Aeneid

and his small grandson in his arms he bore,

while toward the gates with wild, swift steps he flew.

“How fares the kingdom, Panthus? What strong place

is still our own?” But scarcely could I ask

when thus, with many a groan, he made reply:—

“Dardania's death and doom are come to-day,

implacable. There is no Ilium now;

our Trojan name is gone, the Teucrian throne

Quite fallen. For the wrathful power of Jove

has given to Argos all our boast and pride.

The Greek is Iord of all yon blazing towers.

yon horse uplifted on our city's heart

disgorges men-at-arms. False Sinon now,

with scorn exultant, heaps up flame on flame.

Others throw wide the gates. The whole vast horde

that out of proud Mycenae hither sailed

is at us. With confronting spears they throng

each narrow passage. Every steel-bright blade

is flashing naked, making haste for blood.

Our sentries helpless meet the invading shock

and give back blind and unavailing war.”

By Panthus' word and by some god impelled,

I flew to battle, where the flames leaped high,

where grim Bellona called, and all the air

resounded high as heaven with shouts of war.

Rhipeus and Epytus of doughty arm

were at my side, Dymas and Hypanis,

seen by a pale moon, join our little band;

and young Coroebus, Mygdon's princely son,

who was in Troy that hour because he loved

Cassandra madly, and had made a league

as Priam's kinsman with our Phrygian arms:

ill-starred, to heed not what the virgin raved!

When these I saw close-gathered for the fight,

I thus addressed them: “Warriors, vainly brave,

if ye indeed desire to follow one

who dares the uttermost brave men may do,

our evil plight ye see: the gods are fled

from every altar and protecting fire,

which were the kingdom's stay. Ye offer aid

unto your country's ashes. Let us fight

unto the death! To arms, my men, to arms!

The single hope and stay of desperate men

is their despair.” Thus did I rouse their souls.

Then like the ravening wolves, some night of cloud,

when cruel hunger in an empty maw

drives them forth furious, and their whelps behind

wait famine-throated; so through foemen's steel

we flew to surest death, and kept our way

straight through the midmost town . The wings of night

brooded above us in vast vault of shade.

But who the bloodshed of that night can tell?

What tongue its deaths shall number, or what eyes

find meed of tears to equal all its woe?

The ancient City fell, whose throne had stood

age after age. Along her streets were strewn

the unresisting dead; at household shrines

and by the temples of the gods they lay.

Yet not alone was Teucrian blood required:

oft out of vanquished hearts fresh valor flamed,

and the Greek victor fell. Anguish and woe

were everywhere; pale terrors ranged abroad,

and multitudinous death met every eye.

Androgeos, followed by a thronging band

of Greeks, first met us on our desperate way;

but heedless, and confounding friend with foe,

thus, all unchallenged, hailed us as his own :

“Haste, heroes! Are ye laggards at this hour?

Others bear off the captives and the spoil

of burning Troy. Just from the galleys ye?”

He spoke; but straightway, when no safe reply

returned, he knew himself entrapped, and fallen

into a foeman's snare; struck dumb was he

and stopped both word and motion; as one steps,

when blindly treading a thick path of thorns,

upon a snake, and sick with fear would flee

that lifted wrath and swollen gorge of green:

so trembling did Androgeos backward fall.

At them we flew and closed them round with war;

and since they could not know the ground, and fear

had whelmed them quite, we swiftly laid them low.

Thus Fortune on our first achievement smiled;

and, flushed with victory, Cormbus cried:

“Come, friends, and follow Fortune's finger, where

she beckons us what path deliverance lies.

Change we our shields, and these Greek emblems wear.

'Twixt guile and valor who will nicely weigh

When foes are met? These dead shall find us arms.”

With this, he dons Androgeos' crested helm

and beauteous, blazoned shield; and to his side

girds on a Grecian blade. Young Rhipeus next,

with Dymas and the other soldiery,

repeat the deed, exulting, and array

their valor in fresh trophies from the slain.

Now intermingled with our foes we moved,

and alien emblems wore; the long, black night

brought many a grapple, and a host of Greeks

down to the dark we hurled. Some fled away,

seeking their safe ships and the friendly shore.

Some cowards foul went clambering back again