Sthenelus

Transcription

All were hushed, and fixed their gazes upon his lips; and thus, from the raised couch, Father Aeneas began: “Unspeakable— O Queen— is the grief you bid me renew: How the Greeks destroyed the wealth and woeful realm of Troy-- sights so insufferable that I myself saw, and wherein I played no small role. In telling such a tale, Who or What Dolopian Myrmidon or soldier of the grim Ulysses could refrain from tears? Even now dewy night speeds from the sky and the setting stars counsel sleep. But, if such is your desire to learn the causes of our agony, And, in a just a few words, to hear of the labor of Troy’s final catastrophe, although my mind still shudders to recall it, and recoils in pain, Let me begin: “Broken-by-war, and thwarted by the fates, the Greek chiefs, now that so many war-torn years were passing, a horse of mountainous bulk, by Athena’s divine art they build: and they encase its ribs with planks of fir. Pretending it’s an offer for a safe return; this rumor abounds. But within, the choicest of their stalwart men they stealthily enclose; Hiding deep-inside the immense cavernous belly, impregnating the wooden womb with armed soldiery. And there lies in-sight Tenedos, an island well-known in fame, rich in wealth once while Priam’s kingdom remained, but now merely a bay— an unsafe anchorage for ships. Thither they sail and conceal themselves on the barren shores. We thought they’d gone-- bound before the wind for Mycene.. And so all of Troy frees itself from its long-accustomed sorrow; The gates are opened, and it’s a joy to visit the Doric camps, To see the deserted stations, and the forsaken shores. Here the Dolopians encamped. Here cruel Achilles; here there lay the fleet; here they would meet us in battle. Some are astonished at maiden Minerva’s gift of death, And they marvel at the massive horse: and firstly Thymoetes urges it be drawn within our walls and lodged in the citadel; (Whether by grief or treason, Troy’s fate was already tending that way.) However, Capys, and those whose minds were wiser in counsel Bid us either hurl-headlong into the sea this guile of the Greeks, This distrusted gift, or else burn it with flames beneath; Or-else pierce and probe the hollow hiding place of the belly. And so, the wavering crowd is torn into opposing sides. And there before all the factions of the crowd already assembled, Laocoon --with burning voice-- proclaimed from the highest altar, And (he was heard) from far-off: “O wretched citizens-- What insanity compels you all to believe our enemies have fled by the winds?? Do you really think this gift is for the grieving of Greece? Is thus Ulysses known?? Either Achilles’ men are hidden here in this thing, enclosed by wood, Or it was built as a machine to be used against our walls, Or to spy on our homes, or to fall on the city from above! Or-else it hides some other trick; but believe it not a horse, Trojans! For whatever it is, I fear the Greeks: especially those bearing gifts! Thus having spoken, he hurtled his massive spear with extreme force At the creature’s side, and into the ribbed frame of the curved belly he impaled it: It stood trembling, having stuck-fast in the frame, whose hollow interior groaned and rang with empty reverberance. And then, if the Gods’ fates, if our minds had not been ill-guided, if he’d had incited us to marr the Greeks’ hiding place with steel, Troy yet would stand! and You, High Tower of Priam, would remain. But Behold meanwhile a young lad with hands tied behind his back, Whom a band of Trojan shepherds, shouting loudly, is dragging to The Dardanian king (himself unknowing of the changing of the winds,) The man, in order to contrive this: to lay-open Troy to the Greeks, had surrendered himself unarmed, with his faithful mind completely prepared for either course: to engage in deception, or else meet with certain death. The Trojan youths run— crowding around from all sides, In order to see him, and compete in mocking the captive. Just Hear Now of the Greeks’ treachery, and learn of all their crimes From only this one: Since, as he stood, looking troubled, unarmed, amongst the gazing crowd, and cast his eyes around the Phrygian ranks, “Alas!” he cried, “What lands? What Seas would be able to accept me now? Or what’s left of me at the end in my despair? I, who have no place left among the Greeks, when even the hostile Trojans themselves demand my punishment with blood?” At this lament, the mood suddenly changed and all thoughts of violence were momentarily checked. We urged him to tell of what blood he was sprung, just how he had suffered, and just what faith could be placed in him as a captive... “I’ll tell you everything, O King! All that has happened, I will confess completely with truth!” he said, “nor will I deny that I’m of Argive birth... And this first of all- If Fortune has already made me, Sinon, wretched- she’ll not also prove me false AND a liar. A bit about myself, I suppose... If, by some chance any mention of Palamedes’ name has reached your ears, of the son of Belus, and talk of his glorious fame; He whom, on false charges of treason, because he opposed the war, the Pelians, by atrocious perjury, sent innocent to his death, and whom now they mourn, taken from the light: Well, being his friend and bound by bloodlines to him, my father, poor in arms, sent me here to the war when I was young, and as long as Palamades was safe in power, and prospered in the Kings’ council, I too had some mention and respect. But after he, through the spite of seductive Ulysses (scarcely rumored I say!) had passed from this world above, I was ruined, and spent my life in obscurity and grief, inwardly angry at the unjust fate of my innocent friend. Maddened, I could not be silent, and I promised, if the fates allowed, if I might ever return to my native Argos as victor, to avenge him, and with my words I stirred bitter hatred. The first hint of evil came to me from this, because of it Ulysses was always frightening me with new accusations, spreading veiled rumors among the people, and guiltily seeking to defend himself. He would not rest until, with Calchas as his instrument… but why now unfold this unwelcome story? Why delay you? If you consider all Greeks the same, and that’s sufficient for you, take now your vengeance: Besides, that’s what the Ithacan wants, and the sons of Atreus would pay dearly for it!” Then, indeed, we were burning to know, and asked the reason. We, ignorant of such wickedness and Pelian trickery. And he, severely trembling with fictitious feelings, continued: “Often the Greeks had longed to leave Troy, to relinquish those desired walls and retreat from the wearisome war: Oh, if only they had! Often a fierce storm from the sea land-locked them, and the gales terrified them from leaving. Once, especially then, that horse, made of maple-beams, Stood there, with storm-clouds thundering throughout the entire sky. Anxiously, we sent Eurypylus to consult the oracle of Apollo, and he brought back these sad words from the inner sanctum: “With blood and a virgin sacrifice you calmed the winds, when You, Greeks, first came to these Trojan shores. Seek your return in blood, and the well-omened sacrifice of an Argive life.” When his voice reached the ears of the crowd, their minds were stunned, and an icy shudder coursed down their deepest marrows: Who have the fates prepared? Whom does Apollo choose? At this, the Ithacan thrust the seer Calchas into the midst of the crowd; demanding to know what the god’s will would be. And already, many were cruelly predicting that man’s false wickedness for me, and silently they saw what was coming: For ten-whole-days the seer kept silent, refusing either to reveal the secret by words, or condemn anyone to death. But eventually, urged-on by the Ithacan’s clamors, he broke into speech, as agreed, and doomed me to the altar. All men deeply felt this: what each had feared for himself, He endured, when directed towards another’s destruction. And now the terrible day had arrived, with sacred rights prepared for me, the salted grain, and headbands around my forehead. I stole myself—I confess— from death, and I burst my bonds, and all that night I hid by a muddy lake among the reeds, until they might set sail… if-- as it so happened-- they had. But now, I’ve no hope of seeing my old country again, nor my sweet children or the father I long for: Those that, alas, perhaps they’ll seek to punish for my flight, and avenge my crime through the deaths of more unfortunates! But I beg you, by the gods, by divine power that knows the truth, Or by whatever honor that anywhere remains pure among men, have pity on such troubles, I beg of you, have pity for the soul that endures such undignified suffering.” By such tears we granted him his life, and also we pitied him. King Priam himself is the first to order that his manacles and tight bonds be removed, and speaks these words of friendship: “Whoever you are, forget the forsaken Greeks! From now on you’ll be one of us: But tell me truthfully what I ask: Why have they built this huge hulk of a horse? Who created it? What do they aim at? What religious object or war machine is it?” Priam spoke. And the other, schooled in Pelian craft and trickery, raised his unbound palms towards the stars, crying: “YOU eternal fires, in your invulnerable power, be witness!” he cried “YOU altars and impious swords I escaped, YOU sacrificial ribbons of the Gods that I wore as victim: with right I break the Greek’s solemn oaths, with right I hate them, and if things are hidden bring them to light: as I’m bound by no laws of their country. But you, O Troy, maintain your assurances, keep yourself intact: For if I speak the truth, I will repay your faith in me handsomely. All hopes of the Greeks and their confidence in undertaking the war Had always depended on Athena’s aid. From that moment— when the impious son of Tydeus, and Ulysses, inventor of wickedness, approached the fateful Palladium to snatch it from its sacred temple, Having killed-off the guards there on the citadel’s heights, and dared to seize the holy statue with blood soaked-hands and touch the sacred ribbons of the goddess, From that moment— all receded and ebbed backwards, all hope for the Greeks, broken men, opposed by the mind of the Goddess. And not with dubious meaning did Athena give sign of this, for scarcely was the statue set up in camp, when suddenly glittering flames shone from her upturned eyes, a salty sweat ran over her limbs, and (marvelous to tell) she herself darted from the ground with shield on her arm, and spear quivering. Calchas immediately proclaimed that the flight by sea must be attempted, and that Troy cannot be uprooted by Argive weapons, unless they renew the omens at Argos, and take the goddess home, whom they have indeed taken by sea in their curved ships. And now they are heading for their native Mycenae with the wind, obtaining weapons and the friendship of the gods, re-crossing the sea to arrive unexpectedly, So Calchas reads the omens. Warned by him, they’ve set up this statue of a horse for the wounded goddess, instead of the Palladium, to atone severely for their sin. And Calchas ordered them to raise the huge mass of woven timbers up to the sky, so that your gates would not take it, nor might it be dragged within your walls, or watch over the people in their ancient rites. Since if your hands violated Minerva’s gift, then utter ruin (may the gods first turn that prediction on themselves!) would come to Priam and the Trojans: yet… if it ascended into your citadel, dragged by your hands, Asia would come to the very walls of Pelops, in mighty war, and a like fate would await our children.” Through such trickery and the skillful lies of Sinon, this story was believed, and we were cornered by his surliness and false tears, We, who were never conquered by Tydides, nor Larissan Achilles, nor by those decades of war, nor those thousands of ships. Then, something much greater and more terrible befalls us wretches, and further distresses our unsuspecting souls. Laocoön, chosen by lot as priest of Neptune, was then sacrificing a huge bull at the customary altar. When behold! A pair of serpents with huge coils, snaking over the sea from Tenedos through the tranquil deep (as I shudder to tell it), and heading for the shore side by side: their fronts lift high over the tide, and their blood-red crests top the waves, the rest of their bodies slide through the ocean behind, and their huge backs arch in voluminous folds. There’s a roar from the foaming sea: now they reach the shore, and with burning eyes suffused with blood and fire, they lick at their hissing jaws with flickering tongues. Blanching at the sight, we scatter. But They move on a set course towards Laocoön: and first each serpent entwines the slender bodies of his two sons, and, biting at them, devours their wretched limbs: Then, as he comes to their aid, weapons in hand, they seize him too, and wreathe him in massive coils: now encircling his waist twice, twice winding their scaly folds around his throat, their high necks and heads tower above him. As he strains to burst the knots with his hands, his sacred headband is drenched in blood and dark venom, while he sends terrible shouts up to the heavens, like the savage bellowing of a bull that’s fled, mortally wounded from the altar, shaking the useless axe from its neck. But the serpent pair, slithering away to the high temple, Escape and seek the stronghold of fierce Athena, to hide there under the goddess’s feet, and the circle of her shield. Then in truth a new terror begins to vibrate through each man’s trembling chest, and they say that he suffered justly for his sin, Laocoon, who once wounded the sacred oak with his spear, hurtling its wicked shaft into the trunk. “Pull the statue to her house, and offer prayers to the goddess’s divinity!” They are shouting… So, we opened the walls, and breached the defenses of the city. All prepare themselves for the work and they set up wheels under its feet, allowing for movement, and they stretch hemp ropes around its neck. That fatal machine mounts our walls, pregnant with arms. And around it virgin girls and boys…. ...pregnant with arms, and around it virgin girls and boys sing sacred songs, and delight in touching their hands to the ropes: Up it glides and threateningly rolls into the midst of our city. O Fatherland, O Ilium house of the gods, and you, Trojan walls famous-in-war! Four times it sticks at the threshold of the gates, and four times the weapons clash in its belly: and yet we press on, regardless, blind with frenzy, and we site the accursed creature on top of our sacred citadel. Even then Cassandra reveals our future fate with her lips, She who, by a God’s decree will never be believed by the Trojans We unfortunates, for whom that day was to be our last, We clothe the temples throughout the city with festive branches. Meanwhile the heavens turn, and night rushes from the Ocean, wrapping in its vast shadow the earth, the sky, and the Myrmidon’s tricks. All through the city Trojans fall silent…Sleep envelopes their weary limbs. And already the Greek phalanx of battle-ready ships was sailing from Tenedos, in the benign stillness of the silent moon, seeking the known shore, where Sinon raised a torch on the royal citadel; where Sinon, wicked, but protected from the gods’ doom, sets free the Greeks imprisoned by planks of pine within the cavernous belly. Opened, the horse releases them into the air, and sliding down a lowered rope Thessandrus, and Sthenelus, and their leader, fatal Ulysses, emerge joyfully from their wooden womb, with Acamas, and Thoas, and Peleus’s son Neoptolemus, the noble Machaon, and Menelaus, and Epeus who himself devised this trick. They infiltrate the city that’s entombed in sleep and wine, They slaughter the watchmen, and, opening all the gates, They welcome their comrades, and link their clandestine ranks. It was that hour when first sleep begins for weary mortals, and steals them over as the sweetest gift of the Gods. Behold: in a dream, before my eyes, Hector, saddest of all, seemed to me to stand there, and was pouring out great tears, torn by the chariot, as once he was, black with bloody dust, and his swollen feet pierced by the thongs. Oh, how he looked to me then! How changed he was from that Hector who had returned wearing Achilles’ armor, or he who had set Trojan flames to the Greek ships! His beard was ragged, his hair was matted with blood, bearing those wounds which, having been dragged many times around the walls, he received for his country. And, weeping, I seemed to myself To call out to the man, speaking such sorrowfull words: “O Dardanian light, O truest hope of the Trojans, what has so delayed you, Hector? From what shores do you, long-awaited, arrive? So that I, after the deaths of so many kin, after so many troubles of our people and city, might finally see you in exhaustion?! O what shameful events have marred that clear face? And why do I see these wounds?’ He does not reply, nor does he wait on my idle questioning, But, dragging heavy sighs from the depths of his heart, he groans: “Oh! Son of the goddess, fly! Tear thyself away from the flames! The enemy has taken the walls! Troy falls from her high place! Enough has been given to Priam and your Country: if Troy could be saved by any hand, it would have been saved by your own! Now Troy entrusts her sacred relics and household gods to thee: take them as friends of your fate, seek mighty walls for them, those you will find at last when you have wandered the seas.” So he speaks, and brings the sacred headbands in his hands from the innermost shrine, potent Vesta, and the undying flame. Meanwhile, within the city’s walls: fear is confounded by grief mixed on all sides; and although my father Anchises’ house was remote, secluded, and hidden by trees, the sounds grow clearer and clearer, and the terrors of war assault it. I tear myself from sleep, and climb to the highest rooftop, Standing there still, with ears outstretched, I strain to hear: as when flames attack a wheat-field, with the south wind raging, or when a sudden torrent released from a high mountain stream drowns the fields, lays-low the crops and labors of cattle, and brings-down the trees headlong; as the dazed shepherd, oblivious, hears only the faint echo from a high rocky peak. Then, the truth was plain to see, and the Greeks’ insidious plot revealed. Already the vast hall of Apollo was given to ruin, The Vulcan fires consume it, already nearby blazes Ucalegon’s; and the wide Sigean straits reflect the glare. Suddenly the clamors of men and the blaring of trumpets arises. Frantically, I seek arms: not that there was much use for arms, but my spirit burned to gather men for battle and race to the citadel with my friends, blazing in spirit: Madness and Anger hurl my mind headlong, and I think it beautiful to die with weapon in hand. But, behold— Panthus, having escaped the Greek spears, Panthus, son of Othrys, high priest of Apollo, With his own hands—dragging the sacred relics of the conquered gods, and his little grandchild, he runs frantically to my door: “Where’s the best advantage, O Panthus? What position should I take?” I’d scarcely spoken to him, when he answered me with a groan: “The final day has arrived! Troy’s most inescapable hour! We Trojans are past, Ilium is past, and so is the great glory of the Troiad: Jupiter bears all to savage Argos: Greeks are now the lords of the city in-flames. The horse, standing high on the ramparts, Spills-forth savage warriors, and Sinon the conqueror exultantly stirs the flames. Others are waiting at the wide-open gates, as many thousands-as-ever that came from great Mycenae: even more stand with hostile weapons, and block the narrow streets; a line of threatening steel with naked flickering blades is prepared for slaughter: scarcely had the first guards at the gates even attempted to resist, and they fought, blinded by Mars.” By these words from Othrys’ son, and by divine will, I’m thrust amongst the weapons and the flames, where the dismal Fury shrieks with growls, and clamors rise to the sky. My Friends join me: Ripheus and Epytus, mighty in battle, along with Hypanis and Dymas, visible in the moonlight, They gathered to my sides, and young Coroebus, Mygdon’s son— as by chance he’d arrived in Troy at that time, burning in mad love for Cassandra, and so had potentially brought help to the Trojans as a son-in-law to Priam, Oh that unlucky man, he who would not listen to the prophecies of his frenzied bride! When I saw them crowded there, eager for battle, I said the following: “Men— bravest of all of those who suffer, if your ardent desire remains set on following me to certain end, and you yourselves can see where our fortune must lie: For All the gods by whom this empire relied are gone, leaving behind their temples and altars: you fight for a city aflame. So Let us die, and meet our demise in the midst of battle! The beaten have one refuge— to have no hope of salvation!” Thus I roused their young spirits to frenzy. And then, just like savage she-wolves in a dark mist, blindly driven by the cruel rage of their mindless bellies, leaving behind their pups who wait with thirsty jaws, through spears and our enemies’ ranks we slip, escaping from scarcely-doubtful death, as we journey into the heart of the city. Dark night surrounds us in deep shadow…Who could describe such a night? Who could even begin to relate such destruction in words, or equal such pain with tears? The ancient city of Troy falls in ruin, she who ruled for so many years: Numerous piles of corpses lie strewn about through streets, houses, and even the sacred temples of Gods! Nor is it the Trojans alone who pay the penalty with blood: for courage returns at times to the hearts of the conquered, and the Greek victors die. Cruel mourning is everywhere, everywhere there is panic, and multiple scenes of death. And Then, with a great crowd of Greeks around him, Androgeos salutes us, thinking us allied troops by mistake and he calls to us as well in friendly speech: “Ha! Hurry, men! For what sluggishness makes you so delay, while the others are happily raping and plundering burning Troy? Or Are you just-now arriving from the tall ships?” He spoke. And, straight-away (since no reply-given was credible enough) he knew he’d fallen into the enemy fold. Stunned, he drew back his steps and stifled his voice. Like a man who unexpectedly treads on a snake in rough briars, as he strides over the ground, and shrinks back in sudden fear as it rears in anger and swells its dark-green neck. No-less-otherwise did Androgeos, shuddering at the sight of us, draw back. We immediately charged forward and surround them closely with weapons, ignorant of the place, and seized by terror, as they are, We slaughter them wholesale-- Fortune favors our first efforts. And at this sucess, Coroebus, exultant with courage, cries: “O Comrades, wherever fortune first points-out the path to safety, and wherever she shows her favorable hand, let us follow: Let us change our shields and adopt Greek emblems! Deceit or courage— Who will question either in war?! The Greeks will arm us themselves!” Having spoken, he takes up Androgeos’s plumed helmet, his shield with its noble markings, and straps the Greek’s wide sword to his side. Ripheus does likewise, Dymas too, and all the warriors delight in it: Each man arming himself with the fresh spoils. We pass on mingling with the Greeks, with gods that are not our known, And in many an-armed encounter through the blind night We clash, sending many a-Greek down to the depths of Orcus. Some scatter to their ships and run for safer shores, others, in humiliating terror, climb the vast horse again and hide in the womb they know well. But Alas, no faith is to be had in anything the will of the gods opposes! Behold, Priam’s virgin daughter is dragged by her hair, from the sanctuary and temple of Minerva, Cassandra lifts her gleaming eyes to the heavens in vain: her eyes, since chains restrained her gentle palms. Unable to bear the sight of this, Coeroebus, infuriated, hurls himself headlong among the ranks, about to die. We follow him, and with weapons locked, we charge together. When Without warning, we’re overwhelmed by Trojan spears hurled from the high towers— a senseless slaughter caused by the look of our armor, and the confusion arising from our Greek crests. Then the Greeks, groaning in anger at the girl being taken, having gathered from all sides, they attack—Ajax the fiercest, and the Atrides twins, and all the Dolopian cohorts rush at us: Just as at the onset of a tempest, the conflicting winds clash, the West, the South, and the East that delights in the horses of Dawn: as the forest roars, as brine-wet Nereus rages with his trident, as he stirs the waters from their lowest depths. Even those Greeks that we’d confused through the dark of night, and driven-out right through the city by our deception, They re-appear: and for the first time they recognize our shields and deceitful weapons, and that our language differs from theirs. We’re overwhelmed by their sudden numbers, and Coroebus first Falls at the altar of the Godess mighty-in-arms, Slain by the right hands of Peneleus and Ripheus, he who was the most just of all Trojans, and keenest for what was right (the gods’ vision was otherwise) Hypanis and Dymas likewise perish at the hands of allies; Neither could your great piety, Panthus, nor could Apollo’s sacred headband defend you in your downfall. O Ashes of Ilium, funeral pyre of my people, be witness that, at your ruin, I did not evade the weapons, nor the risks of the Greeks-- and if it might have been my fate to die, at-least I’ve earned it by my hand. But Then, we are separated, Iphitus and Pelias from me, (Iphitus weighed down by his years, and Pelias, slow-footed, wounded by Ulysses), Separately, we’re summoned to Priam’s palace by the clamor. Here’s a great battle indeed: as if the rest of the war were nothing, as if others weren’t dying throughout the whole of the city, And So we see Wild War and the Greeks rushing to the palace, filling the entrance with the jabbing of spears and pressing of shields. Ladders cling to the walls: men crowd the stairs under the very doorposts, with their left hands holding defensive shields against the spears, grasping the sloping stone with their right. In turn, the Trojans pull down the turrets and roof-tiles of the vaults, prepared to defend themselves even in death, seeing the end near them, with the masonry as weapons: and they send down the gilded roof-beams, the glory of their ancient fathers. Others with naked swords blockthe inner doors: these they defend in massed ranks. And so our spirits were re-inspired, to bring help to the King’s palace, to relieve our warriors with our aid, and add power to the beaten. There was an entrance with hidden doors, and a passage in use between Priam’s halls, and a secluded gateway beyond, which the unfortunate Andromache, while the kingdom stood, often would traverse, unattended, to see her husband’s parents, or in taking little Astyanax to his grandfather. Stealthily, I followed it the topmost heights of the pediment, from where A band of wretched Trojans were hurtling their missiles in vain. This turret, standing on the sloping edge and rising from the roof to the sky, was one from where all Troy could be seen, and the Danaan ships, and the Achaian camp: I proceeded around, slashing at its edges with my sword, wherever the upper parts showed weaker mortar, and together we wrenched it from its high pediment. Falling suddenly it dragged all to ruin with a roar, falling far and wide over the Greek ranks. But others would soon arrive; neither would the stones nor any of the various missiles meanwhile cease to fly. In front of the courtyard itself, at the very threshold of the palace Pyrrhus exalts, glittering with the sheen of bronze: Just like when a snake, fed on poisonous herbs, in the light, that cold winter has held, with belly swollen, under the ground, already gleaming with youth, its skin sloughed, ripples its slimy back, lifts its front high towards the sun, and darts its triple-forked tongue from its jaws. Huge Periphas, and the driver of Achilles’ team, Automedon, the armor bearer, and all the Scyrian youths advance on the palace together, and hurl flames onto the roof. Pyrrhus himself among the front ranks, clutching a double-axe, breaks through the stubborn latch, wanting to rip the bronze doors from their very hinges: and now, hewing out a hole in the timber, he breaches the solid oak and opens a huge window with a massive gaping mouth. The palace within appears, and the long halls are revealed: the inner sanctum of Priam and the ancient kings is breached, and armed men are seen standing on the very threshold. But, inside the palace, the tumult of groans mingles with sad confusion, and deep within, the hollow halls howl with wails of women : the clamor strikes at the golden stars. Trembling mothers wander the vast building, clasping the doorposts, and placing kisses on them. Pyrrhus drives forward with his father Achilles’ strength- neither barricades nor the guards themselves can stop him: the door collapses under the ram’s blows, and the posts give-way, wrenched from their sockets. Violence makes a path: the Greeks burst forth, force a passage, slaughter the front ranks, and fill the wide space with their men-- A foaming river is not so furious when it floods, bursting its banks, overwhelming the barriers against it, and ragging in a mass through the fields, sweeping cattle and stables across the whole plain. I saw Pyrrhus myself on the threshold, mad with slaughter, and the two sons of Atreus. I saw Hecuba and her hundred women, and Priam at the altars, polluting with blood the flames that he himself had sanctified! Those fifty wedding chambers, the hope of so many offspring, the proud doorposts, rich in spoils of barbarian gold, come crashing down in flames: and the Greeks take what the fire spares. And perhaps you might ask, what became of Priam’s fate? When he saw the state of the captive city, the palace doors wrenched away, and the enemy among the inner rooms, the old man clasped his long-neglected armor onto his trembling shoulders, and fastened-on his useless sword, and hurried into the thick of the enemy seeking death. In the center of the halls, and under the sky’s bare arch, was an immense altar, with an ancient laurel nearby that leant on the altar, and clothed the household gods with shade. Here Hecuba and her daughters, like doves driven to shelter by a dark storm, crouched uselessly by the shrines, huddled together, clutching at the feet of the gods. As soon as she saw Priam himself dressed in youthful armor she cried: “What insanity, poor husband, urges you to fasten on these weapons? For Where do you run? The hour demands no such help, nor such defenses as these, not even if my own Hector were here himself. Hide here with us, I beg you, this altar will protect us all, or else let us die together.” Thus her lips made utterance, and she drew the old man towards her, and set him down on the sacred steps. When Behold, Polites, one of Priam’s sons, escaping Pyrrhus’s slaughter, Running down the long hallways, through enemies and spears, and, wounded, he flees through the empty courts. Pyrrhus chases after him, eager to strike him, and grasps at him now, and again, with his hand at spear-point. When finally he’d reached the eyes and gaze of his parents, he fell slain, and poured out his life in a river of blood. Priam, though even now already in the clutches of death did not spare his voice at this, nor hold back his anger: “For such wickedness!” he cried, “for such SIN, may the GODS, if there be justice in heaven that cares for such things, with a kind thanks, and fitting reward Repay YOU — You who have made me see my own son’s death in front of my face, and defiled a father’s sight with murder. Not even Achilles, whose son you falsely claim to be was such an enemy to Priam: he respected the laws of faith and the suppliant’s rights, and returned Hector’s bloodless corpse to its tomb, and sent me home to my kingdom.” Thus having spoken, the old man threw his ineffectual spear completely without strength, which immediately spun from the clanging bronze, and hung uselessly, suspended from the center of the shield. Pyrrhus spoke to him: “Then, you be messenger: carry the news to my father, to Peleus’s son: remember to tell him of degenerate Pyrrhus, and of all my pitiful deeds: NOW: DIE!” Saying this, he dragged Priam, trembling and slithering in the pool of his son’s blood to the very altar, and, twining his left hand in his hair, raising in his right the glittering sword, he buried it to the hilt in the old man’s side. This was the end of Priam’s life, This was the death that fell to him by fate- seeing Troy ablaze and its citadel toppled, he who once was ruler over so many Asian lands and peoples: A once mighty body lies on the shore, the head torn from its shoulders. A corpse without a name. Then for the first time a wild terror overcame me, I stood amazed: as my dear father’s image rose before me I saw a king of like age with a cruel wound exposed, breathing his life away, and my Creusa forlorn, and the ransacked house, and the fate of my little Iulus. I looked back, and considered the troops that were around me. They had all left me abandoned, wearied, and had hurled their bodies down to the earth, dropping dead with misery among the flames. And so now I was alone, I’d thought, when, nearby Vesta’s Sacred threshold hiding silently in the secret shrine I see Helen, daughter of Tyndareus; the bright flames gave me light, as my eyes wandered, gazing everywhere, randomly searching, Afraid of Trojans angered at the fall of Troy, and of Greek vengeance, and the fury of a husband she deserted, and she also, fearing the mutual curse of Troy and her own Erinys had concealed herself, a hated thing, and crouched by the altars. Fire blazed in my spirit: Anger rose for avenging my fallen land, and to exact the punishment for her wickedness. “Shall she be allowed, unharmed, to see Sparta again and her native Mycenae? And go in the triumphant role of a queen to see her house and husband, parents and children again, attended by a crowd of Trojan women and Phrygian slaves? When Priam has been put to the sword, with Troy consumed by flames? The Dardanian shore soaked again and again with blood? It shall not be!—Though there’s no glory in a woman’s punishment, and such a conquest wins no praise, yet still I WILL be praised for extinguishing wickedness and exacting well-earned Vengeance, and I will delight in filling my soul with the flames of revenge, and in appeasing my people’s ashes!” I blurted out these words, and was raging on with a furious mind, when She herself came to me in vision, never before so clear to my eyes, gleaming forth with pure light through the night, My dear mother, appearing to me as truly as she ever may be seen by the gods, as she’s accustomed to be, and, taking me by my right hand, She stopped me, and imparted these words from her rose-tinted lips: “O Son, what grief stirs in thee such insatiable anger? Why rageth thou? Has your concern for what is ours vanished? Will you not first see where you’ve left your father Anchises, worn out with age, and whether Creusa your wife and your son Ascanius still live? Those whom Greek ranks surround on all sides, and if my love did not protect them, already now flames would have caught them and enemy swords drank of their blood! You do not hate the face of the Spartan daughter of Tyndareus, nor is Paris to blame: the ruthlessness of the Gods, of the Gods brought down this power, and toppled Troy from its heights. See-- (for I’ll tear away all the mist that now, shrouding your sight, dims your mortal vision, and darkens everything with moisture: don’t be afraid of what your mother commands, nor refuse to obey her wisdom)-- Here, where you see shattered heaps of stone torn from stone, and smoke billowing mixed with dust, Neptune is shaking the walls, and the foundations, stirred by his mighty trident, and tearing the whole city up by its roots. There, Juno, the fiercest, is first to take the Scaean Gate, and, sword at her side, calls on her troops from the ships, in rage. Now, behold, Tritonian Pallas, standing on the highest towers, sending down lighting from the clouds, wearing her grim Gorgon breastplate. Father Jupiter himself supplies the Greeks with courage and fortunate strength, himself exciting the gods against the Trojans. Hurry, O Son, flee and put an end to your efforts. I will not leave you, and I will place you safe at your father’s door.” She spoke, and hid herself in the dense shadows of night. Dreadful shapes then appeared, the vast powers of the gods opposed to Troy. Then in truth all Ilium seemed to me to sink in flames, and Neptune’s Troy was toppled from her base: just as when lumberjacks on the mountain heights compete to uproot an ancient ash tree, struck time and again by axe and blade, as it threatens continually to fall, with trembling foliage and shivering crown, Until, gradually vanquished by the blows, it groans at last, And, torn from the ridge, it comes crashing down in ruin. I descend, and, led by a goddess, from flames and from enemies I escape: the spears give way, and the flames recede. And now, when I reached the threshold of my father’s house, my former home, my father, whom it was my first desire to carry into the high mountains, and whom I first sought out, stubbornly refused to extend his life or endure exile, since Troy had fallen. “Oh, You, whose blood has the vigor of youth,” he cried, “and whose power is unimpaired in its force, it’s for you to take flight! As for me, if the gods had wished to lengthen the thread of my life, they’d have spared my house. It is more than enough that I saw one destruction, and survived one taking of the city. Depart, Depart, say farewell to my body lying here just-so. I shall find death with my own hand, or the enemy will pity me, and look for plunder. The loss of my burial is nothing. Clinging to old age for so long, I am useless, and hated by the gods, ever since the father of them and the ruler of men breathed the winds of his lightning into me, and touched me with flames.” So he stubbornly persisted in saying, and remained adamant. But We, for our part: Creusa, my wife, and Ascanius, all our household, weeping bitterly, determined that he should not destroy everything along with himself, and crush us by urging our doom. Yet He refused and clung to his place and his purpose. I hurried to my weapons again, and, miserably, longed for death; Since what tactic or what opportunity was open to me now? “Did you think that I could leave you, Father, and depart? Did such sinful words just fall from your lips? If it pleases the gods to leave nothing of our great city standing, if this is set in your mind, if it delights you to add yourself and all that’s yours to the ruin of Troy, then the door is open to that death: soon Pyrrhus comes, drenched in Priam’s blood, he who butchers the son in front of the father, the father at the altar. Kind mother— Did you rescue me from fire and sword for this: to see the enemy in the depths of my house, and Ascanius and my father and Creusa slaughtered, thrown together in a heap in one another’s blood? Weapons, men! Bring weapons! The final hour calls to the defeated! Lead me to the Greeks again: let me revisit the battle anew! For on this day we shall not all perish… unavenged!”  And So, again, I fasten-on my sword, slip my left arm into the shield’s strap, adjust it, and rush from the house. But see, my wife clings to the threshold, clasping my foot, and holds little Iulus up towards his father: “If you go to die, take us with you too, at all costs!” she cried, “But if, as you’ve proved, you trust in the weapons you wear, defend this house first. To whom do you abandon little Iulus, and your father, and me, I who was once-spoken-of as your wife?” Crying out like this she filled the whole house with her wails, when suddenly, a wonder marvelous to-speak-of occurred. See, between the hands and faces of his grieving parents, a gentle light seemed to shine from the crown of little Iulus’s head, and a soft flame, harmless in its touch, licked at his hair, and grazed his forehead. Trembling with fear, we hurry to flick away the blazing strands, and extinguish the sacred fires with water. But Anchises, my father, lifts his eyes to the heavens, in delight, and raises his hands and voice to the sky: “All-powerful Jupiter! If you’re moved by Any prayers, see us, and, grant us but this: if we are worthy through our virtue, show us a sign of it, Father, and confirm your omens!” The old man scarcely had spoken, when a sudden crash thundered from the left, and a star slid through the darkness from the sky, and flew, trailing fire, in a burst of light. We watched it glide over the highest rooftops, And saw it bury its brightness in the forests of Ida, and the sign of its passage; Then the furrow of its long track gave out a glow, and all around the place smelled of sulphur. At this my father, truly overcome, raised himself towards the sky, and he proclaimed to the gods, adoring the sacred star: “Now now, there's no delay! I’ll follow you, and wherever you lead, there I’ll be! Gods of my fathers, save my line, save my grandson. This omen is yours, and Troy is in your divine power. I cannot decline, my Son, nor will I refuse to go with you.” He spoke, and now much clearer through the walls, the flames are audible, and the fire rolls its tide nearer. “Come then, dear father, clasp my neck: I will carry you on my shoulders, nor does that task weigh on me. Whatever happens, let it be for us both: the same shared risk, and the same salvation. Let little Iulus come with me, and let my wife follow our footsteps at a distance. You, servants, turn your attention to what I’m saying: At the entrance to the city there’s a mound, an ancient tomb of forsaken Ceres, and a venerable cypress nearby, protected through the years by the reverence of our fathers: Let us go by various paths to that one place. You, father, take the sacred objects and our country’s gods: for it would be a sin for me to touch them with hands, coming from such fighting and recent slaughters, until I’ve washed my whole being in running water.” So speaking, I bowed my head with my whole neck beneath My shoulders, over which I spread a cloak made of a tawny lion’s hide, and bent to the task: little Iulus clasps his hand in mine, and follows his father’s footsteps with unequaled strides. My wife walks behind us. We carry on walking through shadows of places, and I, whom until then had been moved by not any shower of spears hurtled, nor crowd of Greeks in hostile array, yet now already I’m terrified by the slightest breeze, and startled by every noise, anxious, and fearful equally for my companions and my burden. And now I was near the gates, and thought I had completed my journey, when suddenly the sound of approaching feet filled my hearing, and, peering through the darkness, my father cried: “My son, run my son, they are coming! I see their glittering shields and gleaming bronze.” Some hostile power, at this, must have scattered my muddled wits and hijacked my mind. For, while I was following alleyways, and straying from the region of streets that we knew well, did my wife Creusa halt, snatched away from me by wretched fate? Or did she wander from the path or collapse with exhaustion? Who knows: For she was never restored to our sight. Neither did I look back for my lost wife, nor cast a thought behind me, until we came to that mound, at ancient Ceres’ resting place. Here when all were gathered together at last, only one was missing, having escaped the notice of friends, child and husband. O What men or What Gods did I not wrongfully accuse in my madness? What had I seen in the fall of my city any crueler than this? Alas, I place Ascanius, and my father Anchises, and the gods of Troy in my companions’ care, and conceal them in a winding valley: and I seek the city once more, and take up my shining armor. I’m determined to incur every risk again, and retrace my steps Through all of Troy, and again expose my life to danger. First, I look for the wall, and the dark threshold of the gate from which my path led, and I retrace the landmarks of my course in the night, scanning them with my gaze.  Everywhere the terror in my heart and the silence itself dismay me. Then I take myself homewards, in case by chance, by some chance, she might be waiting there: The Greeks have invaded, and occupied the whole house. Suddenly eager fire rolls over the rooftop, and in the wind the flames take hold. The blaze rages to the heavens. I pass by, and see again Priam’s palace and the citadel. Now Phoenix, and fatal Ulysses, the chosen guards, watch over the spoils in the empty courts of Juno’s sanctuary. Here the Trojan treasures are gathered from every part, ripped from the blazing shrines, tables of the gods, solid gold bowls, and plundered robes. Mothers and trembling sons stand around in long ranks. I even dared to hurl my shouts through the shadows, filling the streets with my clamor, and in my misery, redoubling my useless cries, again and again. Searching, and raging endlessly among the city roofs, When the unhappy ghost and true shadow of Creusa appeared before my eyes, in a form greater than I’d known. I was dumbstruck, my hair stood on end, and my voice stuck in my throat. Then she spoke, and with these words mitigated my distress: “Oh sweet husband, what use is it to indulge in such mad grief? This has not happened without the divine will: neither its laws nor the ruler of great Olympus will let you take Creusa with you. Yours is a long exile, you must plough a vast reach of sea, and you will come to Hesperian land, where the Lydian Tiber flows in gentle course among the farmers’ rich fields. Here happiness, kingship, and a royal wife will be yours. Put away these tears for your beloved Creusa. I shall never see the noble halls of the Dolopians or Myrmidons, Nor will I go as a slave in war to some Greek wife, I, a woman of Troy, and daughter-in-law to divine Venus; instead the great mother of the gods keeps me here on this shore. And Now, farewell, and preserve your love for the son we share.” When she had spoken these words, leaving me alone, weeping, and wanting to say so many things, she faded into thin air. Three times I tried to throw my arms about her neck: three times her form fled my hands, clasping in vain, like the light breeze, most of all like a winged dream. So at last, when night was consumed, I returned to my friends. And now, amazed, I discover that a great number of new companions have streamed in, both women and men, a crowd gathering for exile: a deplorable throng. They had gathered from all sides, ready with courage and wealth, for whatever lands I wished to lead them, across the seas. And now, Lucifer was rising above the heights of Ida, Bringing-in the dawn, and the Greeks held the barricaded entrances to the gates, nor was there any hope of rescue. And so, I desisted, and, carrying my father, I took to the hills.