Then place the dire portent within the tower.
Caffandra cry'd, and curs'd the unhappy hour;
Foretold our fate; but, by the gods decree,
All heard, and none believ'd, the prophecy.
With branches we the fanes adorn, and waste
In jollity the day ordain'd to be the last.
Mean time the rapid heavens roll'd down the light,
And on the shaded ocean rush'd the night:
Our men fecure, nor guards nor centries held,
But eafy fleep their weary limbs compell'd.
The Grecians had embark'd their naval powers
From Tenedos, and fought our well-known fhores:
Safe under covert of the filent night,
And guided by th' imperial galley's light.
When Sinon, favour'd by the partial gods,
Unlock'd the horse, and op'd his dark abodes;
Reftor'd to vital air our hidden foes,
Who joyful from their long confinement rofe.
Tyfander bold, and Sthenelus their guide,
And dire Ulyffes, down the cable slide:
Then Thoas, Athamas, and Pyrrhus haste;
Nor was the Podalyrian hero last:
Nor injur'd Menelaus, nor the fam'd
Epeus, who the fatal engine fram'd.
A nameless crowd fucceed; their forces join
T' invade th' town, opprefs'd with fleep and wine.
Those few they find awake, first meet their fate,
Then to their fellows they unbar the gate.
"Twas in the dead of night, when fleep repairs
Our bodies worn with toils, our minds with cares,
When Hector's ghost before my fight appears:
A bloody fhroud he seem'd, and bath'd in tears.
Such as he was, when, by Pelides flain,
Theffalian courfers dragg'd him o'er the plain.
Swoln were his feet, as when the thongs were thrust
Through the bor'd holes, his body black with duft.
Unlike that Hector, who return'd from toils
Of war triumphant, in Æacian spoils:
Or him, who made the fainting Greeks retire,
And launch'd against their navy Phrygian fire.
His hair and beard ftood ftiffen'd with his gore;
And all the wounds, he for his country bore,
Now ftream'd afresh, and with new purple ran:
I wept to fee the vifionary man:
And, while my trance continu'd, thus began:
O light of Trojans, and support of Troy,
'Thy father's champion, and thy country's joy!
O, long expected by thy friends! from whence
Art thou fo late return'd for our defence?
Do we behold thee, weary'd as we are,
With length of labours, and with toils of war?
After fo many funerals of thy own,
Art thou reftor'd to thy declining town?
But fay, what wounds are these? What new difgrace Deforms the manly features of thy face?
To this the spectre no reply did frame;
But anfwer'd to the cause for which he came:
And, groaning from the bottom of his breaft,
This warning, in thefe mournful words, exprefs'd:
O goddess-born! escape, by timely flight,
The flames and horrors of this fatal night.
The foes, already, have poffefs'd the wall,
Troy nods from high, and totters to her fall.
Enough is paid to Priam's royal name,
More than enough to duty and to fame.
If by a mortal hand my father's throne
Could be defended, 'twas by mine alone:
Now Troy to thee commends her future ftate,
And gives her gods companions of thy fate:
From their affistance happier walls expect,
Which, wandering long, at last thou shalt erect.
He faid, and brought me, from their bleft abodes,
The venerable statues of the gods:
With ancient Vefta from the facred choir
The wreaths and relics of th' immortal fire,
Now peals of shouts come thundering from afar, Cries, threats, and loud laments, and mingled war! The noise approaches, though our palace stood Aloof from streets, encompass'd with a wood. Louder, and yet more loud, I hear th' alarms Of human cries diftinct, and clashing arms! Fear broke my flumbers: I no longer stay, But mount the terrass, thence the town survey: And hearken what the fruitful founds convey! 405. Thus when a flood of fire by wind is born, Crackling it rolls, and mows the ftanding corn: Or deluges, defcending on the plains, Sweep o'er the yellow year, deftroy the pains Of labouring oxen, and the peafant's gains:
Unroot the oreft oaks, and bear away
Flocks, folds, and trees, an undistinguish'd prey!
The fhepherd climbs the cliff, and fees, from far,
The wafteful ravage of the watery war.
Then Hector's faith was manifeftly clear'd;
And Grecian frauds in open light appear'd!
The palace of Deïphobus afcends
In fmoaky flames, and catches on his friends.
Ucalegon burns next; the feas are bright
With fplendor not their own; and shine with Trojan light.
New clamours and new clangors now arise,
The found of trumpets mix'd with fighting cries!
With frenzy feiz'd, I run to meet th' alarms,
Refolv'd on death, refolv'd to die in arms!
But first to gather friends, with them to oppofe, 425
If fortune favour'd, and repel the foes.
Spurr'd by my courage, by my country fir'd;
With fenfe of honour, and revenge infpir'd!
Pantheus, Apollo's priest, a facred name,
Had 'fcap'd the Grecian fwords, and pafs'd the flame;
With relics loaden, to my doors he fled,
And, by the hand, his tender grandfon led.
What hope, O Pantheus! whither can we run?
Where make a stand? and what may yet be done?
Scarce had I faid, when Pantheus, with a groan, 435
Troy is no more, and Ilium was a town!
The fatal day, th' appointed hour, is come,
When wrathful Jove's irrevocable doom
Transfers the Trojan ftate to Grecian hands.
The fire confumes the town, the foe commands! 440 And armed hofts, an unexpected force,
Break from the bowels of the fatal horfe!
Within the gates proud Sinon throws about
The flames, and foes for entrance press without.
With thousand others, whom I fear to name,
More than from Argos or Mycena came.
To several pofts their parties they divide;
Some block the narrow ftreets, fome fcour the wide.
The bold they kill, th' unwary they furprize;
Who fights finds death, and death finds him who flies.
The warders of the gate but fcarce maintain
Th' unequal combat, and refift in vain.
I heard; and heaven, that well-bom fouls infpires,
Prompts me, through lifted fwords and rifing fires,
To run, where clashing arms and clamour calls, 455
And rush undaunted to defend the walls!
Ripheus and Iphitus by my fide engage,
For valour one renown'd, and one for age.
Dymas and Hypanis by moonlight knew
My motions and my mien, and to my party drew; 460
With young Chorobus, who by love was led
To win renown, and fair Caffandra's bed;
And lately brought his troops to Priam's aid:
Forewarn'd in vain by the prophetic maid.
Whom, when I faw, refolv'd in arms to fall,
And that one spirit animated all;
Brave fouls, faid I, but brave, alas! in vain:
Come, finish what our cruel fates ordain,
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