Aeneid

Virgil

Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.

The skies rolled on; and o'er the ocean fell
the veil of night, till utmost earth and heaven
and all their Myrmidonian stratagems
were mantled darkly o'er. In silent sleep
the Trojan city lay; dull slumber chained
its weary life. But now the Greek array
of ordered ships moved on from Tenedos,
their only light the silent, favoring moon,
on to the well-known strand. The King displayed
torch from his own ship, and Sinon then,
whom wrathful Heaven defended in that hour,
let the imprisoned band of Greeks go free
from that huge womb of wood; the open horse
restored them to the light; and joyfully
emerging from the darkness, one by one,
princely Thessander, Sthenelus, and dire
Ulysses glided down the swinging cord.
Closely upon them Neoptolemus,
the son of Peleus, came, and Acamas,
King Menelaus, Thoas and Machaon,
and last, Epeus, who the fabric wrought.
Upon the town they fell, for deep in sleep
and drowsed with wine it lay; the sentinels
they slaughtered, and through gates now opened wide
let in their fellows, and arrayed for war
th' auxiliar legions of the dark design.

That hour it was when heaven's first gift of sleep
on weary hearts of men most sweetly steals.
O, then my slumbering senses seemed to see
Hector, with woeful face and streaming eyes;
I seemed to see him from the chariot trailing,
foul with dark dust and gore, his swollen feet
pierced with a cruel thong. Ah me! what change
from glorious Hector when he homeward bore
the spoils of fierce Achilles; or hurled far
that shower of torches on the ships of Greece!
Unkempt his beard, his tresses thick with blood,
and all those wounds in sight which he did take
defending Troy. Then, weeping as I spoke,
I seemed on that heroic shape to call
with mournful utterance: “O star of Troy!
O surest hope and stay of all her sons!
Why tarriest thou so Iong? What region sends
the long-expected Hector home once more?
These weary eyes that look on thee have seen
hosts of thy kindred die, and fateful change
upon thy people and thy city fall.
O, say what dire occasion has defiled
thy tranquil brows? What mean those bleeding wounds?”
Silent he stood, nor anywise would stay
my vain lament; but groaned, and answered thus:
“Haste, goddess-born, and out of yonder flames
achieve thy flight. Our foes have scaled the wall;
exalted Troy is falling. Fatherland
and Priam ask no more. If human arm
could profit Troy, my own had kept her free.
Her Lares and her people to thy hands
Troy here commends. Companions let them be
of all thy fortunes. Let them share thy quest
of that wide realm, which, after wandering far,
thou shalt achieve, at last, beyond the sea.”
He spoke: and from our holy hearth brought forth
the solemn fillet, the ancestral shrines,
and Vesta's ever-bright, inviolate fire.

Now shrieks and loud confusion swept the town;
and though my father's dwelling stood apart
embowered deep in trees, th' increasing din
drew nearer, and the battle-thunder swelled.
I woke on sudden, and up-starting scaled
the roof, the tower, then stood with listening ear:
't was like an harvest burning, when wild winds
uprouse the flames; 't was like a mountain stream
that bursts in flood and ruinously whelms
sweet fields and farms and all the ploughman's toil,
whirling whole groves along; while dumb with fear,
from some far cliff the shepherd hears the sound.
Now their Greek plot was plain, the stratagem
at last laid bare. Deiphobus' great house
sank vanquished in the fire. Ucalegon's
hard by was blazing, while the waters wide
around Sigeum gave an answering glow.
Shrill trumpets rang; Ioud shouting voices roared;
wildly I armed me (when the battle calls,
how dimly reason shines!); I burned to join
the rally of my peers, and to the heights
defensive gather. Frenzy and vast rage
seized on my soul. I only sought what way
with sword in hand some noble death to die.