The Fall of Troy [88]
Shouted: "Flinch not, ye Argives, from the walls, Till Troy be taken, and sink down in flames!" And round these twain an awful measureless roar Rang, daylong as they fought: no breathing-space Came from the war to them whose spirits burned, These, to smite Ilium, those, to guard her safe.
But from Aeneas valiant-souled afar Fought Aias, speeding midst the men of Troy Winged death; for now his arrow straight through air Flew, now his deadly dart, and smote them down One after one: yet others cowered away Before his peerless prowess, and abode The fight no more, but fenceless left the wall
Then one, of all the Locrians mightiest, Fierce-souled Alcimedon, trusting in his prince And his own might and valour of his youth, All battle-eager on a ladder set Swift feet, to pave for friends a death-strewn path Into the town. Above his head he raised
The screening shield; up that dread path he went Hardening his heart from trembling, in his hand Now shook the threatening spear, now upward climbed ? Fast high in air he trod the perilous way. Now on the Trojans had disaster come, But, even as above the parapet His head rose, and for the first time and the last From her high rampart he looked down on Troy, Aeneas, who had marked, albeit afar, That bold assault, rushed on him, dashed on his head So huge a stone that the hero's mighty strength Shattered the ladder. Down from on high he rushed As arrow from the string: death followed him As whirling round he fell; with air was blent His lost life, ere he crashed to the stony ground. Strong spear, broad shield, in mid fall flew from his hands, And from his head the helm: his corslet came Alone with him to earth. The Locrian men Groaned, seeing their champion quelled by evil doom; For all his hair and all the stones around Were brain-bespattered: all his bones were crushed, And his once active limbs besprent with gore.
Then godlike Poeas' war-triumphant son Marked where Aeneas stormed along the wall In lion-like strength, and straightway shot a shaft Aimed at that glorious hero, neither missed The man: yet not through his unyielding targe To the fair flesh it won, being turned aside By Cytherea and the shield, but grazed The buckler lightly: yet not all in vain Fell earthward, but between the targe and helm Smote Medon: from the tower he fell, as falls A wild goat from a crag, the hunter's shaft Deep in its heart: so nerveless-flung he fell, And fled away from him the precious life. Wroth for his friend, a stone Aeneas hurled, And Philoctetes' stalwart comrade slew, Toxaechmes; for he shattered his head and crushed Helmet and skull-bones; and his noble heart Was stilled. Loud shouted princely Poeas' son: "Aeneas, thou, forsooth, dost deem thyself A mighty champion, fighting from a tower Whence craven women war with foes! Now if Thou be a man, come forth without the wall In battle-harness, and so learn to know In spear-craft and in bow-craft Poeas' son!"
So cried he; but Anchises' valiant seed, How fain soe'er, naught answered, for the stress Of desperate conflict round that wall and burg Ceaselessly raging: pause from fight was none: Yea, for long time no respite had there been For the war-weary from that endless toil.
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
But from Aeneas valiant-souled afar Fought Aias, speeding midst the men of Troy Winged death; for now his arrow straight through air Flew, now his deadly dart, and smote them down One after one: yet others cowered away Before his peerless prowess, and abode The fight no more, but fenceless left the wall
Then one, of all the Locrians mightiest, Fierce-souled Alcimedon, trusting in his prince And his own might and valour of his youth, All battle-eager on a ladder set Swift feet, to pave for friends a death-strewn path Into the town. Above his head he raised
The screening shield; up that dread path he went Hardening his heart from trembling, in his hand Now shook the threatening spear, now upward climbed ? Fast high in air he trod the perilous way. Now on the Trojans had disaster come, But, even as above the parapet His head rose, and for the first time and the last From her high rampart he looked down on Troy, Aeneas, who had marked, albeit afar, That bold assault, rushed on him, dashed on his head So huge a stone that the hero's mighty strength Shattered the ladder. Down from on high he rushed As arrow from the string: death followed him As whirling round he fell; with air was blent His lost life, ere he crashed to the stony ground. Strong spear, broad shield, in mid fall flew from his hands, And from his head the helm: his corslet came Alone with him to earth. The Locrian men Groaned, seeing their champion quelled by evil doom; For all his hair and all the stones around Were brain-bespattered: all his bones were crushed, And his once active limbs besprent with gore.
Then godlike Poeas' war-triumphant son Marked where Aeneas stormed along the wall In lion-like strength, and straightway shot a shaft Aimed at that glorious hero, neither missed The man: yet not through his unyielding targe To the fair flesh it won, being turned aside By Cytherea and the shield, but grazed The buckler lightly: yet not all in vain Fell earthward, but between the targe and helm Smote Medon: from the tower he fell, as falls A wild goat from a crag, the hunter's shaft Deep in its heart: so nerveless-flung he fell, And fled away from him the precious life. Wroth for his friend, a stone Aeneas hurled, And Philoctetes' stalwart comrade slew, Toxaechmes; for he shattered his head and crushed Helmet and skull-bones; and his noble heart Was stilled. Loud shouted princely Poeas' son: "Aeneas, thou, forsooth, dost deem thyself A mighty champion, fighting from a tower Whence craven women war with foes! Now if Thou be a man, come forth without the wall In battle-harness, and so learn to know In spear-craft and in bow-craft Poeas' son!"
So cried he; but Anchises' valiant seed, How fain soe'er, naught answered, for the stress Of desperate conflict round that wall and burg Ceaselessly raging: pause from fight was none: Yea, for long time no respite had there been For the war-weary from that endless toil.
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