With various talk the night poor Dido wore, And drank deep love, and nursed her inward flame, Of Priam much she asks, of Hector more, Now in what arms Aurora's offspring came, Of Diomede's horses and Achilles' fame. "Tell me," she says, "thy wanderings; stranger, come, Thy friends' mishaps and Danaan wiles proclaim; For seven long summers now have seen thee roam
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O'er every land and sea, far from thy native home."
Æneas' story.—The Greeks, baffled in battle, built a wooden horse, in which their leaders took ambush. Their fleet sailed to Tenedos. The Trojans, but for Capys and Laocoon, had dragged the horse forthwith as a trophy into Troy (1–72). Sinon, a Greek, brought before Priam, feigns righteous indignation against Greece. The Trojans sympathise and believe his story of wrongs done him by Ulysses (73–126). "When Greek plans of flight had often," says Sinon, "been foiled by storms, oracles foretold that only a human sacrifice could purchase their escape." Chosen for victim, Sinon had fled. He solemnly declares the horse to be an offering to Pallas. "Destroy it, and you are lost. Preserve it in your citadel, your revenge is assured" (127–222). Treachery triumphs. Laocoon's cruel fate is ascribed to his sacrilegious attack upon the horse, which is brought with rejoicing into Troy, despite a last warning, from Cassandra (223–288). While Troy sleeps, the fleet returns, and Sinon releases the Greeks from the horse (289–315). Hector's wraith warns Æneas in a dream to flee with the sacred vessels and images (316–351), and Panthus brings news of Sinon's treachery. The city is in flames. Æneas heads a forlorn hope of rescue (352–441). He and his followers exchange armour with certain Greeks slain in the darkness. The ruse succeeds until they are taken for enemies by their friends. The Greeks rally. The Trojans scatter. At Priam's palace a last stand is made, but Pyrrhus forces the great gates, and the defenders are massacred (442–603). Priam's fate.—The sight of his headless corpse draws Æneas' thoughts to his own father's danger. Hastening homewards he espies Helen, and is pausing to take vengeance and her life, when (604–711) Venus intervening opens his eyes to see the gods aiding the Greeks (712–756). Æneas regains his home. Anchises obstinately refuses to flee, until a halo is seen about the head of Ascanius (757–828), whereupon he accepts the omen and yields. The escape.—In a sudden panic Creusa is lost (829–900). Æneas, at peril of his life, is seeking her throughout the city, when her wraith appears and bids him away. "She is dead in Troytown: in Italy empire awaits him." She vanishes: day dawns: and Æneas, with Anchises and the surviving Trojans, flees to the hills (901–972).
I .
All hushed intent, when from his lofty seat Troy's sire began, "O queen, a tale too true, Too sad for words, thou biddest me repeat; How Ilion perished, and the Danaan crew Her power and all her wailful realm o'erthrew: The woes I saw, thrice piteous to behold, And largely shared. What Myrmidon, or who Of stern Ulysses' warriors can withhold
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His tears, to tell such things, as thou would'st have re-told?
II .
"And now already from the heaven's high steep The dewy night wheels down, and sinking slow, The stars are gently wooing us to sleep. But, if thy longing be so great to know The tale of Troy's last agony and woe, The toils we suffered, though my heart doth ache, And grief would fain the memory forego Of scenes so sad, yet, Lady, for thy sake
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I will begin,"—and thus the sire of Troy outspake;
III .
"Broken by war, long baffled by the force Of fate, as fortune and their hopes decline, The Danaan leaders build a monstrous horse, Huge as a hill, by Pallas' craft divine, And cleft fir-timbers in the ribs entwine. They feign it vowed for their return, so goes The tale, and deep within the sides of pine And caverns of the womb by stealth enclose
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Armed men, a chosen band, drawn as the lots dispose.
IV .
"In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle Renowned and rich, while Priam held command, Now a mere bay and roadstead fraught with guile. Thus far they sailed, and on the lonely strand Lay hid, while fondly to Mycenæ's land We thought the winds had borne them. Troy once more Shakes off her ten years' sorrow. Open stand The gates. With joy to the abandoned shore,
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The places bare of foes, the Dorian lines we pour.
V .
"Here camped the brave Dolopians, there was set The tent of fierce Achilles; yonder lay The fleet, and here the rival armies met And mingled. Some with wonder and dismay The maid Minerva's fatal gift survey. Then first Thymætes cries aloud, to go And through the gates the monstrous horse convey And lodge it in the citadel. E'en so
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His fraud or Troy's dark fates were working for our woe.
VI .
"But Capys and the rest, of sounder mind, Urge us to tumble in the rolling tide The doubtful gift, for treachery designed, Or burn with fire, or pierce the hollow side, And probe the caverns where the Danaans hide. Thus while they waver and, perplext with doubt, Urge diverse counsels, and in parts divide, Lo, from the citadel, foremost of a rout,
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Breathless Laocoon runs, and from afar cries out;
VII .
"'Ah! wretched townsmen! do ye think the foe Gone, or that guileless are their gifts? O blind With madness! Thus Ulysses do ye know? Or Grecians in these timbers lurk confined, Or 'tis some engine of assault, designed To breach the walls, and lay our houses bare, And storm the town. Some mischief lies behind.
