Classic Poem

They whisted all, with fixèd face attent,
When prince Aeneas from the royal seat
Thus gan to speak. O Queen, it is thy will
I should renew a woe cannot be told,
How that the Greeks did spoil and overthrow
The Phrygian wealth and wailful realm of Troy,
Those ruthful things that I myself beheld,
And whereof no small part fell to my share:
Which to express, who could refrain from tears?
What Myrmidon? or yet what Dolopes?
What stern Ulysses' wagèd soldiar?
And lo, moist night now from the welkin falls,
And stars declining counsel us to rest,
But since so great is thy delight to hear
Of our mishaps and Troyes last decay,
Though to record the same my mind abhors
And plaint eschews, yet thus will I begin.
The Greeks' chieftains, all irkèd with the war
Wherein they wasted had so many years
And oft repulst by fatal destiny,
By the divine science of Minerva
A huge horse made, high raisèd like a hill,
For their return a feignèd sacrifice:
The fame whereof so wandered it at point.
Of cloven fir compacted were his ribs:
In the dark bulk they closed bodies of men
Chosen by lot, and did enstuff by stealth
The hollow womb with armèd soldiars.
There stands in sight an isle, hight Tenedon,
Rich, and of fame, while Priam's kingdom stood;
Now but a bay, and road unsure for ship.
Hither them secretly the Greeks withdrew,
Shrouding themselves under the desert shore.
And, weening we they had been fled and gone
And with that wind had fet the land of Greece,
Troye discharged her long continued dole.
The gates cast up, we issued out to play,
The Greekish camp desirous to behold,
The places void, and the forsaken coasts,
Here Pyrrhus' band; there fierce Achilles pight;
Here rode their ships; there did their battles join.
Astonied, some the scatheful gift beheld,
Behight by vow unto the chaste Minerve,
All wondering at the hugeness of the horse.
The first of all Timoetes gan advise
Within the walls to lead and draw the same,
And place it eke amid the palace court:
Whether of guile, or Troyes fate it would.
Capys, with some of judgment more discreet,
Will'd it to drown, or underset with flam.
The suspect present of the Greeks' deceit,
Or bore and gauge the hollow caves uncouth:
So diverse ran the giddy people's mind.
Lo, foremost of a rout that followed him,
Kindled Laocoon hasted from the tower,
Crying far off: "O wretched citizens!
What so great kind of frenzy fretteth you?
Deem ye the Greeks our enemies to be gone?
Or any Greekish gifts can you suppose
Devoid of guile? Is so Ulysses known?
Either the Greeks are in this timber hid,
Or this an engine is to annoy our walls,
To view our towers, and overwhelm our town.
Here lurks some craft. Good Troyans, give no trust
Unto this horse, for whatsoever it be,
I dread the Greeks--yea, when they offer gifts!'
And with that word, with all his force a dart
He lancèd then into that crooked womb
Which trembling stuck, and shook within the side:
Wherewith the caves gan hollowly resound.
And, but for Fates, and for our blind forecast,
The Greeks' device and guile had he descried:
Troy yet had stood, and Priam's towers so high.
Therewith behold, whereas the Phrygian herds
Brought to the king with clamour, all unknown
A young man, bound his hands behind his back,
Who willingly had yielden prisoner
To frame this guile and open Troyes gates
Unto the Greeks, with courage fully bent
And mind determèd either of the twain:
To work his feat, or willing yield to death.
Near him, to gaze, the Trojan youth gan flock,
And strave who most might at the captive scorn.
The Greeks' deceit behold, and by one proof
Imagine all the rest.
For in the press as he unarmèd stood,
With troubled chere, and Phrygian routs beset,
"Alas!' quod he, "what earth now, or what seas
May me receive? caitiff, what rests me now?
For whom in Greece doth no abode remain.
The Trojans eke offended seek to wreak
Their heinous wrath, with shedding of my blood.'
With this regret our hearts from rancour moved.
The bruit appeased, we ask'd him of his birth,
What news he brought, what hope made him to yield.
Then he, all dread removèd, thus began:
"O King, I shall, whatever me betide,
Say but the truth: ne first will me deny
A Grecian born; for though Fortune hath made
Sinon a wretch, she cannot make him false.
If ever came unto your ears the name,
Nobled by fame, of the sage Palamede,
Whom traitorously the Greeks condemn'd to die,
Guiltless, by wrongful doom, for that he did
Dissuade the wars: whose death they now lament:
Underneath him my father, bare of wealth,
Into his band young, and near of his blood,
In my prime years unto the war me sent.
While that by fate his state in stay did stand,
And when his realm did flourish by advice,
Of glory, then, we bare some fame and bruit.
But since his death by false Ulysses' sleight,
(I speak of things to all men well beknown)
A dreary life in doleful plaint I led,
Repining at my guiltless friend's mischance.
Ne could I, fool, refrain my tongue from threats,
That if my chance were ever to return
Victor to Arge, to follow my revenge.
With such sharp words procurèd I great hate.
Here sprang my harm. Ulysses ever sith
With new found crimes began me to affray.
In common ears false rumours gan he sow:
Weapons of wreak his guilty mind gan seek.
Ne rested aye till he by Calchas mean------
But whereunto these thankless tales in vain
Do I rehearse, and linger forth the time,
In like estate if all the Greeks ye price?
It is enough ye here rid me at once.
Ulysses, Lord! how he would this rejoice!
Yea, and either Atride would buy it dear.'
This kindled us more eager to inquire,
And to demand the cause; without suspect
Of so great mischief thereby to ensue,
Or of Greeks' craft. He then, with forgèd words
And quivering limbs, thus took his tale again.
"The Greeks ofttimes intended their return
From Troye town, with long wars all ytired,
And to dislodge: which would God they had done!
But oft the winter storms of raging seas,
And oft the boisterous winds, did them to stay;
And, chiefly, when of clinchèd ribs of fir
This horse was made, the storms roar'd in the air.
THen we in doubt to Phoebus' temple sent
Euripilus, to weet the prophecy.
From whence he brought these woful news again.
"With blood, O Greeks! and slaughter of a maid,
Ye peased the winds, when first ye came to Troy.
With blood likewise ye must seek your return:
A Greekish soul must offer'd be therefore."
"But when this sound had pierced the people's ears,
With sudden fear astonied were their minds;
The chilling cold did overrun their bones,
To whom that fate was shaped, whom Phoebus would.
Ulysses then amid the press brings in
Calchas with noise, and will'd him to discuss
The god's intent. Then some gan deem to me
The cruel wreak of him that framed the craft,
Foreseeing secretly what would ensue.
In silence then, yshrouding him from sight,
But days twice five he whisted, and refused
To death, by speech, to further any wight.
At last, as forced by false Ulysses' cry,
Of purpose he brake forth, assigning me
To the altar; whereto they granted all:
And that that erst each one dread to himself
Returnèd to my wretched death.
And now at hand drew near the woful day:
All things prepared wherewith to offer me:
Salt, corn, fillets my temples for to bind.
I scaped the death, I grant, and brake the bands,
And lurkèd in a marish all the night
Among the ooze, while they did set their sails;
If it so be that they indeed so did.
Now rests no hope my native land to see,
My children dear, nor long desirèd sire,
On whom, perchance, they shall wreak my escape:
Those harmless wights shall for my fault be slain.
"Then, by the gods, to whom all truth is known,
By faith unfiled, if any anywhere
With mortal folk remains, I thee beseech,
O King, thereby rue on my travail great:
Pity a wretch that guiltless suffereth wrong.'
Life to these tears, with pardon eke, we grant.
And Priam first himself commands to loose
His gyves, his bands, and friendly to him said:
"Whoso thou art, learn to forget the Greeks:
Henceforth be ours; and answer me with truth:
Whereto was wrought the mass of this huge horse?
"Whose the devise? and whereto should it tend?
What holy vow? or engine for the wars?'
Then he, instruct with wiles and Greekish craft,
His loosèd hands lift upward to the stars:
"Ye everlasting lamps! I testify,
Whose power divine may not be violate,
The altar and sword,' quoth he, "that I have scaped,
Ye sacred bands I wore as yielden host;
Lawful be it for me to break mine oath
To Greeks; lawful to hate their nation;
Lawful be it to sparkle in the air
Their secrets all, whatso they keep in close:
For free am I from Greece and from their laws.
So be it, Troy, and saved by me from scathe,
Keep faith with me, and stand to thy behest;
If I speak truth, and opening things of weight,
For grant of life requite thee large amends.
The Greeks' whole hope of undertaken war
In Pallas' help consisted evermore.
But sith the time that wicked Diomed,
Ulysses eke, that forger of all guile,
Adventured from the holy sacred fane
For to bereave Dame Pallas' fatal form,
And slew the watches of the chiefest tower,
And then away the holy statue stole,
That were so bold with hands embrued in blood,
The virgin goddess' veils for to defile--
Sith then their hope gan fail, their hope to fall,
Their power appair, their goddess' grace withdraw;
Which with no doubtful signs she did declare.
Scarce was the statue to our tents ybrought
But she gan stare with sparkled eyes of flame;
Along her limbs the salt sweat trickled down:
Yea thrice herself--a hideous thing to tell--
In glances bright she glittered from the ground,
Holding in hand her targe and quivering spear.
Calchas by sea then bade us haste our flight,
Whose engines might not break the walls of Troy,
Unless at Greece they would renew their lots,
Restore the god that they by sea had brought
In warpèd keels. To Arge sith they be come,
They pease their gods, and war afresh prepare,
And 'cross the seas unlookèd for eftsoons
They will return. This order Calchas set.
"This figure made they for the aggrievèd god
In Pallas' stead, to cleanse their heinous fault.
Which mass he willèd to be rearèd high
Toward the skies, and ribbèd all with oak,
So that your gates ne wall might it receive;
Ne yet your people might defencèd be
By the good zeal of old devotion.
For if your hands did Pallas' gift defile,
To Priam's realm great mischief should befall:
Which fate the gods first on himself return.
But had your own hands brought it in your town,
Asia should pass, and carry offered war
In Greece, even to the walls of Pelops' town,
And we and ours that destiny endure.'
By suchlike wiles of Sinon, the forsworn,
His tale with us did purchase credit; some
Trapt by deceit, some forcèd by his tears,
Whom neither Diomed nor great Achille,
Nor ten years' war ne a thousand sail could daunt.
Us caitiffs then a far more dreadful chance
Befell, that troubled our unarmèd breasts.
Whiles Laocoon, that chosen was by lot
Neptunus' priest, did sacrifice a bull
Before the holy altar, suddenly
From Tenedon, behold in circles great
By the calm seas come fleeting adders twain,
Which plied towards the shore (I loathe to tell)
With rearèd breast lift up above the seas:
Whose bloody crests aloft the waves were seen.
The hinder part swam hidden in the flood;
Their grisly backs were linkèd manifold.
With sound of broken waves they gat the strand,
With glowing eyen, tainted with blood and fire;
Whose waltring tongues did lick their hissing mouths.
We fled away; our face the blood forsook;
But they with gait direct to Lacon ran.
And first of all each serpent doth enwrap
The bodies small of his two tender sons,
Whose wretched limbs they bit, and fed thereon.
Then raught they him, who had his weapon caught
To rescue them; twice winding him about,
With folded knots and circled tails, his waist:
Their scalèd backs did compass twice his neck,
With rearèd hands aloft and stretchèd throats.
He with his hands strave to unloose the knots
Whose sacred fillets all besprinkled were
With filth of gory blood and venom rank,
And to the stars such dreadful shouts he sent,
Like to the sound the roaring bull forth lows
Which from the altar wounded doth astart,
The swerving axe when he shakes from his neck.
The serpents twain, with hasted trail they glide
To Pallas' temple, and her towers of height:
Under the feet of the which goddess stern,
Hidden behind her target's boss they crept.
New gripes of dread then pierce our trembling breasts.
They said Lacon's deserts had dearly bought
His heinous deed that piercèd had with steel
The sacred bulk, and thrown the wicked lance.
The people cried with sundry greeing shouts
To bring the horse to Pallas' temple blive,
In hope thereby the goddess' wrath to appease.
We cleft the walls and closures of the town,
Whereto all help, and underset the feet
With sliding rolls, and bound his neck with ropes.
This fatal gin thus overclamb our walls,
Stuft with arm'd men, about the which there ran
Children and maids, that holy carols sang;
And well were they whose hands might touch the cords.
With threatening cheer thus slided through our town
The subtil tree, to Pallas' temple-ward.
O native land! Ilion! and of the gods
The mansion place! O warlike walls of Troy!
Four times it stopt in the entry of our gate;
Four times the harness clatter'd in the womb.
But we go on, unsound of memory,
And blinded eke by rage persever still:
This fatal monster in the fane we place.
Cassandra then, inspired with Phoebus' sprite,
Her prophet's lips, yet never of us [be]leev'd,
Disclosèd eft, forespeaking things to come.
We wretches, lo, that last day of our life
With boughs of feast the town and temples deck.
With this the sky gan whirl about the sphere:
The cloudy night gan thicken from the sea,
With mantles spread that cloakèd earth and skies,
And eke the treason of the Greekish guile.
The watchmen lay disperst, to take their rest,
Whose wearied limbs sound sleep had then oppresst.
When well in order comes the Grecian fleet
From Tenedon, toward the coasts well known,
By friendly silence of the quiet moon.
When the king's ship put forth his mark of fire,
Sinon, preserved by froward destiny,
Let forth the Greeks enclosèd in the womb:
The closures eke of pine by stealth unpinn'd,
Whereby the Greeks restorèd were to air.
With joy down hasting from the hollow tree,
With cords let down did slide unto the ground
The great captains: Sthenel, and Thessander,
And fierce Ulysses, Athamas, and Thoas,
Machaon first, and then king Menelae,
Epeus eke that did the engine forge,
And straight invade the town yburied then
With wine and sleep. And first the watch is slain:
Then gates unfold to let their fellows in,
They join themselves with the conjurèd bands.
It was the time when, granted from the gods,
The first sleep creeps most sweet in weary folk.
Lo, in my dream before mine eyes, methought,
With rueful chere I saw where Hector stood,
(Out of whose eyes there gushèd streams of tears)
Drawn at a cart as he of late had been,
Distain'd with bloody dust, whose feet were bowln
With the strait cords wherewith they halèd him.
Ay me, what one! that Hector how unlike,
Which erst return'd clad with Achilles' spoils,
Or when he threw into the Greekish ships
The Trojan flame, so was his beard defiled,
His crispèd locks all cluster'd with his blood,
With all such wounds, as many he received
About the walls of that his native town!
Whom frankly, thus, methought I spake unto,
With bitter tears and doleful deadly voice:
"O Troyan light! O only hope of thine!
What lets so long thee staid? or from what coasts,
Our most desirèd Hector, dost thou come?
Whom, after slaughter of thy many friends
And travail of the people and thy town,
All-wearied, lord, how gladly we behold!
What sorry chance hath stained thy lively face?
Or why see I these wounds, alas so wide?'
He answer'd nought, nor in my vain demands
Abode, but from the bottom of his breast
Sighing he said: "Flee, flee, O goddess' son!
And save thee from