blushPassed Helen mid the Trojan captives onTo the Argive ships. But the folk all aroundMarvelled to see the glory of lovelinessOf that all-flawless woman. No man daredOr secretly or openly to castReproach on her. As on a Goddess allGazed on her with adoring wistful eyes.As when to wanderers on a stormy sea,After long time and passion of prayer, the sightOf fatherland is given; from deadly deepsEscaped, they stretch hands to her joyful-souled;So joyed the Danaans all, no man of themRemembered any more war's travail and pain.Such thoughts Cytherea stirred in them, for graceTo Helen starry-eyed, and Zeus her sire.
Then, when he saw that burg beloved destroyed,Xanthus, scarce drawing breath from bloody war,Mourned with his Nymphs for ruin fallen on Troy,Mourned for the city of Priam blotted out.As when hail lashes a field of ripened wheat,And beats it small, and smites off all the earsWith merciless scourge, and levelled with the groundAre stalks, and on the earth is all the grainWoefully wasted, and the harvest's lordIs stricken with deadly grief; so Xanthus' soulWas utterly whelmed in grief for Ilium madeA desolation; grief undying was his,Immortal though he was. Mourned SimoisAnd long-ridged Ida: all who on Ida dweltWailed from afar the ruin of Priam's town.
But with loud laughter of glee the Argives soughtTheir galleys, chanting the triumphant mightOf victory, chanting now the Blessed Gods,Now their own valour, and Epeius' workEver renowned. Their song soared up to heaven,Like multitudinous cries of daws, when breaksA day of sunny calm and windless airAfter a ruining storm: from their glad heartsSo rose the joyful clamour, till the GodsHeard and rejoiced in heaven, all who had helpedWith willing hands the war-fain Argive men.But chafed those others which had aided Troy,Beholding Priam's city wrapped in flame,Yet powerless for her help to overrideFate; for not Cronos' Son can stay the handOf Destiny, whose might transcendeth allThe Immortals, and Zeus sanctioneth all her deeds.
The Argives on the flaming altar-woodLaid many thighs of oxen, and made hasteTo spill sweet wine on their burnt offerings,Thanking the Gods for that great work achieved.And loudly at the feast they sang the praiseOf all the mailed men whom the Horse of TreeHad ambushed. Far-famed Sinon they extolledFor that dire torment he endured of foes;Yea, song and honour-guerdons without endAll rendered him: and that resolved soulGlad-hearted joyed for the Argives victory,And for his own misfeaturing sorrowed not.For to the wise and prudent man renownIs better far than gold, than goodlihead,Than all good things men have or hope to win.
So, feasting by the ships all void of fear,Cried one to another ever and anon:"We have touched the goal of this long war, have wonGlory, have smitten our foes and their great town!Now grant, O Zeus, to our prayers safe home-return!"But not to all the Sire vouchsafed return.
Then rose a cunning harper in their midst.And sang the song of triumph and of peaceRe-won, and with glad hearts untouched by careThey heard; for no more fear of war had they,But of sweet toil of law-abiding daysAnd blissful, fleeting hours henceforth they dreamed.All the War's Story in their eager earsHe sang—how leagued peoples gathering metAt hallowed Aulis—how the invincible strengthOf Peleus' son smote fenced cities twelveIn sea-raids, how he marched o'er leagues on leaguesOf land, and spoiled eleven—all he wroughtIn fight with Telephus and Eetion—How he slew giant Cycnus—all the toilOf war that through Achilles' wrath befellThe Achaeans—how he dragged dead Hector roundHis own Troy's wall, and how he slew in fightPenthesileia and Tithonus' son:—How Aias laid low Glaucus, lord of spears,Then sang he how the child of Aeacus' sonStruck down Eurypylus, and how the shaftsOf Philoctetes dealt to Paris death.Then the song named all heroes who passed inTo ambush in the Horse of Guile, and hymnedThe fall of god-descended Priam's burg;The feast he sang last, and peace after war;Then many another, as they listed, sang.
But when above those feasters midnight's starsHung, ceased the Danaans from the feast and wine,And turned to sleep's forgetfulness of care,For that with yesterday's war-travail allWere wearied; wherefore they, who fain all nightHad revelled, needs must cease: how loth soe'er,Sleep drew them thence; here, there, soft slumbered they.
But in his tent Menelaus lovinglyWith bright-haired Helen spake; for on their eyesSleep had not fallen yet. The Cyprian QueenBrooded above their souls, that olden loveMight be renewed, and heart-ache chased away.
Helen first brake the silence, and she said:"O Menelaus, be not wroth with me!Not of my will I left thy roof, thy bed,But Alexander and the sons of TroyCame upon me, and snatched away, when thouWast far thence. Oftentimes did I essayBy the death-noose to perish wretchedly,Or by the bitter sword; but still they stayedMine hand, and still spake comfortable wordsTo salve my grief for thee and my sweet child.For her sake, for the sake of olden love,And for thine own sake, I beseech thee now,Forget thy stern displeasure against thy wife."
Answered her Menelaus wise of wit:"No more remember past griefs: seal them upHid in thine heart. Let all be locked withinThe dim dark mansion of forgetfulness.What profits it to call ill deeds to mind?"
Glad was she then: fear flitted from her heart,And came sweet hope that her lord's wrath was dead.She cast her arms around him, and their eyesWith tears were brimming as they made sweet moan;And side by side they laid them, and their heartsThrilled with remembrance of old spousal joy.And as a vine and ivy entwine their stemsEach around other, that no might of windAvails to sever them, so clung these twainTwined in the passionate embrace of love.
When came on these too sorrow-drowning sleep,Even then above his son's head rose and stoodGodlike Achilles' mighty shade, in formAs when he lived, the Trojans' bane, the joyOf Greeks, and kissed his neck and flashing eyesLovingly, and spake comfortable words:"All hail, my son! Vex not thine heart with griefFor thy dead sire; for with the Blessed GodsNow at the feast I sit. Refrain thy soulFrom sorrow, and plant my strength within thy mind.Be foremost of the Argives ever; yieldTo none in valour, but in council bowBefore thine elders: so shall all acclaimThy courtesy. Honour princely men and wise;For the true man is still the true man's friend,Even as the vile man cleaveth to the knave.If good thy thought be, good shall be thy deeds:But no man shall attain to Honour's height,Except his heart be right within: her stemIs hard to climb, and high in heaven spreadHer branches: only they whom strength and toilAttend, strain up to pluck her blissful fruit,Climbing the Tree of Honour glow-crowned.Thou therefore follow fame, and let thy soulBe not in sorrow afflicted overmuch,Nor in prosperity over-glad. To friends,To comrades, child and wife, be kindly of heart,Remembering still that near to all men standThe gates of doom, the mansions of the dead:For humankind are like the flower of grass,The blossom of spring; these fade the while those bloom:Therefore be ever kindly with thy kind.Now to the Argives say—to Atreus' sonAgamemnon chiefly—if my battle-toilRound Priam's walls, and those sea-raids I ledOr ever I set foot on Trojan land,Be in their hearts remembered, to my tombBe Priam's daughter Polyxeina led—Whom as my portion of the spoil I claim—And sacrificed thereon: else shall my wrathAgainst them more than for Briseis burn.The waves of the great deep will I turmoilTo bar their way, upstirring storm on storm,That through their own mad folly pining awayHere they may linger long, until to meThey pour drink-offerings, yearning sore for home.But, when they have slain the maiden, I grudge notThat whoso will may bury her far from me."
Then as a wind-breath swift he fleeted thence,And came to the Elysian Plain, wheretoA path to heaven reacheth, for the feetAscending and descending of the Blest.Then the son started up from sleep, and calledHis sire to mind, and glowed the heart in him.
When to wide heaven the Child of Mist uprose,Scattering night, unveiling earth and air,Then from their rest upsprang Achaea's sonsYearning for home. With laughter 'gan they haleDown to the sea the keels: but lo, their hasteWas reined in by Achilles' mighty son:
He assembled them, and told his sire's behest:"Hearken, dear sons of Argives battle-staunch,To this my glorious father's hest, to meSpoken in darkness slumbering on my bed:He saith, he dwells with the Immortal Gods:He biddeth you and Atreus' son the kingTo bring, as his war-guerdon passing-fair,To his dim dark tomb Polyxeina queenly-robed,To slay her there, but far thence bury her.But if ye slight him, and essay to sailThe sea, he threateneth to stir up the wavesTo bar your path upon the deep, and hereStorm-bound long time to hold you, ships and men."
Then hearkened they, and as to a God they prayed;For even now a storm-blast on the seaUpheaved the waves, broad-backed and thronging fastMore than before beneath the madding wind.Tossed the great deep, smit by Poseidon's handsFor a grace to strong Achilles. All the windsSwooped on the waters. Prayed the Dardans allTo Achilles, and a man to his fellow cried:"Great Zeus's seed Achilles verily was;Therefore is he a God, who in days pastDwelt among us; for lapse of dateless timeMakes not the sons of Heaven to fade away."
Then to Achilles' tomb the host returned,And led the maid, as calf by herdmen draggedFor sacrifice, from woodland pastures tornFrom its mother's side, and lowing long and loudIt moans with anguished heart; so Priam's childWailed in the hands of foes. Down streamed her tearsAs when beneath the heavy sacks of sandOlives clear-skinned, ne'er blotched by drops of storm,Pour out their oil, when the long levers creakAs strong men strain the cords; so poured the tearsOf travail-burdened Priam's daughter, haledTo stern Achilles' tomb, tears blent with moans.Drenched were her bosom-folds, glistened the dropsOn flesh clear-white as costly ivory.
Then, to crown all her griefs, yet sharper painFell on the heart of hapless Hecuba.Then did her soul recall that awful dream,The vision of sleep of that night overpast:Herseemed that on Achilles' tomb she stoodMoaning, her hair down-streaming to the ground,And from her breasts blood dripped to earth the while,And drenched the tomb. Fear-haunted touching this,Foreboding all calamity, she wailedPiteously; far rang her wild lament.As a dog moaning at her master's door,Utters long howls, her teats with milk distent,Whose whelps, ere their eyes opened to the light,Her lords afar have flung, a prey to kites;And now with short sharp cries she plains, and nowLong howling: the weird outcry thrills the air;So wailed and shrieked for her child Hecuba:"Ah me! what sorrows first or last shall ILament heart-anguished, who am full of woes?Those unimagined ills my sons, my kingHave suffered? or my city, or daughters shamed?Or my despair, my day of slavery?Oh, the grim fates have caught me in a netOf manifold ills! O child, they have spun for theeDread weird of unimagined misery!They have thrust thee away, when near was Hymen's hymn,From thine espousals, marked thee for destructionDark, unendurable, unspeakable!For lo, a dead man's heart, Achilles' heart,Is by our blood made warm with life to-day!O child, dear child, that I might die with thee,That earth might swallow me, ere I see thy doom!"So cried she, weeping never-ceasing tears,For grief on bitter grief encompassed her.But when these reached divine Achilles' tomb,Then did his son unsheathe the whetted sword,His left hand grasped the maid, and his right handWas laid upon the tomb, and thus he cried:"Hear, father, thy son's prayer, hear all the prayersOf Argives, and be no more wroth with us!Lo, unto thee now all thine heart's desireWill we fulfil. Be gracious to us thou,And to our praying grant sweet home-return."
Into the maid's throat then he plunged the bladeOf death: the dear life straightway sobbed she forth,With the last piteous moan of parting breath.Face-downward to the earth she fell: all roundHer flesh was crimsoned from her neck, as snowStained on a mountain-side with scarlet bloodRushing, from javelin-smitten boar or bear.The maiden's corpse then gave they, to be borneUnto the city, to Antenor's home,For that, when Troy yet stood, he nurtured herIn his fair halls, a bride for his own sonEurymachus. The old man buried her,King Priam's princess-child, nigh his own house,By Ganymedes' shrine, and overagainstThe temple of Pallas the Unwearied One.Then were the waves stilled, and the blast was hushedTo sleep, and all the sea-flood lulled to calm.
Swift with glad laughter hied they to the ships,Hymning Achilles and the Blessed Ones.A feast they made, first severing thighs of kineFor the Immortals. Gladsome sacrificeSteamed on all sides: in cups of silver and goldThey drank sweet wine: their hearts leaped up with hopeOf winning to their fatherland again.But when with meats and wine all these were filled,Then in their eager ears spake Neleus' son:"Hear, friends, who have 'scaped the long turmoil of war,That I may say to you one welcome word:Now is the hour of heart's delight, the hourOf home-return. Away! Achilles soulHath ceased from ruinous wrath; Earth-shaker stillsThe stormy wave, and gentle breezes blow;No more the waves toss high. Haste, hale the shipsDown to the sea. Now, ho for home-return!"
Eager they heard, and ready made the ships.Then was a marvellous portent seen of men;For all-unhappy Priam's queen was changedFrom woman's form into a pitiful hound;And all men gathered round in wondering awe.Then all her body a God transformed to stone—A mighty marvel for men yet unborn!At Calchas' bidding this the Achaeans boreIn a swift ship to Hellespont's far side.Then down to the sea in haste they ran the keels:Their wealth they laid aboard, even all the spoilTaken, or ever unto Troy they came,From conquered neighbour peoples; therewithalWhatso they took from Ilium, wherein mostThey joyed, for untold was the sum thereof.And followed with them many a captive maidWith anguished heart: so went they aboard the ships.But Calchas would not with that eager hostLaunch forth; yea, he had fain withheld therefromAll the Achaeans, for his prophet-soulForeboded dread destruction looming o'erThe Argives by the Rocks Capherean.But naught they heeded him; malignantFate Deluded men's souls: only AmphilochusThe wise in prophet-lore, the gallant sonOf princely Amphiaraus, stayed with him.Fated were these twain, far from their own land,To reach Pamphylian and Cilician burgs;And this the Gods thereafter brought to pass.
But now the Achaeans cast the hawsers looseFrom shore: in haste they heaved the anchor-stones.Roared Hellespont beneath swift-flashing oars;Crashed the prows through the sea. About the bowsMuch armour of slain foes was lying heaped:Along the bulwarks victory-trophies hungCountless. With garlands wreathed they all the ships,Their heads, the spears, the shields wherewith they had foughtAgainst their foes. The chiefs stood on the prows,And poured into the dark sea once and againWine to the Gods, to grant them safe return.But with the winds their prayers mixed; far awayVainly they floated blent with cloud and air.
With anguished hearts the captive maids looked backOn Ilium, and with sobs and moans they wailed,Striving to hide their grief from Argive eyes.Clasping their knees some sat; in misery someVeiled with their hands their faces; others nursedYoung children in their arms: those innocentsNot yet bewailed their day of bondage, norTheir country's ruin; all their thoughts were setOn comfort of the breast, for the babe's heartHath none affinity with sorrow. AllSat with unbraided hair and pitiful breastsScored with their fingers. On their cheeks there layStains of dried tears, and streamed thereover nowFresh tears full fast, as still they gazed abackOn the lost hapless home, wherefrom yet roseThe flames, and o'er it writhed the rolling smoke.Now on Cassandra marvelling they gazed,Calling to mind her prophecy of doom;But at their tears she laughed in bitter scorn,In anguish for the ruin of her land.
Such Trojans as had scaped from pitiless warGathered to render now the burial-duesUnto their city's slain. Antenor ledTo that sad work: one pyre for all they raised.
But laughed with triumphing hearts the Argive men,As now with oars they swept o'er dark sea-ways,Now hastily hoised the sails high o'er the ships,And fleeted fast astern Dardania-land,And Hero Achilles' tomb. But now their hearts,How blithe soe'er, remembered comrades slain,And sorely grieved, and wistfully they lookedBack to the alien's land; it seemed to themAye sliding farther from their ships. Full soonBy Tenedos' beaches slipt they: now they ranBy Chrysa, Sminthian Phoebus' holy place,And hallowed Cilla. Far away were glimpsedThe windy heights of Lesbos. Rounded nowWas Lecton's foreland, where is the last peakOf Ida. In the sails loud hummed the wind,Crashed round the prows the dark surge: the long wavesShowed shadowy hollows, far the white wake gleamed.
Now had the Argives all to the hallowed soilOf Hellas won, by perils of the deepUnscathed, but for Athena Daughter of ZeusThe Thunderer, and her indignation's wrath.When nigh Euboea's windy heights they drew,She rose, in anger unappeasableAgainst the Locrian king, devising doomCrushing and pitiless, and drew nigh to ZeusLord of the Gods, and spake to him apartIn wrath that in her breast would not be pent:"Zeus, Father, unendurable of GodsIs men's presumption! They reck not of thee,Of none of the Blessed reck they, forasmuchAs vengeance followeth after sin no more;And ofttimes more afflicted are good menThan evil, and their misery hath no end.Therefore no man regardeth justice: shameLives not with men! And I, I will not dwellHereafter in Olympus, not be namedThy daughter, if I may not be avengedOn the Achaeans' reckless sin! Behold,Within my very temple Oileus' sonHath wrought iniquity, hath pitied notCassandra stretching unregarded handsOnce and again to me; nor did he dreadMy might, nor reverenced in his wicked heartThe Immortal, but a deed intolerableHe did. Therefore let not thy spirit divineBegrudge mine heart's desire, that so all menMay quake before the manifest wrath of Gods."
Answered the Sire with heart-assuaging words:"Child, not for the Argives' sake withstand I thee;But all mine armoury which the Cyclops' mightTo win my favour wrought with tireless hands,To thy desire I give. O strong heart, hurlA ruining storm thyself on the Argive fleet."
Then down before the aweless Maid he castSwift lightning, thunder, and deadly thunderbolt;And her heart leapt, and gladdened was her soul.She donned the stormy Aegis flashing far,Adamantine, massy, a marvel to the Gods,Whereon was wrought Medusa's ghastly head,Fearful: strong serpents breathing forth the blastOf ravening fire were on the face thereof.Crashed on the Queen's breast all the Aegis-links,As after lightning crashes the firmament.Then grasped she her father's weapons, which no GodSave Zeus can lift, and wide Olympus shook.Then swept she clouds and mist together on high;Night over earth was poured, haze o'er the sea.Zeus watched, and was right glad as broad heaven's floorRocked 'neath the Goddess's feet, and crashed the sky,As though invincible Zeus rushed forth to war.Then sped she Iris unto Acolus,From heaven far-flying over misty seas,To bid him send forth all his buffering windsO'er iron-bound Caphereus' cliffs to sweepCeaselessly, and with ruin of madding blastsTo upheave the sea. And Iris heard, and swiftShe darted, through cloud-billows plunging down—Thou hadst said: "Lo, in the sky dark water and fire!"And to Aeolia came she, isle of caves,Of echoing dungeons of mad-raging windsWith rugged ribs of mountain overarched,Whereby the mansion stands of AeolusHippotas' son. Him found she therewithinWith wife and twelve sons; and she told to himAthena's purpose toward the homeward-boundAchaeans. He denied her not, but passedForth of his halls, and in resistless handsUpswung his trident, smiting the mountain-sideWithin whose chasm-cell the wild winds dweltTempestuously shrieking. Ever pealedWeird roarings of their voices round its vaults.Cleft by his might was the hill-side; forth they poured.He bade them on their wings bear blackest stormTo upheave the sea, and shroud Caphereus' heights.Swiftly upsprang they, ere their king's commandWas fully spoken. Mightily moaned the seaAs they rushed o'er it; waves like mountain-cliffsFrom all sides were uprolled. The Achaeans' heartsWere terror-palsied, as the uptowering surgeNow swung the ships up high through palling mist,Now hurled them rolled as down a precipiceTo dark abysses. Up through yawning deepsSome power resistless belched the boiling sandFrom the sea's floor. Tossed in despair, fear-dazed,Men could not grasp the oar, nor reef the sailAbout the yard-arm, howsoever fain,Ere the winds rent it, could not with the sheetsTrim the torn canvas, buffeted so were theyBy ruining blasts. The helmsman had no powerTo guide the rudder with his practised hands,For those ill winds hurled all confusedly.No hope of life was left them: blackest night,Fury of tempest, wrath of deathless Gods,Raged round them. Still Poseidon heaved and swungThe merciless sea, to work the heart's desireOf his brother's glorious child; and she on highStormed with her lightnings, ruthless in her rage.Thundered from heaven Zeus, in purpose fixedTo glorify his daughter. All the islesAnd mainlands round were lashed by leaping seasNigh to Euboea, where the Power divineScourged most with unrelenting stroke on strokeThe Argives. Groan and shriek of perishing menRang through the ships; started great beams and snappedWith ominous sound, for ever ship on shipWith shivering timbers crashed. With hopeless toilMen strained with oars to thrust back hulls that reeledDown on their own, but with the shattered planksWere hurled into the abyss, to perish thereBy pitiless doom; for beams of foundering shipsFrom this, from that side battered out their lives,And crushed were all their bodies wretchedly.Some in the ships fell down, and like dead menLay there; some, in the grip of destiny,Clinging to oars smooth-shaven, tried to swim;Some upon planks were tossing. Roared the surgeFrom fathomless depths: it seemed as though sea, sky,And land were blended all confusedly.