The Aeneid - Virgil (13 ebook reader .TXT) š
- Author: Virgil
Book online Ā«The Aeneid - Virgil (13 ebook reader .TXT) šĀ». Author Virgil
Forget the Greeks; be mine as thou wert theirs.
But truly tell, was it for force or guile,
Or some religious end, you raisād the pile?ā
Thus said the king. He, full of fraudful arts,
This well-invented tale for truth imparts:
āYe lamps of heavān!ā he said, and lifted high
His hands now free, āthou venerable sky!
Inviolable powārs, adorād with dread!
Ye fatal fillets, that once bound this head!
Ye sacred altars, from whose flames I fled!
Be all of you adjurād; and grant I may,
Without a crime, thā ungrateful Greeks betray,
Reveal the secrets of the guilty state,
And justly punish whom I justly hate!
But you, O king, preserve the faith you gave,
If I, to save myself, your empire save.
The Grecian hopes, and all thā attempts they made,
Were only founded on Minervaās aid.
But from the time when impious Diomede,
And false Ulysses, that inventive head,
Her fatal image from the temple drew,
The sleeping guardians of the castle slew,
Her virgin statue with their bloody hands
Polluted, and profanād her holy bands;
From thence the tide of fortune left their shore,
And ebbād much faster than it flowād before:
Their courage languishād, as their hopes decayād;
And Pallas, now averse, refusād her aid.
Nor did the goddess doubtfully declare
Her alterād mind and alienated care.
When first her fatal image touchād the ground,
She sternly cast her glaring eyes around,
That sparkled as they rollād, and seemād to threat:
Her heavānly limbs distillād a briny sweat.
Thrice from the ground she leapād, was seen to wield
Her brandishād lance, and shake her horrid shield.
Then Calchas bade our host for flight
And hope no conquest from the tedious war,
Till first they sailād for Greece; with prayārs besought
Her injurād powār, and better omens brought.
And now their navy plows the watāry main,
Yet soon expect it on your shores again,
With Pallas pleasād; as Calchas did ordain.
But first, to reconcile the blue-eyād maid
For her stolān statue and her towār betrayād,
Warnād by the seer, to her offended name
We raisād and dedicate this wondrous frame,
So lofty, lest throā your forbidden gates
It pass, and intercept our better fates:
For, once admitted there, our hopes are lost;
And Troy may then a new Palladium boast;
For so religion and the gods ordain,
That, if you violate with hands profane
Minervaās gift, your town in flames shall burn,
(Which omen, O ye gods, on Grecia turn!)
But if it climb, with your assisting hands,
The Trojan walls, and in the city stands;
Then Troy shall Argos and Mycenae burn,
And the reverse of fate on us return.ā
āWith such deceits he gainād their easy hearts,
Too prone to credit his perfidious arts.
What Diomede, nor Thetisā greater son,
A thousand ships, nor ten yearsā siege, had doneā ā
False tears and fawning words the city won.
āA greater omen, and of worse portent,
Did our unwary minds with fear torment,
Concurring to produce the dire event.
Laocoon, Neptuneās priest by lot that year,
With solemn pomp then sacrificād a steer;
When, dreadful to behold, from sea we spied
Two serpents, rankād abreast, the seas divide,
And smoothly sweep along the swelling tide.
Their flaming crests above the waves they show;
Their bellies seem to burn the seas below;
Their speckled tails advance to steer their course,
And on the sounding shore the flying billows force.
And now the strand, and now the plain they held;
Their ardent eyes with bloody streaks were fillād;
Their nimble tongues they brandishād as they came,
And lickād their hissing jaws, that sputterād flame.
We fled amazād; their destinād way they take,
And to Laocoon and his children make;
And first around the tender boys they wind,
Then with their sharpenād fangs their limbs and bodies grind.
The wretched father, running to their aid
With pious haste, but vain, they next invade;
Twice round his waist their winding volumes rollād;
And twice about his gasping throat they fold.
The priest thus doubly chokād, their crests divide,
And towāring oāer his head in triumph ride.
With both his hands he labours at the knots;
His holy fillets the blue venom blots;
His roaring fills the flitting air around.
Thus, when an ox receives a glancing wound,
He breaks his bands, the fatal altar flies,
And with loud bellowings breaks the yielding skies.
Their tasks performād, the serpents quit their prey,
And to the towār of Pallas make their way:
Couchād at her feet, they lie protected there
By her large buckler and protended spear.
Amazement seizes all; the genāral cry
Proclaims Laocoon justly doomād to die,
Whose hand the will of Pallas had withstood,
And dared to violate the sacred wood.
All vote tā admit the steed, that vows be paid
And incense offerād to thā offended maid.
A spacious breach is made; the town lies bare;
Some hoisting levers, some the wheels prepare
And fasten to the horseās feet; the rest
With cables haul along thā unwieldly beast.
Each on his fellow for assistance calls;
At length the fatal fabric mounts the walls,
Big with destruction. Boys with chaplets crownād,
And choirs of virgins, sing and dance around.
Thus raisād aloft, and then descending down,
It enters oāer our heads, and threats the town.
O sacred city, built by hands divine!
O valiant heroes of the Trojan line!
Four times he struck: as oft the clashing sound
Of arms was heard, and inward groans rebound.
Yet, mad with zeal, and blinded with our fate,
We haul along the horse in solemn state;
Then place the dire portent within the towār.
Cassandra cried, and cursād thā unhappy hour;
Foretold our fate; but, by the godās decree,
All heard, and none believād the prophecy.
With branches we the fanes adorn, and waste,
In jollity, the day ordainād to be the last.
Meantime the rapid heavāns rollād down the light,
And on the shaded ocean rushād the night;
Our men, secure, nor guards nor sentries held,
But easy sleep their weary limbs compellād.
The Grecians had embarkād their naval powārs
From Tenedos, and sought our well-known shores,
Safe under covert of the silent night,
And guided by thā imperial galleyās light;
When Sinon, favourād by the partial gods,
Unlockād the horse, and opād his dark abodes;
Restorād to vital air our hidden foes,
Who joyful from their long confinement rose.
Tysander bold, and Sthenelus their guide,
And dire Ulysses down the cable slide:
Then Thoas, Athamas, and Pyrrhus haste;
Nor was the Podalirian hero last,
Nor injurād Menelaus, nor the famād
EpeĆ¼s, who the fatal engine framād.
A nameless crowd succeed; their forces join
Tā invade the town, oppressād with sleep and wine.
Those few they find awake first meet their fate;
Then to their fellows they unbar the gate.
āāāTwas in the dead of night, when
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