Book XII

How the Wooden Horse was fashioned, and brought into Troy by her people.

  When round the walls of Troy the Danaan host
  Had borne much travail, and yet the end was not,
  By Calchas then assembled were the chiefs;
  For his heart was instructed by the hests
  Of Phoebus, by the flights of birds, the stars,
  And all the signs that speak to men the will
  Of Heaven; so he to that assembly cried:
  "No longer toil in leaguer of yon walls;
  Some other counsel let your hearts devise,
  Some stratagem to help the host and us.
  For here but yesterday I saw a sign:
  A falcon chased a dove, and she, hard pressed,
  Entered a cleft of the rock; and chafing he
  Tarried long time hard by that rift, but she
  Abode in covert. Nursing still his wrath,
  He hid him in a bush. Forth darted she,
  In folly deeming him afar: he swooped,
  And to the hapless dove dealt wretched death.
  Therefore by force essay we not to smite Troy,
  but let cunning stratagem avail."

  He spake; but no man's wit might find a way
  To escape their grievous travail, as they sought
  To find a remedy, till Laertes' son
  Discerned it of his wisdom, and he spake:
  "Friend, in high honour held of the Heavenly Ones,
  If doomed it be indeed that Priam's burg
  By guile must fall before the war-worn Greeks,
  A great Horse let us fashion, in the which
  Our mightiest shall take ambush. Let the host
  Burn all their tents, and sail from hence away
  To Tenedos; so the Trojans, from their towers
  Gazing, shall stream forth fearless to the plain.
  Let some brave man, unknown of any in Troy,
  With a stout heart abide without the Horse,
  Crouching beneath its shadow, who shall say:
  "`Achaea's lords of might, exceeding fain
  Safe to win home, made this their offering
  For safe return, an image to appease
  The wrath of Pallas for her image stolen
  From Troy.' And to this story shall he stand,
  How long soe'er they question him, until,
  Though never so relentless, they believe,
  And drag it, their own doom, within the town.
  Then shall war's signal unto us be given—
  To them at sea, by sudden flash of torch,
  To the ambush, by the cry, `Come forth the Horse!'
  When unsuspecting sleep the sons of Troy."

  He spake, and all men praised him: most of all
  Extolled him Calchas, that such marvellous guile
  He put into the Achaeans' hearts, to be
  For them assurance of triumph, but for Troy
  Ruin; and to those battle-lords he cried:
  "Let your hearts seek none other stratagem,
  Friends; to war-strong Odysseus' rede give ear.
  His wise thought shall not miss accomplishment.
  Yea, our desire even now the Gods fulfil.
  Hark! for new tokens come from the Unseen!
  Lo, there on high crash through the firmament
  Zeus' thunder and lightning! See, where birds to right
  Dart past, and scream with long-resounding cry!
  Go to, no more in endless leaguer of Troy
  Linger we. Hard necessity fills the foe
  With desperate courage that makes cowards brave;
  For then are men most dangerous, when they stake
  Their lives in utter recklessness of death,
  As battle now the aweless sons of Troy
  All round their burg, mad with the lust of fight."

  But cried Achilles' battle-eager son:
  "Calchas, brave men meet face to face their foes!
  Who skulk behind their walls, and fight from towers,
  Are nidderings, hearts palsied with base fear.
  Hence with all thought of wile and stratagem!
  The great war-travail of the spear beseems
  True heroes. Best in battle are the brave."

  But answer made to him Laertes' seed:
  "Bold-hearted child of aweless Aeacus' son,
  This as beseems a hero princely and brave,
  Dauntlessly trusting in thy strength, thou say'st.
  Yet thine invincible sire's unquailing might
  Availed not to smite Priam's wealthy burg,
  Nor we, for all our travail. Nay, with speed,
  As counselleth Calchas, go we to the ships,
  And fashion we the Horse by Epeius' hands,
  Who in the woodwright's craft is chiefest far
  Of Argives, for Athena taught his lore."

  Then all their mightiest men gave ear to him
  Save twain, fierce-hearted Neoptolemus
  And Philoctetes mighty-souled; for these
  Still were insatiate for the bitter fray,
  Still longed for turmoil of the fight. They bade
  Their own folk bear against that giant wall
  What things soe'er for war's assaults avail,
  In hope to lay that stately fortress low,
  Seeing Heaven's decrees had brought them both to war.
  Yea, they had haply accomplished all their will,
  But from the sky Zeus showed his wrath; he shook
  The earth beneath their feet, and all the air
  Shuddered, as down before those heroes twain
  He hurled his thunderbolt: wide echoes crashed
  Through all Dardania. Unto fear straightway
  Turned were their bold hearts: they forgat their might,
  And Calchas' counsels grudgingly obeyed.
  So with the Argives came they to the ships
  In reverence for the seer who spake from Zeus
  Or Phoebus, and they obeyed him utterly.

  What time round splendour-kindled heavens the stars
  From east to west far-flashing wheel, and when
  Man doth forget his toil, in that still hour
  Athena left the high mansions of the Blest,
  Clothed her in shape of a maiden tender-fleshed,
  And came to ships and host. Over the head
  Of brave Epeius stood she in his dream,
  And bade him build a Horse of tree: herself
  Would labour in his labour, and herself
  Stand by his side, to the work enkindling him.
  Hearing the Goddess' word, with a glad laugh
  Leapt he from careless sleep: right well he knew
  The Immortal One celestial. Now his heart
  Could hold no thought beside; his mind was fixed
  Upon the wondrous work, and through his soul
  Marched marshalled each device of craftsmanship.

  When rose the dawn, and thrust back kindly night
  To Erebus, and through the firmament streamed
  Glad glory, then Epeius told his dream
  To eager Argives—all he saw and heard;
  And hearkening joyed they with exceeding joy.
  Straightway to tall-tressed Ida's leafy glades
  The sons of Atreus sent swift messengers.
  These laid the axe unto the forest-pines,
  And hewed the great trees: to their smiting rang
  The echoing glens. On those far-stretching hills
  All bare of undergrowth the high peaks rose:
  Open their glades were, not, as in time past,
  Haunted of beasts: there dry the tree-trunks rose
  Wooing the winds. Even these the Achaeans hewed
  With axes, and in haste they bare them down
  From those shagged mountain heights to Hellespont's shores.
  Strained with a strenuous spirit at the work
  Young men and mules; and all the people toiled
  Each at his task obeying Epeius's hest.
  For with the keen steel some were hewing beams,
  Some measuring planks, and some with axes lopped
  Branches away from trunks as yet unsawn:
  Each wrought his several work. Epeius first
  Fashioned the feet of that great Horse of Wood:
  The belly next he shaped, and over this
  Moulded the back and the great loins behind,
  The throat in front, and ridged the towering neck
  With waving mane: the crested head he wrought,
  The streaming tail, the ears, the lucent eyes—
  All that of lifelike horses have. So grew
  Like a live thing that more than human work,
  For a God gave to a man that wondrous craft.
  And in three days, by Pallas's decree,
  Finished was all. Rejoiced thereat the host
  Of Argos, marvelling how the wood expressed
  Mettle, and speed of foot—yea, seemed to neigh.
  Godlike Epeius then uplifted hands
  To Pallas, and for that huge Horse he prayed:
  "Hear, great-souled Goddess: bless thine Horse and me!"
  He spake: Athena rich in counsel heard,
  And made his work a marvel to all men
  Which saw, or heard its fame in days to be.

  But while the Danaans o'er Epeius' work
  Joyed, and their routed foes within the walls
  Tarried, and shrank from death and pitiless doom,
  Then, when imperious Zeus far from the Gods
  Had gone to Ocean's streams and Tethys' caves,
  Strife rose between the Immortals: heart with heart
  Was set at variance. Riding on the blasts
  Of winds, from heaven to earth they swooped: the air
  Crashed round them. Lighting down by Xanthus' stream
  Arrayed they stood against each other, these
  For the Achaeans, for the Trojans those;
  And all their souls were thrilled with lust of war:
  There gathered too the Lords of the wide Sea.
  These in their wrath were eager to destroy
  The Horse of Guile and all the ships, and those
  Fair Ilium. But all-contriving Fate
  Held them therefrom, and turned their hearts to strife
  Against each other. Ares to the fray
  Rose first, and on Athena rushed. Thereat
  Fell each on other: clashed around their limbs
  The golden arms celestial as they charged.
  Round them the wide sea thundered, the dark earth
  Quaked 'neath immortal feet. Rang from them all
  Far-pealing battle-shouts; that awful cry
  Rolled up to the broad-arching heaven, and down
  Even to Hades' fathomless abyss:
  Trembled the Titans there in depths of gloom.
  Ida's long ridges sighed, sobbed clamorous streams
  Of ever-flowing rivers, groaned ravines
  Far-furrowed, Argive ships, and Priam's towers.
  Yet men feared not, for naught they knew of all
  That strife, by Heaven's decree. Then her high peaks
  The Gods' hands wrenched from Ida's crest, and hurled
  Against each other: but like crumbling sands
  Shivered they fell round those invincible limbs,
  Shattered to small dust. But the mind of Zeus,
  At the utmost verge of earth, was ware of all:
  Straight left he Ocean's stream, and to wide heaven
  Ascended, charioted upon the winds,
  The East, the North, the West-wind, and the South:
  For Iris rainbow-plumed led 'neath the yoke
  Of his eternal ear that stormy team,
  The ear which Time the immortal framed for him
  Of adamant with never-wearying hands.
  So came he to Olympus' giant ridge.
  His wrath shook all the firmament, as crashed
  From east to west his thunders; lightnings gleamed,
  As thick and fast his thunderbolts poured to earth,
  And flamed the limitless welkin. Terror fell
  Upon the hearts of those Immortals: quaked
  The limbs of all—ay, deathless though they were!
  Then Themis, trembling for them, swift as thought
  Leapt down through clouds, and came with speed to them—
  For in the strife she only had no part
  And stood between the fighters, and she cried:
  "Forbear the conflict! O, when Zeus is wroth,
  It ill beseems that everlasting Gods
  Should fight for men's sake, creatures of a day:
  Else shall ye be all suddenly destroyed;
  For Zeus will tear up all the hills, and hurl
  Upon you: sons nor daughters will he spare,
  But bury 'neath one ruin of shattered earth
  All. No escape shall ye find thence to light,
  In horror of darkness prisoned evermore."

  Dreading Zeus' menace gave they heed to her,
  From strife refrained, and cast away their wrath,
  And were made one in peace and amity.
  Some heavenward soared, some plunged into the sea,
  On earth stayed some. Amid the Achaean host
  Spake in his subtlety Laertes' son:
  "O valorous-hearted lords of the Argive host,
  Now prove in time of need what men ye be,
  How passing-strong, how flawless-brave! The hour
  Is this for desperate emprise: now, with hearts
  Heroic, enter ye yon carven horse,
  So to attain the goal of this stern war.
  For better it is by stratagem and craft
  Now to destroy this city, for whose sake
  Hither we came, and still are suffering
  Many afflictions far from our own land.
  Come then, and let your hearts be stout and strong
  For he who in stress of fight hath turned to bay
  And snatched a desperate courage from despair,
  Oft, though the weaker, slays a mightier foe.
  For courage, which is all men's glory, makes
  The heart great. Come then, set the ambush, ye
  Which be our mightiest, and the rest shall go
  To Tenedos' hallowed burg, and there abide
  Until our foes have haled within their walls
  Us with the Horse, as deeming that they bring
  A gift unto Tritonis. Some brave man,
  One whom the Trojans know not, yet we lack,
  To harden his heart as steel, and to abide
  Near by the Horse. Let that man bear in mind
  Heedfully whatsoe'er I said erewhile.
  And let none other thought be in his heart,
  Lest to the foe our counsel be revealed."

  Then, when all others feared, a man far-famed
  Made answer, Sinon, marked of destiny
  To bring the great work to accomplishment.
  Therefore with worship all men looked on him,
  The loyal of heart, as in the midst he spake:
  "Odysseus, and all ye Achaean chiefs,
  This work for which ye crave will I perform—
  Yea, though they torture me, though into fire
  Living they thrust me; for mine heart is fixed
  Not to escape, but die by hands of foes,
  Except I crown with glory your desire."

  Stoutly he spake: right glad the Argives were;
  And one said: "How the Gods have given to-day
  High courage to this man! He hath not been
  Heretofore valiant. Heaven is kindling him
  To be the Trojans' ruin, but to us
  Salvation. Now full soon, I trow, we reach
  The goal of grievous war, so long unseen."

  So a voice murmured mid the Achaean host.
  Then, to stir up the heroes, Nestor cried:
  "Now is the time, dear sons, for courage and strength:
  Now do the Gods bring nigh the end of toil:
  Now give they victory to our longing hands.
  Come, bravely enter ye this cavernous Horse.
  For high renown attendeth courage high.
  Oh that my limbs were mighty as of old,
  When Aeson's son for heroes called, to man
  Swift Argo, when of the heroes foremost I
  Would gladly have entered her, but Pelias
  The king withheld me in my own despite.
  Ah me, but now the burden of years—O nay,
  As I were young, into the Horse will I
  Fearlessly! Glory and strength shall courage give."

  Answered him golden-haired Achilles' son:
  "Nestor, in wisdom art thou chief of men;
  But cruel age hath caught thee in his grip:
  No more thy strength may match thy gallant will;
  Therefore thou needs must unto Tenedos' strand.
  We will take ambush, we the youths, of strife
  Insatiate still, as thou, old sire, dost bid."

  Then strode the son of Neleus to his side,
  And kissed his hands, and kissed the head of him
  Who offered thus himself the first of all
  To enter that huge horse, being peril-fain,
  And bade the elder of days abide without.
  Then to the battle-eager spake the old:
  "Thy father's son art thou! Achilles' might
  And chivalrous speech be here! O, sure am I
  That by thine hands the Argives shall destroy
  The stately city of Priam. At the last,
  After long travail, glory shall be ours,
  Ours, after toil and tribulation of war;
  The Gods have laid tribulation at men's feet
  But happiness far off, and toil between:
  Therefore for men full easy is the path
  To ruin, and the path to fame is hard,
  Where feet must press right on through painful toil."

  He spake: replied Achilles' glorious son:
  "Old sire, as thine heart trusteth, be it vouchsafed
  In answer to our prayers; for best were this:
  But if the Gods will otherwise, be it so.
  Ay, gladlier would I fall with glory in fight
  Than flee from Troy, bowed 'neath a load of shame."

  Then in his sire's celestial arms he arrayed
  His shoulders; and with speed in harness sheathed
  Stood the most mighty heroes, in whose healers
  Was dauntless spirit. Tell, ye Queens of Song,
  Now man by man the names of all that passed
  Into the cavernous Horse; for ye inspired
  My soul with all my song, long ere my cheek
  Grew dark with manhood's beard, what time I fed
  My goodly sheep on Smyrna's pasture-lea,
  From Hermus thrice so far as one may hear
  A man's shout, by the fane of Artemis,
  In the Deliverer's Grove, upon a hill
  Neither exceeding low nor passing high.

  Into that cavernous Horse Achilles' son
  First entered, strong Menelaus followed then,
  Odysseus, Sthenelus, godlike Diomede,
  Philoctetes and Menestheus, Anticlus,
  Thoas and Polypoetes golden-haired,
  Aias, Eurypylus, godlike Thrasymede,
  Idomeneus, Meriones, far-famous twain,
  Podaleirius of spears, Eurymachus,
  Teucer the godlike, fierce Ialmenus,
  Thalpius, Antimachus, Leonteus staunch,
  Eumelus, and Euryalus fair as a God,
  Amphimachus, Demophoon, Agapenor,
  Akamas, Meges stalwart Phyleus' son—
  Yea, more, even all their chiefest, entered in,
  So many as that carven Horse could hold.
  Godlike Epeius last of all passed in,
  The fashioner of the Horse; in his breast lay
  The secret of the opening of its doors
  And of their closing: therefore last of all
  He entered, and he drew the ladders up
  Whereby they clomb: then made he all secure,
  And set himself beside the bolt. So all
  In silence sat 'twixt victory and death.

  But the rest fired the tents, wherein erewhile
  They slept, and sailed the wide sea in their ships.
  Two mighty-hearted captains ordered these,
  Nestor and Agamemnon lord of spears.
  Fain had they also entered that great Horse,
  But all the host withheld them, bidding stay
  With them a-shipboard, ordering their array:
  For men far better work the works of war
  When their kings oversee them; therefore these
  Abode without, albeit mighty men.
  So came they swiftly unto Tenedos' shore,
  And dropped the anchor-stones, then leapt in haste
  Forth of the ships, and silent waited there
  Keen-watching till the signal-torch should flash.

  But nigh the foe were they in the Horse, and now
  Looked they for death, and now to smite the town;
  And on their hopes and fears uprose the dawn.

  Then marked the Trojans upon Hellespont's strand
  The smoke upleaping yet through air: no more
  Saw they the ships which brought to them from Greece
  Destruction dire. With joy to the shore they ran,
  But armed them first, for fear still haunted them
  Then marked they that fair-carven Horse, and stood
  Marvelling round, for a mighty work was there.
  A hapless-seeming man thereby they spied,
  Sinon; and this one, that one questioned him
  Touching the Danaans, as in a great ring
  They compassed him, and with unangry words
  First questioned, then with terrible threatenings.
  Then tortured they that man of guileful soul
  Long time unceasing. Firm as a rock abode
  The unquivering limbs, the unconquerable will.
  His ears, his nose, at last they shore away
  In every wise tormenting him, until
  He should declare the truth, whither were gone
  The Danaans in their ships, what thing the Horse
  Concealed within it. He had armed his mind
  With resolution, and of outrage foul
  Recked not; his soul endured their cruel stripes,
  Yea, and the bitter torment of the fire;
  For strong endurance into him Hera breathed;
  And still he told them the same guileful tale:
  "The Argives in their ships flee oversea
  Weary of tribulation of endless war.
  This horse by Calchas' counsel fashioned they
  For wise Athena, to propitiate
  Her stern wrath for that guardian image stol'n
  From Troy. And by Odysseus' prompting I
  Was marked for slaughter, to be sacrificed
  To the sea-powers, beside the moaning waves,
  To win them safe return. But their intent
  I marked; and ere they spilt the drops of wine,
  And sprinkled hallowed meal upon mine head,
  Swiftly I fled, and, by the help of Heaven,
  I flung me down, clasping the Horse's feet;
  And they, sore loth, perforce must leave me there
  Dreading great Zeus's daughter mighty-souled."

  In subtlety so he spake, his soul untamed
  By pain; for a brave man's part is to endure
  To the uttermost. And of the Trojans some
  Believed him, others for a wily knave
  Held him, of whose mind was Laocoon.
  Wisely he spake: "A deadly fraud is this,"
  He said, "devised by the Achaean chiefs!"
  And cried to all straightway to burn the Horse,
  And know if aught within its timbers lurked.

  Yea, and they had obeyed him, and had 'scaped
  Destruction; but Athena, fiercely wroth
  With him, the Trojans, and their city, shook
  Earth's deep foundations 'neath Laocoon's feet.
  Straight terror fell on him, and trembling bowed
  The knees of the presumptuous: round his head
  Horror of darkness poured; a sharp pang thrilled
  His eyelids; swam his eyes beneath his brows;
  His eyeballs, stabbed with bitter anguish, throbbed
  Even from the roots, and rolled in frenzy of pain.
  Clear through his brain the bitter torment pierced
  Even to the filmy inner veil thereof;
  Now bloodshot were his eyes, now ghastly green;
  Anon with rheum they ran, as pours a stream
  Down from a rugged crag, with thawing snow
  Made turbid. As a man distraught he seemed:
  All things he saw showed double, and he groaned
  Fearfully; yet he ceased not to exhort
  The men of Troy, and recked not of his pain.
  Then did the Goddess strike him utterly blind.
  Stared his fixed eyeballs white from pits of blood;
  And all folk groaned for pity of their friend,
  And dread of the Prey-giver, lest he had sinned
  In folly against her, and his mind was thus
  Warped to destruction yea, lest on themselves
  Like judgment should be visited, to avenge
  The outrage done to hapless Sinon's flesh,
  Whereby they hoped to wring the truth from him.
  So led they him in friendly wise to Troy,
  Pitying him at the last. Then gathered all,
  And o'er that huge Horse hastily cast a rope,
  And made it fast above; for under its feet
  Smooth wooden rollers had Epeius laid,
  That, dragged by Trojan hands, it might glide on
  Into their fortress. One and all they haled
  With multitudinous tug and strain, as when
  Down to the sea young men sore-labouring drag
  A ship; hard-crushed the stubborn rollers groan,
  As, sliding with weird shrieks, the keel descends
  Into the sea-surge; so that host with toil
  Dragged up unto their city their own doom,
  Epeius' work. With great festoons of flowers
  They hung it, and their own heads did they wreathe,
  While answering each other pealed the flutes.
  Grimly Enyo laughed, seeing the end
  Of that dire war; Hera rejoiced on high;
  Glad was Athena. When the Trojans came
  Unto their city, brake they down the walls,
  Their city's coronal, that the Horse of Death
  Might be led in. Troy's daughters greeted it
  With shouts of salutation; marvelling all
  Gazed at the mighty work where lurked their doom.

  But still Laocoon ceased not to exhort
  His countrymen to burn the Horse with fire:
  They would not hear, for dread of the Gods' wrath.
  But then a yet more hideous punishment
  Athena visited on his hapless sons.
  A cave there was, beneath a rugged cliff
  Exceeding high, unscalable, wherein
  Dwelt fearful monsters of the deadly brood
  Of Typhon, in the rock-clefts of the isle
  Calydna that looks Troyward from the sea.
  Thence stirred she up the strength of serpents twain,
  And summoned them to Troy. By her uproused
  They shook the island as with earthquake: roared
  The sea; the waves disparted as they came.
  Onward they swept with fearful-flickering tongues:
  Shuddered the very monsters of the deep:
  Xanthus' and Simois' daughters moaned aloud,
  The River-nymphs: the Cyprian Queen looked down
  In anguish from Olympus. Swiftly they came
  Whither the Goddess sped them: with grim jaws
  Whetting their deadly fangs, on his hapless sons
  Sprang they. All Trojans panic-stricken fled,
  Seeing those fearsome dragons in their town.
  No man, though ne'er so dauntless theretofore,
  Dared tarry; ghastly dread laid hold on all
  Shrinking in horror from the monsters. Screamed
  The women; yea, the mother forgat her child,
  Fear-frenzied as she fled: all Troy became
  One shriek of fleers, one huddle of jostling limbs:
  The streets were choked with cowering fugitives.
  Alone was left Laocoon with his sons,
  For death's doom and the Goddess chained their feet.
  Then, even as from destruction shrank the lads,
  Those deadly fangs had seized and ravined up
  The twain, outstretching to their sightless sire
  Agonized hands: no power to help had he.
  Trojans far off looked on from every side
  Weeping, all dazed. And, having now fulfilled
  Upon the Trojans Pallas' awful hest,
  Those monsters vanished 'neath the earth; and still
  Stands their memorial, where into the fane
  They entered of Apollo in Pergamus
  The hallowed. Therebefore the sons of Troy
  Gathered, and reared a cenotaph for those
  Who miserably had perished. Over it
  Their father from his blind eyes rained the tears:
  Over the empty tomb their mother shrieked,
  Boding the while yet worse things, wailing o'er
  The ruin wrought by folly of her lord,
  Dreading the anger of the Blessed Ones.
  As when around her void nest in a brake
  In sorest anguish moans the nightingale
  Whose fledglings, ere they learned her plaintive song,
  A hideous serpent's fangs have done to death,
  And left the mother anguish, endless woe,
  And bootless crying round her desolate home;
  So groaned she for her children's wretched death,
  So moaned she o'er the void tomb; and her pangs
  Were sharpened by her lord's plight stricken blind.

  While she for children and for husband moaned—
  These slain, he of the sun's light portionless—
  The Trojans to the Immortals sacrificed,
  Pouring the wine. Their hearts beat high with hope
  To escape the weary stress of woeful war.
  Howbeit the victims burned not, and the flames
  Died out, as though 'neath heavy-hissing rain;
  And writhed the smoke-wreaths blood-red, and the thighs
  Quivering from crumbling altars fell to earth.
  Drink-offerings turned to blood, Gods' statues wept,
  And temple-walls dripped gore: along them rolled
  Echoes of groaning out of depths unseen;
  And all the long walls shuddered: from the towers
  Came quick sharp sounds like cries of men in pain;
  And, weirdly shrieking, of themselves slid back
  The gate-bolts. Screaming "Desolation!" wailed
  The birds of night. Above that God-built burg
  A mist palled every star; and yet no cloud
  Was in the flashing heavens. By Phoebus' fane
  Withered the bays that erst were lush and green.
  Wolves and foul-feeding jackals came and howled
  Within the gates. Ay, other signs untold
  Appeared, portending woe to Dardanus' sons
  And Troy: yet no fear touched the Trojans' hearts
  Who saw all through the town those portents dire:
  Fate crazed them all, that midst their revelling
  Slain by their foes they might fill up their doom.

  One heart was steadfast, and one soul clear-eyed,
  Cassandra. Never her words were unfulfilled;
  Yet was their utter truth, by Fate's decree,
  Ever as idle wind in the hearers' ears,
  That no bar to Troy's ruin might be set.
  She saw those evil portents all through Troy
  Conspiring to one end; loud rang her cry,
  As roars a lioness that mid the brakes
  A hunter has stabbed or shot, whereat her heart
  Maddens, and down the long hills rolls her roar,
  And her might waxes tenfold; so with heart
  Aflame with prophecy came she forth her bower.
  Over her snowy shoulders tossed her hair
  Streaming far down, and wildly blazed her eyes.
  Her neck writhed, like a sapling in the wind
  Shaken, as moaned and shrieked that noble maid:
  "O wretches! into the Land of Darkness now
  We are passing; for all round us full of fire
  And blood and dismal moan the city is.
  Everywhere portents of calamity
  Gods show: destruction yawns before your feet.
  Fools! ye know not your doom: still ye rejoice
  With one consent in madness, who to Troy
  Have brought the Argive Horse where ruin lurks!
  Oh, ye believe not me, though ne'er so loud
  I cry! The Erinyes and the ruthless Fates,
  For Helen's spousals madly wroth, through Troy
  Dart on wild wings. And ye, ye are banqueting there
  In your last feast, on meats befouled with gore,
  When now your feet are on the Path of Ghosts!"

  Then cried a scoffing voice an ominous word:
  "Why doth a raving tongue of evil speech,
  Daughter of Priam, make thy lips to cry
  Words empty as wind? No maiden modesty
  With purity veils thee: thou art compassed round
  With ruinous madness; therefore all men scorn
  Thee, babbler! Hence, thine evil bodings speak
  To the Argives and thyself! For thee doth wait
  Anguish and shame yet bitterer than befell
  Presumptuous Laocoon. Shame it were
  In folly to destroy the Immortals' gift."

  So scoffed a Trojan: others in like sort
  Cried shame on her, and said she spake but lies,
  Saying that ruin and Fate's heavy stroke
  Were hard at hand. They knew not their own doom,
  And mocked, and thrust her back from that huge Horse
  For fain she was to smite its beams apart,
  Or burn with ravening fire. She snatched a brand
  Of blazing pine-wood from the hearth and ran
  In fury: in the other hand she bare
  A two-edged halberd: on that Horse of Doom
  She rushed, to cause the Trojans to behold
  With their own eyes the ambush hidden there.
  But straightway from her hands they plucked and flung
  Afar the fire and steel, and careless turned
  To the feast; for darkened o'er them their last night.
  Within the horse the Argives joyed to hear
  The uproar of Troy's feasters setting at naught
  Cassandra, but they marvelled that she knew
  So well the Achaeans' purpose and device.

  As mid the hills a furious pantheress,
  Which from the steading hounds and shepherd-folk
  Drive with fierce rush, with savage heart turns back
  Even in departing, galled albeit by darts:
  So from the great Horse fled she, anguish-racked
  For Troy, for all the ruin she foreknew.