Then, when all others feared, a man far-famed Made answer, Sinon, marked of destiny To bring the great work to accomplishment. Therefore with worship all men looked on him, The loyal of heart, as in the midst he spake: "Odysseus, and all ye Achaean chiefs, This work for which ye crave will I perform— Yea, though they torture me, though into fire Living they thrust me; for mine heart is fixed Not to escape, but die by hands of foes, Except I crown with glory your desire."

Stoutly he spake: right glad the Argives were; And one said: "How the Gods have given to-day High courage to this man! He hath not been Heretofore valiant. Heaven is kindling him To be the Trojans' ruin, but to us Salvation. Now full soon, I trow, we reach The goal of grievous war, so long unseen."

So a voice murmured mid the Achaean host. Then, to stir up the heroes, Nestor cried: "Now is the time, dear sons, for courage and strength: Now do the Gods bring nigh the end of toil: Now give they victory to our longing hands. Come, bravely enter ye this cavernous Horse. For high renown attendeth courage high. Oh that my limbs were mighty as of old, When Aeson's son for heroes called, to man Swift Argo, when of the heroes foremost I Would gladly have entered her, but Pelias The king withheld me in my own despite. Ah me, but now the burden of years—O nay, As I were young, into the Horse will I Fearlessly! Glory and strength shall courage give."

Answered him golden-haired Achilles' son: "Nestor, in wisdom art thou chief of men; But cruel age hath caught thee in his grip: No more thy strength may match thy gallant will; Therefore thou needs must unto Tenedos' strand. We will take ambush, we the youths, of strife Insatiate still, as thou, old sire, dost bid."

Then strode the son of Neleus to his side, And kissed his hands, and kissed the head of him Who offered thus himself the first of all To enter that huge horse, being peril-fain, And bade the elder of days abide without. Then to the battle-eager spake the old: "Thy father's son art thou! Achilles' might And chivalrous speech be here! O, sure am I That by thine hands the Argives shall destroy The stately city of Priam. At the last, After long travail, glory shall be ours, Ours, after toil and tribulation of war; The Gods have laid tribulation at men's feet But happiness far off, and toil between: Therefore for men full easy is the path To ruin, and the path to fame is hard, Where feet must press right on through painful toil."

He spake: replied Achilles' glorious son: "Old sire, as thine heart trusteth, be it vouchsafed In answer to our prayers; for best were this: But if the Gods will otherwise, be it so. Ay, gladlier would I fall with glory in fight Than flee from Troy, bowed 'neath a load of shame."

Then in his sire's celestial arms he arrayed His shoulders; and with speed in harness sheathed Stood the most mighty heroes, in whose healers Was dauntless spirit. Tell, ye Queens of Song, Now man by man the names of all that passed Into the cavernous Horse; for ye inspired My soul with all my song, long ere my cheek Grew dark with manhood's beard, what time I fed My goodly sheep on Smyrna's pasture-lea, From Hermus thrice so far as one may hear A man's shout, by the fane of Artemis, In the Deliverer's Grove, upon a hill Neither exceeding low nor passing high.

Into that cavernous Horse Achilles' son First entered, strong Menelaus followed then, Odysseus, Sthenelus, godlike Diomede, Philoctetes and Menestheus, Anticlus, Thoas and Polypoetes golden-haired, Aias, Eurypylus, godlike Thrasymede, Idomeneus, Meriones, far-famous twain, Podaleirius of spears, Eurymachus, Teucer the godlike, fierce Ialmenus, Thalpius, Antimachus, Leonteus staunch, Eumelus, and Euryalus fair as a God, Amphimachus, Demophoon, Agapenor, Akamas, Meges stalwart Phyleus' son— Yea, more, even all their chiefest, entered in, So many as that carven Horse could hold. Godlike Epeius last of all passed in, The fashioner of the Horse; in his breast lay The secret of the opening of its doors And of their closing: therefore last of all He entered, and he drew the ladders up Whereby they clomb: then made he all secure, And set himself beside the bolt. So all In silence sat 'twixt victory and death.

But the rest fired the tents, wherein erewhile They 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 stay With them a-shipboard, ordering their array: For men far better work the works of war When their kings oversee them; therefore these Abode without, albeit mighty men. So came they swiftly unto Tenedos' shore, And dropped the anchor-stones, then leapt in haste Forth of the ships, and silent waited there Keen-watching till the signal-torch should flash.

But nigh the foe were they in the Horse, and now Looked 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 strand The smoke upleaping yet through air: no more Saw they the ships which brought to them from Greece Destruction dire. With joy to the shore they ran, But armed them first, for fear still haunted them Then marked they that fair-carven Horse, and stood Marvelling round, for a mighty work was there. A hapless-seeming man thereby they spied, Sinon; and this one, that one questioned him Touching the Danaans, as in a great ring They compassed him, and with unangry words First questioned, then with terrible threatenings. Then tortured they that man of guileful soul Long time unceasing. Firm as a rock abode The unquivering limbs, the unconquerable will. His ears, his nose, at last they shore away In every wise tormenting him, until He should declare the truth, whither were gone The Danaans in their ships, what thing the Horse Concealed within it. He had armed his mind With resolution, and of outrage foul Recked 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 oversea Weary of tribulation of endless war. This horse by Calchas' counsel fashioned they For wise Athena, to propitiate Her stern wrath for that guardian image stol'n From Troy. And by Odysseus' prompting I Was marked for slaughter, to be sacrificed To the sea-powers, beside the moaning waves, To win them safe return. But their intent I 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 there Dreading great Zeus's daughter mighty-souled."

In subtlety so he spake, his soul untamed By pain; for a brave man's part is to endure To the uttermost. And of the Trojans some Believed him, others for a wily knave Held 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 'scaped Destruction; but Athena, fiercely wroth With him, the Trojans, and their city, shook Earth's deep foundations 'neath Laocoon's feet. Straight terror fell on him, and trembling bowed The knees of the presumptuous: round his head Horror of darkness poured; a sharp pang thrilled His eyelids; swam his eyes beneath his brows; His eyeballs, stabbed with bitter anguish, throbbed Even from the roots, and rolled in frenzy of pain. Clear through his brain the bitter torment pierced Even to the filmy inner veil thereof; Now bloodshot were his eyes, now ghastly green; Anon with rheum they ran, as pours a stream Down from a rugged crag, with thawing snow Made turbid. As a man distraught he seemed: All things he saw showed double, and he groaned Fearfully; yet he ceased not to exhort The 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 sinned In folly against her, and his mind was thus Warped to destruction yea, lest on themselves Like judgment should be visited, to avenge The 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 feet Smooth wooden rollers had Epeius laid, That, dragged by Trojan hands, it might glide on Into their fortress. One and all they haled With multitudinous tug and strain, as when Down to the sea young men sore-labouring drag A ship; hard-crushed the stubborn rollers groan, As, sliding with weird shrieks, the keel descends Into the sea-surge; so that host with toil Dragged up unto their city their own doom, Epeius' work. With great festoons of flowers They hung it, and their own heads did they wreathe, While answering each other pealed the flutes. Grimly Enyo laughed, seeing the end Of that dire war; Hera rejoiced on high; Glad was Athena. When the Trojans came Unto their city, brake they down the walls, Their city's coronal, that the Horse of Death Might be led in. Troy's daughters greeted it With shouts of salutation; marvelling all Gazed at the mighty work where lurked their doom.

But still Laocoon ceased not to exhort His countrymen to burn the Horse with fire: They would not hear, for dread of the Gods' wrath. But then a yet more hideous punishment Athena visited on his hapless sons. A cave there was, beneath a rugged cliff Exceeding high, unscalable, wherein Dwelt fearful monsters of the deadly brood Of Typhon, in the rock-clefts of the isle Calydna that looks Troyward from the sea. Thence stirred she up the strength of serpents twain, And summoned them to Troy. By her uproused They shook the island as with earthquake: roared The 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 down In anguish from Olympus. Swiftly they came Whither the Goddess sped them: with grim jaws Whetting their deadly fangs, on his hapless sons Sprang 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 all Shrinking in horror from the monsters. Screamed The women; yea, the mother forgat her child, Fear-frenzied as she fled: all Troy became One 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 up The twain, outstretching to their sightless sire Agonized hands: no power to help had he. Trojans far off looked on from every side Weeping, all dazed. And, having now fulfilled Upon the Trojans Pallas' awful hest, Those monsters vanished 'neath the earth; and still Stands their memorial, where into the fane They entered of Apollo in Pergamus The hallowed. Therebefore the sons of Troy Gathered, and reared a cenotaph for those Who miserably had perished. Over it Their father from his blind eyes rained the tears: Over the empty tomb their mother shrieked, Boding the while yet worse things, wailing o'er The ruin wrought by folly of her lord, Dreading the anger of the Blessed Ones. As when around her void nest in a brake In sorest anguish moans the nightingale Whose 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 pangs Were 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 hope To escape the weary stress of woeful war. Howbeit the victims burned not, and the flames Died out, as though 'neath heavy-hissing rain; And writhed the smoke-wreaths blood-red, and the thighs Quivering from crumbling altars fell to earth. Drink-offerings turned to blood, Gods' statues wept, And temple-walls dripped gore: along them rolled Echoes of groaning out of depths unseen; And all the long walls shuddered: from the towers Came quick sharp sounds like cries of men in pain; And, weirdly shrieking, of themselves slid back The gate-bolts. Screaming "Desolation!" wailed The birds of night. Above that God-built burg A mist palled every star; and yet no cloud Was in the flashing heavens. By Phoebus' fane Withered the bays that erst were lush and green. Wolves and foul-feeding jackals came and howled Within the gates. Ay, other signs untold Appeared, portending woe to Dardanus' sons And Troy: yet no fear touched the Trojans' hearts Who saw all through the town those portents dire: Fate crazed them all, that midst their revelling Slain 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 Troy Conspiring to one end; loud rang her cry, As roars a lioness that mid the brakes A hunter has stabbed or shot, whereat her heart Maddens, and down the long hills rolls her roar, And her might waxes tenfold; so with heart Aflame with prophecy came she forth her bower. Over her snowy shoulders tossed her hair Streaming far down, and wildly blazed her eyes. Her neck writhed, like a sapling in the wind Shaken, as moaned and shrieked that noble maid: "O wretches! into the Land of Darkness now We are passing; for all round us full of fire And blood and dismal moan the city is. Everywhere portents of calamity Gods show: destruction yawns before your feet. Fools! ye know not your doom: still ye rejoice With one consent in madness, who to Troy Have brought the Argive Horse where ruin lurks! Oh, ye believe not me, though ne'er so loud I cry! The Erinyes and the ruthless Fates, For Helen's spousals madly wroth, through Troy Dart on wild wings. And ye, ye are banqueting there In 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 cry Words empty as wind? No maiden modesty With purity veils thee: thou art compassed round With ruinous madness; therefore all men scorn Thee, babbler! Hence, thine evil bodings speak To the Argives and thyself! For thee doth wait Anguish and shame yet bitterer than befell Presumptuous Laocoon. Shame it were In folly to destroy the Immortals' gift."

So scoffed a Trojan: others in like sort Cried shame on her, and said she spake but lies, Saying that ruin and Fate's heavy stroke Were hard at hand. They knew not their own doom, And mocked, and thrust her back from that huge Horse For fain she was to smite its beams apart, Or burn with ravening fire. She snatched a brand Of blazing pine-wood from the hearth and ran In fury: in the other hand she bare A two-edged halberd: on that Horse of Doom She rushed, to cause the Trojans to behold With their own eyes the ambush hidden there. But straightway from her hands they plucked and flung Afar the fire and steel, and careless turned To the feast; for darkened o'er them their last night. Within the horse the Argives joyed to hear The uproar of Troy's feasters setting at naught Cassandra, but they marvelled that she knew So well the Achaeans' purpose and device.

As mid the hills a furious pantheress, Which from the steading hounds and shepherd-folk Drive with fierce rush, with savage heart turns back Even in departing, galled albeit by darts: So from the great Horse fled she, anguish-racked For Troy, for all the ruin she foreknew.



BOOK XIII

How Troy in the night was taken and sacked with fire and slaughter.

So feasted they through Troy, and in their midst Loud pealed the flutes and pipes: on every hand Were song and dance, laughter and cries confused Of 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 again Some mouth would babble the drunkard's broken words. The household gear, the very roof and walls Seemed as they rocked: all things they looked on seemed Whirled in wild dance. About their eyes a veil Of 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 host Hither! Fools, they have wrought not their intent, But with hopes unaccomplished from our town Like 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 everywhere Through Troy on folk fulfilled of wine and meat, Then Sinon lifted high a blazing torch To show the Argive men the splendour of fire. But fearfully the while his heart beat, lest The men of Troy might see it, and the plot Be suddenly revealed. But on their beds Sleeping 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 eyes Sleep hovered, so athirst were they for fight. They heard, and to Odysseus all inclined Their ears: he bade them urgently go forth Softly and fearlessly; and they obeyed That battle-summons, pressing in hot haste To leap to earth: but in his subtlety He stayed them from all thrusting eagerly forth. But first himself with swift unfaltering hands, Helped of Epeius, here and there unbarred The ribs of the Horse of beams: above the planks A little he raised his head, and gazed around On all sides, if he haply might descry One Trojan waking yet. As when a wolf, With hunger stung to the heart, comes from the hills, And ravenous for flesh draws nigh the flock Penned in the wide fold, slinking past the men And 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 him Followed the war-fain lords of Hellas' League, Orderly stepping down the ladders, which Epeius framed for paths of mighty men, For entering and for passing forth the Horse, Who down them now on this side, that side, streamed As fearless wasps startled by stroke of axe In angry mood pour all together forth From the tree-bole, at sound of woodman's blow; So battle-kindled forth the Horse they poured Into the midst of that strong city of Troy With hearts that leapt expectant. [With swift hands Snatched they the brands from dying hearths, and fired Temple and palace. Onward then to the gates Sped 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 ships Over the great flood: Thetis made their paths Straight, and behind them sent a driving wind Speeding them, and the hearts Achaean glowed. Swiftly to Hellespont's shore they came, and there Beached they the keels again, and deftly dealt With whatso tackling appertains to ships. Then leapt they aland, and hasted on to Troy Silent as sheep that hurry to the fold From woodland pasture on an autumn eve; So without sound of voices marched they on Unto the Trojans' fortress, eager all To help those mighty chiefs with foes begirt. Now these—as famished wolves fierce-glaring round Fall on a fold mid the long forest-hills, While sleeps the toil-worn watchman, and they rend The sheep on every hand within the wall In 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 them Those 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 rage Of fight, with reckless battle-lust they poured; And all that fortress found they full of war And slaughter, palaces, temples, horribly Blazing 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 death All up and down the city in their blood; Others on them were falling, gasping forth Their life's strength; others, clutching in their hands Their 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 unutterable Crawled 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 some Whose waists the lance had pierced, impaling them Where sharpest stings the anguish-laden steel. And all about the city dolorous howls Of dogs uprose, and miserable moans Of strong men stricken to death; and every home With awful cries was echoing. Rang the shrieks Of women, like to screams of cranes, which see An eagle stooping on them from the sky, Which have no courage to resist, but scream Long terror-shrieks in dread of Zeus's bird; So here, so there the Trojan women wailed, Some starting from their sleep, some to the ground Leaping: they thought not in that agony Of robe and zone; in naught but tunics clad Distraught they wandered: others found nor veil Nor cloak to cast about them, but, as came Onward their foes, they stood with beating hearts Trembling, as lettered by despair, essaying, All-hapless, with their hands alone to hide Their nakedness. And some in frenzy of woe: Their tresses tore, and beat their breasts, and screamed. Others against that stormy torrent of foes Recklessly rushed, insensible of fear, Through mad desire to aid the perishing, Husbands or children; for despair had given High courage. Shrieks had startled from their sleep Soft little babes whose hearts had never known Trouble—and there one with another lay Gasping their lives out! Some there were whose dreams Changed to a sudden vision of doom. All round The fell Fates gloated horribly o'er the slain. And even as swine be slaughtered in the court Of a rich king who makes his folk a feast, So without number were they slain. The wine Left in the mixing-bowls was blent with blood Gruesomely. No man bare a sword unstained With 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-heat Darts down, and all the flock beneath the shade Are 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 then Lap the dark blood, and linger still to slay All in mere lust of slaughter, and provide An evil banquet for that shepherd-lord; So through the city of Priam Danaans slew One after other in that last fight of all. No Trojan there was woundless, all men's limbs With 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 brands Snatched from the hearth; some died transfixed with spits Yet left within the hot flesh of the swine Whereon the red breath of the Fire-god beat; Others struck down by bills and axes keen Gasped in their blood: from some men's hands were shorn The fingers, who, in wild hope to escape The imminent death, had clutched the blades of swords. And here in that dark tumult one had hurled A stone, and crushed the crown of a friend's head. Like wild beasts trapped and stabbed within a fold On a lone steading, frenziedly they fought, Mad with despair-enkindled rage, beneath That night of horror. Hot with battle-lust Here, there, the fighters rushed and hurried through The palace of Priam. Many an Argive fell Spear-slain; for whatso Trojan in his halls Might 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 torch To know in that dim battle friends from foes.

Then Tydeus' son amid the war-storm met Spearman Coroebus, lordly Mygdon's son, And 'neath the left ribs pierced him with the lance Where 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 child Cassandra, yea, his loveliest, for whose sake To Priam's burg but yesterday he came, And vaunted he would thrust the Argives back From Ilium. Never did the Gods fulfil His hope: the Fates hurled doom upon his head. With him the slayer laid Eurydamas low, Antenor's gallant son-in-law, who most For prudence was pre-eminent in Troy. Then met he Ilioneus the elder of days, And flashed his terrible sword forth. All the limbs Of that grey sire were palsied with his fear: He put forth trembling hands, with one he caught The swift avenging sword, with one he clasped The hero's knees. Despite his fury of war, A moment paused his wrath, or haply a God Held back the sword a space, that that old man Might speak to his fierce foe one word of prayer. Piteously cried he, terror-overwhelmed: "I kneel before thee, whosoe'er thou be Of mighty Argives. Oh compassionate My suppliant hands! Abate thy wrath! To slay The young and valiant is a glorious thing; But if thou smite an old man, small renown Waits on thy prowess. Therefore turn from me Thine hands against young men, if thou dost hope Ever 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 I Spare any foe, but hurl to Hades all. The brave man makes an end of every foe."

Then through his throat that terrible warrior drave The deadly blade, and thrust it straight to where The paths of man's life lead by swiftest way Blood-paved to doom: death palsied his poor strength By Diomedes' hands. Thence rushed he on Slaying the Trojans, storming in his might All through their fortress: pierced by his long spear Eurycoon fell, Perimnestor's son renowned. Amphimedon Aias slew: Agamemnon smote Damastor's son: Idomeneus struck down Mimas: by Meges Deiopites died.

Achilles' son with his resistless lance Smote godlike Pammon; then his javelin pierced Polites in mid-rush: Antiphonus Dead upon these he laid, all Priam's sons. Agenor faced him in the fight, and fell: Hero on hero slew he; everywhere Stalked 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 longed Himself 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 forget Anguish and horror of war. Oh that thy sire Had slain me, ere mine eyes beheld aflame Illium, had slain me when I brought to him Ransom for Hector, whom thy father slew. He spared me—so the Fates had spun my thread Of destiny. But thou, glut with my blood Thy 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 head Lightly as when a reaper lops an ear In a parched cornfield at the harvest-tide. With lips yet murmuring low it rolled afar From where with quivering limbs the body lay Amidst dark-purple blood and slaughtered men. So lay he, chiefest once of all the world In lineage, wealth, in many and goodly sons. Ah me, not long abides the honour of man, But shame from unseen ambush leaps on him So clutched him Doom, so he forgat his woes.

Yea, also did those Danaan car-lords hurl From a high tower the babe Astyanax, Dashing him out of life. They tore the child Out of his mother's arms, in wrathful hate Of Hector, who in life had dealt to them Such 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 wolves Chase from the mother's side a suckling calf, And with malignant cunning drive it o'er An echoing cliffs edge, while runs to and fro Its 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 foe To bondage haled with other captive thralls That shrieking daughter of King Eetion. Then, as on those three fearful deaths she thought Of husband, child, and father, Andromaehe Longed sore to die. Yea, for the royally-born Better it is to die in war, than do The 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 father In 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 hopes In him fell merciless Fate hath cheated me! Oh therefore thrust this broken-hearted one Now out of life! Hale me not overseas Mingled with spear-thralls; for my soul henceforth Hath no more pleasure in life, since God hath slain My nearest and my dearest! For me waits Trouble and anguish and lone homelessness!"

So cried she, longing for the grave; for vile Is life to them whose glory is swallowed up Of 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 him The Argives rendered hospitality's debt, For that in time past had his roof received And sheltered godlike Menelaus, when He with Odysseus came to claim his own. Therefore the mighty sons of Achaea showed Grace to him, as to a friend, and spared his life And substance, fearing Themis who seeth all.

Then also princely Anchises' noble son— Hard had he fought through Priam's burg that night With spear and valour, and many had he slain— When now he saw the city set aflame By hands of foes, saw her folk perishing In multitudes, her treasures spoiled, her wives And children dragged to thraldom from their homes, No more he hoped to see the stately walls Of his birth-city, but bethought him now How from that mighty ruin to escape. And as the helmsman of a ship, who toils On the deep sea, and matches all his craft Against the winds and waves from every side Rushing against him in the stormy time, Forspent at last, both hand and heart, when now The ship is foundering in the surge, forsakes The helm, to launch forth in a little boat, And heeds no longer ship and lading; so Anchises' gallant son forsook the town And 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 set On 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 deaths His father led him through the roar of fight, And clinging hung on him the tender child, Tears down his soft cheeks streaming. But the man O'er many a body sprang with hurrying feet, And in the darkness in his own despite Trampled 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 left Was cloven asunder. Spears and javelins hurled Against him by the Achaeans harmless fell. Also, to stay them, Calchas cried aloud: "Forbear against Aeneas' noble head To hurl the bitter dart, the deadly spear! Fated he is by the high Gods' decree To pass from Xanthus, and by Tiber's flood To found a city holy and glorious Through all time, and to rule o'er tribes of men Far-sundered. Of his seed shall lords of earth Rule 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 hands Because he hath preferred his father and son To gold, to all things that might profit a man Who fleeth exiled to an alien land. This one night hath revealed to us a man Faithful to death to his father and his child."

Then hearkened they, and as a God did all Look on him. Forth the city hasted he Whither his feet should bear him, while the foe Made havoc still of goodly-builded Troy.

Then also Menelaus in Helen's bower Found, heavy with wine, ill-starred Deiphobus, And slew him with the sword: but she had fled And hidden her in the palace. O'er the blood Of that slain man exulted he, and cried: "Dog! I, even I have dealt thee unwelcome death This day! No dawn divine shall meet thee again Alive in Troy—ay, though thou vaunt thyself Spouse 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 fight Ere this, and plucked his heart out! So my grief Had been a lighter load. But he hath paid Already justice' debt, hath passed beneath Death's cold dark shadow. Ha, small joy to thee My wife was doomed to bring! Ay, wicked men Never elude pure Themis: night and day Her eyes are on them, and the wide world through Above 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 full Of thoughts of vengeance, which were now fulfilled By the dread Goddess Justice, for that theirs Was that first outrage touching Helen, theirs That profanation of the oaths, and theirs That trampling on the blood of sacrifice When their presumptuous souls forgat the Gods. Therefore the Vengeance-friends brought woes on them Thereafter, and some died in fighting field, Some now in Troy by board and bridal bower.

Menelaus mid the inner chambers found At last his wife, there cowering from the wrath Of her bold-hearted lord. He glared on her, Hungering to slay her in his jealous rage. But winsome Aphrodite curbed him, struck Out of his hand the sword, his onrush reined, Jealousy's dark cloud swept she away, and stirred Love's deep sweet well-springs in his heart and eyes. Swept o'er him strange amazement: powerless all Was he to lift the sword against her neck, Seeing her splendour of beauty. Like a stock Of dead wood in a mountain forest, which No swiftly-rushing blasts of north-winds shake, Nor fury of south-winds ever, so he stood, So dazed abode long time. All his great strength Was broken, as he looked upon his wife. And suddenly had he forgotten all Yea, all her sins against her spousal-troth; For Aphrodite made all fade away, She who subdueth all immortal hearts And mortal. Yet even so he lifted up From earth his sword, and made as he would rush Upon his wife but other was his intent, Even as he sprang: he did but feign, to cheat Achaean eyes. Then did his brother stay His fury, and spake with pacifying words, Fearing lest all they had toiled for should be lost: "Forbear wrath, Menelaus, now: 'twere shame To slay thy wedded wife, for whose sake we Have suffered much affliction, while we sought Vengeance on Priam. Not, as thou dost deem, Was Helen's the sin, but his who set at naught The 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 Tritonis And Hera: their hearts triumphed, when they saw The burg of god-descended Priam destroyed. Yet not the wise heart Trito-born herself Was wholly tearless; for within her fane Outraged Cassandra was of Oileus son Lust-maddened. But grim vengeance upon him Ere long the Goddess wreaked, repaying insult With mortal sufferance. Yea, she would not look Upon the infamy, but clad herself With shame and wrath as with a cloak: she turned Her stern eyes to the temple-roof, and groaned The holy image, and the hallowed floor Quaked mightily. Yet did he not forbear His mad sin, for his soul was lust-distraught.

Here, there, on all sides crumbled flaming homes In ruin down: scorched dust with smoke was blent: Trembled the streets to the awful thunderous crash. Here burned Aeneas' palace, yonder flamed Antimachus' halls: one furnace was the height Of fair-built Pergamus; flames were roaring round Apollo's temple, round Athena's fane, And round the Hearth-lord's altar: flames licked up Fair 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 foes And fire were in the porch together seen: Some slew their wives and children, and flung themselves Dead on them, when despair had done its work Of horror. One, who deemed the foe afar, Caught up a vase, and, fain to quench the flame, Hasted for water. Leapt unmarked on him An Argive, and his spirit, heavy with wine, Was thrust forth from the body by the spear. Clashed the void vase above him, as he fell Backward within the house. As through his hall Another fled, the burning roof-beam crashed Down on his head, and swift death came with it. And many women, as in frenzied flight They rushed forth, suddenly remembered babes Left in their beds beneath those burning roofs: With wild feet sped they back—the house fell in Upon them, and they perished, mother and child. Horses and dogs in panic through the town Fled from the flames, trampling beneath their feet The dead, and dashing into living men To their sore hurt. Shrieks rang through all the town. In through his blazing porchway rushed a man To rescue wife and child. Through smoke and flame Blindly he groped, and perished while he cried Their 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 around Beheld 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 task After 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 fame She raises, and brings low the exalted ones. Oft out of good is evil brought, and good From evil, mid the travail and change of life."

So spake they, who from far beheld the glare Of Troy's great burning. Compassed were her folk With wailing misery: through her streets the foe Exulted, as when madding blasts turmoil The boundless sea, what time the Altar ascends To heaven's star-pavement, turned to the misty south Overagainst 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 sons Ravaged steep Ilium while she burned in flame. As when a mountain clothed with shaggy woods Burns 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 that Rush through the wood, tormented by the flame; So were the Trojans perishing: there was none To save, of all the Gods. Round these were staked The nets of Fate, which no man can escape.

Then were Demophoon and Acamas By mighty Theseus' mother Aethra met. Yearning to see them was she guided on To meet them by some Blessed One, the while 'Wildered from war and fire she fled. They saw In that red glare a woman royal-tall, Imperial-moulded, and they weened that this Was Priam's queen, and with swift eagerness Laid hands on her, to lead her captive thence To 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 came My princely blood renowned. In Troezen's halls Pittheus 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 came Hither with Atreus' sons, O bring ye me Unto their yearning eyes. I trow they be Young men like you. My soul shall be refreshed If living I behold those chieftains twain."

Hearkening to her they called their sire to mind, His deeds for Helen's sake, and how the sons Of Zeus the Thunderer in the old time smote Aphidnae, when, because these were but babes, Their nurses hid them far from peril of fight; And Aethra they remembered—all she endured Through wars, as mother-in-law at first, and thrall Thereafter 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 hands Bear to the ships: with joy to Hellas' soil Thee will we bring, where once thou wast a queen."

Then his great father's mother clasped him round With clinging arms: she kissed his shoulders broad, His head, his breast, his bearded lips she kissed, And Acamas kissed withal, the while she shed Glad tears on these who could not choose but weep. As when one tarries long mid alien men, And folk report him dead, but suddenly He cometh home: his children see his face, And break into glad weeping; yea, and he, His arms around them, and their little heads Upon his shoulders, sobs: echoes the home With 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 gape To swallow her, ere she defiled her hand With thralls' work; and a God gave ear, and rent Deep earth beneath her: so by Heaven's decree Did earth's abysmal chasm receive the maid In Troy's last hour. Electra's self withal, The Star-queen lovely-robed, shrouded her form In mist and cloud, and left the Pleiad-band, Her sisters, as the olden legend tells. Still riseth up in sight of toil-worn men Their bright troop in the skies; but she alone Hides viewless ever, since the hallowed town Of 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 things Had 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.



BOOK XIV.

How the conquerors sailed from Troy unto judgment of tempest and shipwreck.

Then rose from Ocean Dawn the golden-throned Up 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'er Grows on the mountains, mingled with the wreck Of shattered cliff and crag; so the long lines Of Danaans who had wasted Troy with fire Seemed, streaming with her plunder to the ships. Troy's daughters therewithal in scattered bands They haled down seaward—virgins yet unwed, And new-made brides, and matrons silver-haired, And mothers from whose bosoms foes had torn Babes for the last time closing lips on breasts.

Amidst of these Menelaus led his wife Forth of the burning city, having wrought A mighty triumph—joy and shame were his. Cassandra heavenly-fair was haled the prize Of Agamemnon: to Achilles' son Andromache had fallen: Hecuba Odysseus dragged unto his ship. The tears Poured from her eyes as water from a spring; Trembled her limbs, fear-frenzied was her heart; Rent were her hoary tresses and besprent With ashes of the hearth, cast by her hands When she saw Priam slain and Troy aflame. And aye she deeply groaned for thraldom's day That trapped her vainly loth. Each hero led A 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 drive Their younglings from the hill-pens to the plain As winter closeth in, and evermore Each 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: shame Sat on her dark-blue eyes, and cast its flush Over her lovely cheeks. Her heart beat hard With sore misgiving, lest, as to the ships She 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 clasped In Ares' arms, shaming in sight of all The marriage-bed, trapped in the myriad-meshed Toils of Hephaestus: tangled there she lay In agony of shame, while thronged around The Blessed, and there stood Hephaestus' self: For fearful it is for wives to be beheld By husbands' eyes doing the deed of shame. Lovely as she in form and roseate blush Passed Helen mid the Trojan captives on To the Argive ships. But the folk all around Marvelled to see the glory of loveliness Of that all-flawless woman. No man dared Or secretly or openly to cast Reproach on her. As on a Goddess all Gazed on her with adoring wistful eyes. As when to wanderers on a stormy sea, After long time and passion of prayer, the sight Of fatherland is given; from deadly deeps Escaped, they stretch hands to her joyful-souled; So joyed the Danaans all, no man of them Remembered any more war's travail and pain. Such thoughts Cytherea stirred in them, for grace To 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 ears With merciless scourge, and levelled with the ground Are stalks, and on the earth is all the grain Woefully wasted, and the harvest's lord Is stricken with deadly grief; so Xanthus' soul Was utterly whelmed in grief for Ilium made A desolation; grief undying was his, Immortal though he was. Mourned Simois And long-ridged Ida: all who on Ida dwelt Wailed from afar the ruin of Priam's town.

But with loud laughter of glee the Argives sought Their galleys, chanting the triumphant might Of victory, chanting now the Blessed Gods, Now their own valour, and Epeius' work Ever renowned. Their song soared up to heaven, Like multitudinous cries of daws, when breaks A day of sunny calm and windless air After a ruining storm: from their glad hearts So rose the joyful clamour, till the Gods Heard and rejoiced in heaven, all who had helped With 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 override Fate; for not Cronos' Son can stay the hand Of Destiny, whose might transcendeth all The Immortals, and Zeus sanctioneth all her deeds.

The Argives on the flaming altar-wood Laid many thighs of oxen, and made haste To spill sweet wine on their burnt offerings, Thanking the Gods for that great work achieved. And loudly at the feast they sang the praise Of all the mailed men whom the Horse of Tree Had ambushed. Far-famed Sinon they extolled For that dire torment he endured of foes; Yea, song and honour-guerdons without end All rendered him: and that resolved soul Glad-hearted joyed for the Argives victory, And for his own misfeaturing sorrowed not. For to the wise and prudent man renown Is 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 won Glory, 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 peace Re-won, and with glad hearts untouched by care They heard; for no more fear of war had they, But of sweet toil of law-abiding days And blissful, fleeting hours henceforth they dreamed. All the War's Story in their eager ears He sang—how leagued peoples gathering met At hallowed Aulis—how the invincible strength Of Peleus' son smote fenced cities twelve In sea-raids, how he marched o'er leagues on leagues Of land, and spoiled eleven—all he wrought In fight with Telephus and Eetion— How he slew giant Cycnus—all the toil Of war that through Achilles' wrath befell The Achaeans—how he dragged dead Hector round His own Troy's wall, and how he slew in fight Penthesileia and Tithonus' son:— How Aias laid low Glaucus, lord of spears, Then sang he how the child of Aeacus' son Struck down Eurypylus, and how the shafts Of Philoctetes dealt to Paris death. Then the song named all heroes who passed in To ambush in the Horse of Guile, and hymned The 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 stars Hung, ceased the Danaans from the feast and wine, And turned to sleep's forgetfulness of care, For that with yesterday's war-travail all Were wearied; wherefore they, who fain all night Had revelled, needs must cease: how loth soe'er, Sleep drew them thence; here, there, soft slumbered they.

But in his tent Menelaus lovingly With bright-haired Helen spake; for on their eyes Sleep had not fallen yet. The Cyprian Queen Brooded above their souls, that olden love Might 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 Troy Came upon me, and snatched away, when thou Wast far thence. Oftentimes did I essay By the death-noose to perish wretchedly, Or by the bitter sword; but still they stayed Mine hand, and still spake comfortable words To 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 up Hid in thine heart. Let all be locked within The 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 eyes With tears were brimming as they made sweet moan; And side by side they laid them, and their hearts Thrilled with remembrance of old spousal joy. And as a vine and ivy entwine their stems Each around other, that no might of wind Avails to sever them, so clung these twain Twined in the passionate embrace of love.

When came on these too sorrow-drowning sleep, Even then above his son's head rose and stood Godlike Achilles' mighty shade, in form As when he lived, the Trojans' bane, the joy Of Greeks, and kissed his neck and flashing eyes Lovingly, and spake comfortable words: "All hail, my son! Vex not thine heart with grief For thy dead sire; for with the Blessed Gods Now at the feast I sit. Refrain thy soul From sorrow, and plant my strength within thy mind. Be foremost of the Argives ever; yield To none in valour, but in council bow Before thine elders: so shall all acclaim Thy 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 stem Is hard to climb, and high in heaven spread Her branches: only they whom strength and toil Attend, strain up to pluck her blissful fruit, Climbing the Tree of Honour glow-crowned. Thou therefore follow fame, and let thy soul Be 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 stand The 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' son Agamemnon chiefly—if my battle-toil Round Priam's walls, and those sea-raids I led Or ever I set foot on Trojan land, Be in their hearts remembered, to my tomb Be Priam's daughter Polyxeina led— Whom as my portion of the spoil I claim— And sacrificed thereon: else shall my wrath Against them more than for Briseis burn. The waves of the great deep will I turmoil To bar their way, upstirring storm on storm, That through their own mad folly pining away Here they may linger long, until to me They pour drink-offerings, yearning sore for home. But, when they have slain the maiden, I grudge not That whoso will may bury her far from me."

Then as a wind-breath swift he fleeted thence, And came to the Elysian Plain, whereto A path to heaven reacheth, for the feet Ascending and descending of the Blest. Then the son started up from sleep, and called His 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 sons Yearning for home. With laughter 'gan they hale Down to the sea the keels: but lo, their haste Was 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 me Spoken in darkness slumbering on my bed: He saith, he dwells with the Immortal Gods: He biddeth you and Atreus' son the king To 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 sail The sea, he threateneth to stir up the waves To bar your path upon the deep, and here Storm-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 sea Upheaved the waves, broad-backed and thronging fast More than before beneath the madding wind. Tossed the great deep, smit by Poseidon's hands For a grace to strong Achilles. All the winds Swooped on the waters. Prayed the Dardans all To Achilles, and a man to his fellow cried: "Great Zeus's seed Achilles verily was; Therefore is he a God, who in days past Dwelt among us; for lapse of dateless time Makes not the sons of Heaven to fade away."

Then to Achilles' tomb the host returned, And led the maid, as calf by herdmen dragged For sacrifice, from woodland pastures torn From its mother's side, and lowing long and loud It moans with anguished heart; so Priam's child Wailed in the hands of foes. Down streamed her tears As when beneath the heavy sacks of sand Olives clear-skinned, ne'er blotched by drops of storm, Pour out their oil, when the long levers creak As strong men strain the cords; so poured the tears Of travail-burdened Priam's daughter, haled To stern Achilles' tomb, tears blent with moans. Drenched were her bosom-folds, glistened the drops On flesh clear-white as costly ivory.

Then, to crown all her griefs, yet sharper pain Fell 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 stood Moaning, 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 wailed Piteously; 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 now Long howling: the weird outcry thrills the air; So wailed and shrieked for her child Hecuba: "Ah me! what sorrows first or last shall I Lament heart-anguished, who am full of woes? Those unimagined ills my sons, my king Have suffered? or my city, or daughters shamed? Or my despair, my day of slavery? Oh, the grim fates have caught me in a net Of manifold ills! O child, they have spun for thee Dread weird of unimagined misery! They have thrust thee away, when near was Hymen's hymn, From thine espousals, marked thee for destruction Dark, 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 hand Was laid upon the tomb, and thus he cried: "Hear, father, thy son's prayer, hear all the prayers Of Argives, and be no more wroth with us! Lo, unto thee now all thine heart's desire Will we fulfil. Be gracious to us thou, And to our praying grant sweet home-return."

Into the maid's throat then he plunged the blade Of death: the dear life straightway sobbed she forth, With the last piteous moan of parting breath. Face-downward to the earth she fell: all round Her flesh was crimsoned from her neck, as snow Stained on a mountain-side with scarlet blood Rushing, from javelin-smitten boar or bear. The maiden's corpse then gave they, to be borne Unto the city, to Antenor's home, For that, when Troy yet stood, he nurtured her In his fair halls, a bride for his own son Eurymachus. The old man buried her, King Priam's princess-child, nigh his own house, By Ganymedes' shrine, and overagainst The temple of Pallas the Unwearied One. Then were the waves stilled, and the blast was hushed To 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 kine For the Immortals. Gladsome sacrifice Steamed on all sides: in cups of silver and gold They drank sweet wine: their hearts leaped up with hope Of 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 hour Of home-return. Away! Achilles soul Hath ceased from ruinous wrath; Earth-shaker stills The stormy wave, and gentle breezes blow; No more the waves toss high. Haste, hale the ships Down 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 changed From 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 bore In 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 spoil Taken, or ever unto Troy they came, From conquered neighbour peoples; therewithal Whatso they took from Ilium, wherein most They joyed, for untold was the sum thereof. And followed with them many a captive maid With anguished heart: so went they aboard the ships. But Calchas would not with that eager host Launch forth; yea, he had fain withheld therefrom All the Achaeans, for his prophet-soul Foreboded dread destruction looming o'er The Argives by the Rocks Capherean. But naught they heeded him; malignant Fate Deluded men's souls: only Amphilochus The wise in prophet-lore, the gallant son Of 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 loose From shore: in haste they heaved the anchor-stones. Roared Hellespont beneath swift-flashing oars; Crashed the prows through the sea. About the bows Much armour of slain foes was lying heaped: Along the bulwarks victory-trophies hung Countless. With garlands wreathed they all the ships, Their heads, the spears, the shields wherewith they had fought Against their foes. The chiefs stood on the prows, And poured into the dark sea once and again Wine to the Gods, to grant them safe return. But with the winds their prayers mixed; far away Vainly they floated blent with cloud and air.

With anguished hearts the captive maids looked back On Ilium, and with sobs and moans they wailed, Striving to hide their grief from Argive eyes. Clasping their knees some sat; in misery some Veiled with their hands their faces; others nursed Young children in their arms: those innocents Not yet bewailed their day of bondage, nor Their country's ruin; all their thoughts were set On comfort of the breast, for the babe's heart Hath none affinity with sorrow. All Sat with unbraided hair and pitiful breasts Scored with their fingers. On their cheeks there lay Stains of dried tears, and streamed thereover now Fresh tears full fast, as still they gazed aback On the lost hapless home, wherefrom yet rose The 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 war Gathered to render now the burial-dues Unto their city's slain. Antenor led To 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 looked Back to the alien's land; it seemed to them Aye sliding farther from their ships. Full soon By Tenedos' beaches slipt they: now they ran By Chrysa, Sminthian Phoebus' holy place, And hallowed Cilla. Far away were glimpsed The windy heights of Lesbos. Rounded now Was Lecton's foreland, where is the last peak Of Ida. In the sails loud hummed the wind, Crashed round the prows the dark surge: the long waves Showed shadowy hollows, far the white wake gleamed.

Now had the Argives all to the hallowed soil Of Hellas won, by perils of the deep Unscathed, but for Athena Daughter of Zeus The Thunderer, and her indignation's wrath. When nigh Euboea's windy heights they drew, She rose, in anger unappeasable Against the Locrian king, devising doom Crushing and pitiless, and drew nigh to Zeus Lord of the Gods, and spake to him apart In wrath that in her breast would not be pent: "Zeus, Father, unendurable of Gods Is men's presumption! They reck not of thee, Of none of the Blessed reck they, forasmuch As vengeance followeth after sin no more; And ofttimes more afflicted are good men Than evil, and their misery hath no end. Therefore no man regardeth justice: shame Lives not with men! And I, I will not dwell Hereafter in Olympus, not be named Thy daughter, if I may not be avenged On the Achaeans' reckless sin! Behold, Within my very temple Oileus' son Hath wrought iniquity, hath pitied not Cassandra stretching unregarded hands Once and again to me; nor did he dread My might, nor reverenced in his wicked heart The Immortal, but a deed intolerable He did. Therefore let not thy spirit divine Begrudge mine heart's desire, that so all men May 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' might To win my favour wrought with tireless hands, To thy desire I give. O strong heart, hurl A ruining storm thyself on the Argive fleet."

Then down before the aweless Maid he cast Swift 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 blast Of 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 God Save 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 floor Rocked '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 winds O'er iron-bound Caphereus' cliffs to sweep Ceaselessly, and with ruin of madding blasts To upheave the sea. And Iris heard, and swift She 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 winds With rugged ribs of mountain overarched, Whereby the mansion stands of Aeolus Hippotas' son. Him found she therewithin With wife and twelve sons; and she told to him Athena's purpose toward the homeward-bound Achaeans. He denied her not, but passed Forth of his halls, and in resistless hands Upswung his trident, smiting the mountain-side Within whose chasm-cell the wild winds dwelt Tempestuously shrieking. Ever pealed Weird 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 storm To upheave the sea, and shroud Caphereus' heights. Swiftly upsprang they, ere their king's command Was fully spoken. Mightily moaned the sea As they rushed o'er it; waves like mountain-cliffs From all sides were uprolled. The Achaeans' hearts Were terror-palsied, as the uptowering surge Now swung the ships up high through palling mist, Now hurled them rolled as down a precipice To dark abysses. Up through yawning deeps Some power resistless belched the boiling sand From the sea's floor. Tossed in despair, fear-dazed, Men could not grasp the oar, nor reef the sail About the yard-arm, howsoever fain, Ere the winds rent it, could not with the sheets Trim the torn canvas, buffeted so were they By ruining blasts. The helmsman had no power To 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 swung The merciless sea, to work the heart's desire Of his brother's glorious child; and she on high Stormed with her lightnings, ruthless in her rage. Thundered from heaven Zeus, in purpose fixed To glorify his daughter. All the isles And mainlands round were lashed by leaping seas Nigh to Euboea, where the Power divine Scourged most with unrelenting stroke on stroke The Argives. Groan and shriek of perishing men Rang through the ships; started great beams and snapped With ominous sound, for ever ship on ship With shivering timbers crashed. With hopeless toil Men strained with oars to thrust back hulls that reeled Down on their own, but with the shattered planks Were hurled into the abyss, to perish there By pitiless doom; for beams of foundering ships From this, from that side battered out their lives, And crushed were all their bodies wretchedly. Some in the ships fell down, and like dead men Lay there; some, in the grip of destiny, Clinging to oars smooth-shaven, tried to swim; Some upon planks were tossing. Roared the surge From fathomless depths: it seemed as though sea, sky, And land were blended all confusedly.

Still from Olympus thundering Atrytone Wielded her Father's power unshamed, and still The welkin shrieked around. Her ruin of wrath Now upon Aias hurled she: on his ship Dashed she a thunderbolt, and shivered it Wide in a moment into fragments small, While earth and air yelled o'er the wreck, and whirled And plunged and fell the whole sea down thereon. They in the ship were all together flung Forth: all about them swept the giant waves, Round them leapt lightnings flaming through the dark. Choked with the strangling surf of hissing brine, Gasping out life, they drifted o'er the sea.

But even in death those captive maids rejoiced, As some ill-starred ones, clasping to their breasts Their babes, sank in the sea; some flung their arms Round Danaans' horror-stricken heads, and dragged These down with them, so rendering to their foes Requital for foul outrage down to them. And from on high the haughty Trito-born Looked down on all this, and her heart was glad.

But Aias floated now on a galley's plank, Now through the brine with strong hands oared his path, Like some old Titan in his tireless might. Cleft was the salt sea-surge by the sinewy hands Of that undaunted man: the Gods beheld And marvelled at his courage and his strength. But now the billows swung him up on high Through misty air, as though to a mountain's peak, Now whelmed him down, as they would bury him In ravening whirlpits: yet his stubborn hands Toiled on unwearied. Aye to right and left Flashed lightnings down, and quenched them in the sea; For not yet was the Child of Thunderer Zeus Purposed to smite him dead, despite her wrath, Ere he had drained the cup of travail and pain Down to the dregs; so in the deep long time Affliction wore him down, tormented sore On every side. Grim Fates stood round the man Unnumbered; yet despair still kindled strength. He cried: "Though all the Olympians banded come In wrath, and rouse against me all the sea, I will escape them!" But no whit did he Elude the Gods' wrath; for the Shaker of Earth In fierceness of his indignation marked Where his hands clung to the Gyraean Rock, And in stern anger with an earthquake shook Both sea and land. Around on all sides crashed Caphereus' cliffs: beneath the Sea-king's wrath The surf-tormented beaches shrieked and roared. The broad crag rifted reeled into the sea, The rock whereto his desperate hands had clung; Yet did he writhe up round its jutting spurs, While flayed his hands were, and from 'neath his nails The blood ran. Wrestling with him roared the waves, And the foam whitened all his hair and beard.

Yet had he 'scaped perchance his evil doom, Had not Poseidon, wroth with his hardihood, Cleaving the earth, hurled down the chasm the rock, As in the old time Pallas heaved on high Sicily, and on huge Enceladus Dashed down the isle, which burns with the burning yet Of that immortal giant, as he breathes Fire underground; so did the mountain-crag, Hurled from on high, bury the Locrian king, Pinning the strong man down, a wretch crushed flat. And so on him death's black destruction came Whom land and sea alike were leagued to slay.

Still over the great deep were swept the rest Of those Achaeans, crouching terror-dazed Down in the ships, save those that mid the waves Had fallen. Misery encompassed all; For some with heavily-plunging prows drave on, With keels upturned some drifted. Here were masts Snapped from the hull by rushing gusts, and there Were tempest-rifted wrecks of scattered beams; And some had sunk, whelmed in the mighty deep, Swamped by the torrent downpour from the clouds: For these endured not madness of wind-tossed sea Leagued with heaven's waterspout; for streamed the sky Ceaselessly like a river, while the deep Raved round them. And one cried: "Such floods on men Fell only when Deucalion's deluge came, When earth was drowned, and all was fathomless sea!"

So cried a Danaan, seeing soul-appalled That wild storm. Thousands perished; corpses thronged The great sea-highways: all the beaches were Too strait for them: the surf belched multitudes Forth on the land. The heavy-booming sea With weltering beams of ships was wholly paved, And here and there the grey waves gleamed between.

So found they each his several evil fate, Some whelmed beneath broad-rushing billows, some Wretchedly perishing with their shattered ships By Nauplius' devising on the rocks. Wroth for that son whom they had done to death, He; when the storm rose and the Argives died, Rejoiced amid his sorrow, seeing a God Gave to his hands revenge, which now he wreaked Upon the host he hated, as o'er the deep They tossed sore-harassed. To his sea-god sire He prayed that all might perish, ships and men Whelmed in the deep. Poseidon heard his prayer, And on the dark surge swept them nigh his land. He, like a harbour-warder, lifted high A blazing torch, and so by guile he trapped The Achaean men, who deemed that they had won A sheltering haven: but sharp reefs and crags Gave awful welcome unto ships and men, Who, dashed to pieces on the cruel rocks In the black night, crowned ills with direr ills. Some few escaped, by a God or Power unseen Plucked from death's hand. Athena now rejoiced Her heart within, and now was racked with fears For prudent-souled Odysseus; for his weird Was through Poseidon's wrath to suffer woes Full many.

But Earth-shaker's jealousy now Burned against those long walls and towers uppiled By the strong Argives for a fence against The Trojans' battle-onset. Swiftly then He swelled to overbrimming all the sea That rolls from Euxine down to Hellespont, And hurled it on the shore of Troy: and Zeus, For a grace unto the glorious Shaker of Earth, Poured rain from heaven: withal Far-darter bare In that great work his part; from Ida's heights Into one channel led he all her streams, And flooded the Achaeans' work. The sea Dashed o'er it, and the roaring torrents still Rushed on it, swollen by the rains of Zeus; And the dark surge of the wide-moaning sea Still hurled them back from mingling with the deep, Till all the Danaan walls were blotted out Beneath their desolating flood. Then earth Was by Poseidon chasm-cleft: up rushed Deluge of water, slime and sand, while quaked Sigeum with the mighty shock, and roared The beach and the foundations of the land Dardanian. So vanished, whelmed from sight, That mighty rampart. Earth asunder yawned, And all sank down, and only sand was seen, When back the sea rolled, o'er the beach outspread Far down the heavy-booming shore. All this The Immortals' anger wrought. But in their ships The Argives storm-dispersed went sailing on. So came they home, as heaven guided each, Even all that 'scaped the fell sea-tempest blasts.

THE END