Book XII

When round the walls of Troy the Danaan hostHad borne much travail, and yet the end was not,By Calchas then assembled were the chiefs;For his heart was instructed by the hestsOf Phoebus, by the flights of birds, the stars,And all the signs that speak to men the willOf 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 heTarried long time hard by that rift, but sheAbode 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 wayTo escape their grievous travail, as they soughtTo find a remedy, till Laertes' sonDiscerned it of his wisdom, and he spake:"Friend, in high honour held of the Heavenly Ones,If doomed it be indeed that Priam's burgBy guile must fall before the war-worn Greeks,A great Horse let us fashion, in the whichOur mightiest shall take ambush. Let the hostBurn all their tents, and sail from hence awayTo Tenedos; so the Trojans, from their towersGazing, 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 fainSafe to win home, made this their offeringFor safe return, an image to appeaseThe wrath of Pallas for her image stolenFrom 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 allExtolled him Calchas, that such marvellous guileHe put into the Achaeans' hearts, to beFor them assurance of triumph, but for TroyRuin; 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 firmamentZeus' thunder and lightning! See, where birds to rightDart past, and scream with long-resounding cry!Go to, no more in endless leaguer of TroyLinger we. Hard necessity fills the foeWith desperate courage that makes cowards brave;For then are men most dangerous, when they stakeTheir lives in utter recklessness of death,As battle now the aweless sons of TroyAll 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 beseemsTrue 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 mightAvailed 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 farOf Argives, for Athena taught his lore."

Then all their mightiest men gave ear to himSave twain, fierce-hearted NeoptolemusAnd Philoctetes mighty-souled; for theseStill were insatiate for the bitter fray,Still longed for turmoil of the fight. They badeTheir own folk bear against that giant wallWhat 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 shookThe earth beneath their feet, and all the airShuddered, as down before those heroes twainHe hurled his thunderbolt: wide echoes crashedThrough all Dardania. Unto fear straightwayTurned were their bold hearts: they forgat their might,And Calchas' counsels grudgingly obeyed.So with the Argives came they to the shipsIn reverence for the seer who spake from ZeusOr Phoebus, and they obeyed him utterly.

What time round splendour-kindled heavens the starsFrom east to west far-flashing wheel, and whenMan doth forget his toil, in that still hourAthena left the high mansions of the Blest,Clothed her in shape of a maiden tender-fleshed,And came to ships and host. Over the headOf brave Epeius stood she in his dream,And bade him build a Horse of tree: herselfWould labour in his labour, and herselfStand by his side, to the work enkindling him.Hearing the Goddess' word, with a glad laughLeapt he from careless sleep: right well he knewThe Immortal One celestial. Now his heartCould hold no thought beside; his mind was fixedUpon the wondrous work, and through his soulMarched marshalled each device of craftsmanship.

When rose the dawn, and thrust back kindly nightTo Erebus, and through the firmament streamedGlad glory, then Epeius told his dreamTo eager Argives--all he saw and heard;And hearkening joyed they with exceeding joy.Straightway to tall-tressed Ida's leafy gladesThe sons of Atreus sent swift messengers.These laid the axe unto the forest-pines,And hewed the great trees: to their smiting rangThe echoing glens. On those far-stretching hillsAll bare of undergrowth the high peaks rose:Open their glades were, not, as in time past,Haunted of beasts: there dry the tree-trunks roseWooing the winds. Even these the Achaeans hewedWith axes, and in haste they bare them downFrom those shagged mountain heights to Hellespont's shores.Strained with a strenuous spirit at the workYoung men and mules; and all the people toiledEach at his task obeying Epeius's hest.For with the keen steel some were hewing beams,Some measuring planks, and some with axes loppedBranches away from trunks as yet unsawn:Each wrought his several work. Epeius firstFashioned the feet of that great Horse of Wood:The belly next he shaped, and over thisMoulded the back and the great loins behind,The throat in front, and ridged the towering neckWith waving mane: the crested head he wrought,The streaming tail, the ears, the lucent eyes--All that of lifelike horses have. So grewLike 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 hostOf Argos, marvelling how the wood expressedMettle, and speed of foot--yea, seemed to neigh.Godlike Epeius then uplifted handsTo 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 menWhich saw, or heard its fame in days to be.

But while the Danaans o'er Epeius' workJoyed, and their routed foes within the wallsTarried, and shrank from death and pitiless doom,Then, when imperious Zeus far from the GodsHad gone to Ocean's streams and Tethys' caves,Strife rose between the Immortals: heart with heartWas set at variance. Riding on the blastsOf winds, from heaven to earth they swooped: the airCrashed round them. Lighting down by Xanthus' streamArrayed they stood against each other, theseFor 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 destroyThe Horse of Guile and all the ships, and thoseFair Ilium. But all-contriving FateHeld them therefrom, and turned their hearts to strifeAgainst each other. Ares to the frayRose first, and on Athena rushed. ThereatFell each on other: clashed around their limbsThe golden arms celestial as they charged.Round them the wide sea thundered, the dark earthQuaked 'neath immortal feet. Rang from them allFar-pealing battle-shouts; that awful cryRolled up to the broad-arching heaven, and downEven to Hades' fathomless abyss:Trembled the Titans there in depths of gloom.Ida's long ridges sighed, sobbed clamorous streamsOf ever-flowing rivers, groaned ravinesFar-furrowed, Argive ships, and Priam's towers.Yet men feared not, for naught they knew of allThat strife, by Heaven's decree. Then her high peaksThe Gods' hands wrenched from Ida's crest, and hurledAgainst each other: but like crumbling sandsShivered 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 heavenAscended, charioted upon the winds,The East, the North, the West-wind, and the South:For Iris rainbow-plumed led 'neath the yokeOf his eternal ear that stormy team,The ear which Time the immortal framed for himOf adamant with never-wearying hands.So came he to Olympus' giant ridge.His wrath shook all the firmament, as crashedFrom east to west his thunders; lightnings gleamed,As thick and fast his thunderbolts poured to earth,And flamed the limitless welkin. Terror fellUpon the hearts of those Immortals: quakedThe limbs of all--ay, deathless though they were!Then Themis, trembling for them, swift as thoughtLeapt down through clouds, and came with speed to them--For in the strife she only had no partAnd stood between the fighters, and she cried:"Forbear the conflict! O, when Zeus is wroth,It ill beseems that everlasting GodsShould 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 hurlUpon you: sons nor daughters will he spare,But bury 'neath one ruin of shattered earthAll. 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 hostSpake 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 hourIs this for desperate emprise: now, with heartsHeroic, enter ye yon carven horse,So to attain the goal of this stern war.For better it is by stratagem and craftNow to destroy this city, for whose sakeHither we came, and still are sufferingMany afflictions far from our own land.Come then, and let your hearts be stout and strongFor he who in stress of fight hath turned to bayAnd snatched a desperate courage from despair,Oft, though the weaker, slays a mightier foe.For courage, which is all men's glory, makesThe heart great. Come then, set the ambush, yeWhich be our mightiest, and the rest shall goTo Tenedos' hallowed burg, and there abideUntil our foes have haled within their wallsUs with the Horse, as deeming that they bringA gift unto Tritonis. Some brave man,One whom the Trojans know not, yet we lack,To harden his heart as steel, and to abideNear by the Horse. Let that man bear in mindHeedfully 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-famedMade answer, Sinon, marked of destinyTo 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 fireLiving they thrust me; for mine heart is fixedNot 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-dayHigh courage to this man! He hath not beenHeretofore valiant. Heaven is kindling himTo be the Trojans' ruin, but to usSalvation. Now full soon, I trow, we reachThe 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 manSwift Argo, when of the heroes foremost IWould gladly have entered her, but PeliasThe 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 IFearlessly! 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 strifeInsatiate 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 himWho offered thus himself the first of allTo 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' mightAnd chivalrous speech be here! O, sure am IThat by thine hands the Argives shall destroyThe 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 feetBut happiness far off, and toil between:Therefore for men full easy is the pathTo 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 vouchsafedIn 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 fightThan flee from Troy, bowed 'neath a load of shame."

Then in his sire's celestial arms he arrayedHis shoulders; and with speed in harness sheathedStood the most mighty heroes, in whose healersWas dauntless spirit. Tell, ye Queens of Song,Now man by man the names of all that passedInto the cavernous Horse; for ye inspiredMy soul with all my song, long ere my cheekGrew dark with manhood's beard, what time I fedMy goodly sheep on Smyrna's pasture-lea,From Hermus thrice so far as one may hearA man's shout, by the fane of Artemis,In the Deliverer's Grove, upon a hillNeither exceeding low nor passing high.

Into that cavernous Horse Achilles' sonFirst 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 layThe secret of the opening of its doorsAnd of their closing: therefore last of allHe entered, and he drew the ladders upWhereby they clomb: then made he all secure,And set himself beside the bolt. So allIn silence sat 'twixt victory and death.

But the rest fired the tents, wherein erewhileThey 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 stayWith them a-shipboard, ordering their array:For men far better work the works of warWhen their kings oversee them; therefore theseAbode without, albeit mighty men.So came they swiftly unto Tenedos' shore,And dropped the anchor-stones, then leapt in hasteForth of the ships, and silent waited thereKeen-watching till the signal-torch should flash.

But nigh the foe were they in the Horse, and nowLooked 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 strandThe smoke upleaping yet through air: no moreSaw they the ships which brought to them from GreeceDestruction dire. With joy to the shore they ran,But armed them first, for fear still haunted themThen marked they that fair-carven Horse, and stoodMarvelling round, for a mighty work was there.A hapless-seeming man thereby they spied,Sinon; and this one, that one questioned himTouching the Danaans, as in a great ringThey compassed him, and with unangry wordsFirst questioned, then with terrible threatenings.Then tortured they that man of guileful soulLong time unceasing. Firm as a rock abodeThe unquivering limbs, the unconquerable will.His ears, his nose, at last they shore awayIn every wise tormenting him, untilHe should declare the truth, whither were goneThe Danaans in their ships, what thing the HorseConcealed within it. He had armed his mindWith resolution, and of outrage foulRecked 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 overseaWeary of tribulation of endless war.This horse by Calchas' counsel fashioned theyFor wise Athena, to propitiateHer stern wrath for that guardian image stol'nFrom Troy. And by Odysseus' prompting IWas marked for slaughter, to be sacrificedTo the sea-powers, beside the moaning waves,To win them safe return. But their intentI 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 thereDreading great Zeus's daughter mighty-souled."

In subtlety so he spake, his soul untamedBy pain; for a brave man's part is to endureTo the uttermost. And of the Trojans someBelieved him, others for a wily knaveHeld 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 'scapedDestruction; but Athena, fiercely wrothWith him, the Trojans, and their city, shookEarth's deep foundations 'neath Laocoon's feet.Straight terror fell on him, and trembling bowedThe knees of the presumptuous: round his headHorror of darkness poured; a sharp pang thrilledHis eyelids; swam his eyes beneath his brows;His eyeballs, stabbed with bitter anguish, throbbedEven from the roots, and rolled in frenzy of pain.Clear through his brain the bitter torment piercedEven to the filmy inner veil thereof;Now bloodshot were his eyes, now ghastly green;Anon with rheum they ran, as pours a streamDown from a rugged crag, with thawing snowMade turbid. As a man distraught he seemed:All things he saw showed double, and he groanedFearfully; yet he ceased not to exhortThe 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 sinnedIn folly against her, and his mind was thusWarped to destruction yea, lest on themselvesLike judgment should be visited, to avengeThe 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 feetSmooth wooden rollers had Epeius laid,That, dragged by Trojan hands, it might glide onInto their fortress. One and all they haledWith multitudinous tug and strain, as whenDown to the sea young men sore-labouring dragA ship; hard-crushed the stubborn rollers groan,As, sliding with weird shrieks, the keel descendsInto the sea-surge; so that host with toilDragged up unto their city their own doom,Epeius' work. With great festoons of flowersThey hung it, and their own heads did they wreathe,While answering each other pealed the flutes.Grimly Enyo laughed, seeing the endOf that dire war; Hera rejoiced on high;Glad was Athena. When the Trojans cameUnto their city, brake they down the walls,Their city's coronal, that the Horse of DeathMight be led in. Troy's daughters greeted itWith shouts of salutation; marvelling allGazed at the mighty work where lurked their doom.

But still Laocoon ceased not to exhortHis countrymen to burn the Horse with fire:They would not hear, for dread of the Gods' wrath.But then a yet more hideous punishmentAthena visited on his hapless sons.A cave there was, beneath a rugged cliffExceeding high, unscalable, whereinDwelt fearful monsters of the deadly broodOf Typhon, in the rock-clefts of the isleCalydna that looks Troyward from the sea.Thence stirred she up the strength of serpents twain,And summoned them to Troy. By her uprousedThey shook the island as with earthquake: roaredThe 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 downIn anguish from Olympus. Swiftly they cameWhither the Goddess sped them: with grim jawsWhetting their deadly fangs, on his hapless sonsSprang 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 allShrinking in horror from the monsters. ScreamedThe women; yea, the mother forgat her child,Fear-frenzied as she fled: all Troy becameOne 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 upThe twain, outstretching to their sightless sireAgonized hands: no power to help had he.Trojans far off looked on from every sideWeeping, all dazed. And, having now fulfilledUpon the Trojans Pallas' awful hest,Those monsters vanished 'neath the earth; and stillStands their memorial, where into the faneThey entered of Apollo in PergamusThe hallowed. Therebefore the sons of TroyGathered, and reared a cenotaph for thoseWho miserably had perished. Over itTheir father from his blind eyes rained the tears:Over the empty tomb their mother shrieked,Boding the while yet worse things, wailing o'erThe ruin wrought by folly of her lord,Dreading the anger of the Blessed Ones.As when around her void nest in a brakeIn sorest anguish moans the nightingaleWhose 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 pangsWere 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 hopeTo escape the weary stress of woeful war.Howbeit the victims burned not, and the flamesDied out, as though 'neath heavy-hissing rain;And writhed the smoke-wreaths blood-red, and the thighsQuivering from crumbling altars fell to earth.Drink-offerings turned to blood, Gods' statues wept,And temple-walls dripped gore: along them rolledEchoes of groaning out of depths unseen;And all the long walls shuddered: from the towersCame quick sharp sounds like cries of men in pain;And, weirdly shrieking, of themselves slid backThe gate-bolts. Screaming "Desolation!" wailedThe birds of night. Above that God-built burgA mist palled every star; and yet no cloudWas in the flashing heavens. By Phoebus' faneWithered the bays that erst were lush and green.Wolves and foul-feeding jackals came and howledWithin the gates. Ay, other signs untoldAppeared, portending woe to Dardanus' sonsAnd Troy: yet no fear touched the Trojans' heartsWho saw all through the town those portents dire:Fate crazed them all, that midst their revellingSlain 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 TroyConspiring to one end; loud rang her cry,As roars a lioness that mid the brakesA hunter has stabbed or shot, whereat her heartMaddens, and down the long hills rolls her roar,And her might waxes tenfold; so with heartAflame with prophecy came she forth her bower.Over her snowy shoulders tossed her hairStreaming far down, and wildly blazed her eyes.Her neck writhed, like a sapling in the windShaken, as moaned and shrieked that noble maid:"O wretches! into the Land of Darkness nowWe are passing; for all round us full of fireAnd blood and dismal moan the city is.Everywhere portents of calamityGods show: destruction yawns before your feet.Fools! ye know not your doom: still ye rejoiceWith one consent in madness, who to TroyHave brought the Argive Horse where ruin lurks!Oh, ye believe not me, though ne'er so loudI cry! The Erinyes and the ruthless Fates,For Helen's spousals madly wroth, through TroyDart on wild wings. And ye, ye are banqueting thereIn 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 cryWords empty as wind? No maiden modestyWith purity veils thee: thou art compassed roundWith ruinous madness; therefore all men scornThee, babbler! Hence, thine evil bodings speakTo the Argives and thyself! For thee doth waitAnguish and shame yet bitterer than befellPresumptuous Laocoon. Shame it wereIn folly to destroy the Immortals' gift."

So scoffed a Trojan: others in like sortCried shame on her, and said she spake but lies,Saying that ruin and Fate's heavy strokeWere hard at hand. They knew not their own doom,And mocked, and thrust her back from that huge HorseFor fain she was to smite its beams apart,Or burn with ravening fire. She snatched a brandOf blazing pine-wood from the hearth and ranIn fury: in the other hand she bareA two-edged halberd: on that Horse of DoomShe rushed, to cause the Trojans to beholdWith their own eyes the ambush hidden there.But straightway from her hands they plucked and flungAfar the fire and steel, and careless turnedTo the feast; for darkened o'er them their last night.Within the horse the Argives joyed to hearThe uproar of Troy's feasters setting at naughtCassandra, but they marvelled that she knewSo well the Achaeans' purpose and device.

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