Publius Vergilius Maro - Sack of Troy (Aeneid 2) lyrics

Aeneid – Sack of Troy Within sight of Troy lies a famous island, Tenedos, prosperous while Priam's kingdom stood, Now just a bay with poor anchorage for ships. The Greeks sailed there and hid on the desolate shore; They were gone, we thought, sailed off to Mycenae. And so all of Troy shook off its long sorrow. The gates were opened. It was a joy to visit The Doric camp, the abandoned beachhead, The deserted sites. Here the Dolopians Pitched their tents, here fierce Achilles, Here lay the ships, here were the battle-lines. Some of us gaped at the virgin Minerva's Fatal gift, amazed at the ma**ive Horse. Thymoetes wanted it dragged inside the walls And installed in the citadel. Treason perhaps, Or Troy's doom was already in motion. But Capys, and other wiser heads, urged us To either pitch this insidious Greek gift Into the sea, or burn it on the spot, or else Pierce and probe the belly's hidden hollows. The crowd took sides, uncertain what to do. And now Laocoon comes running down From the citadel at the head of a great throng And in his burning haste he cries from afar: 'Are you out of your minds, you poor fools? Are you so easily convinced that the enemy Has sailed away? Do you honestly think That any Greek gift comes without treachery? What is Ulysses known for? Either this lumber Is hiding Achaeans inside, or it has been built As an engine of war to attack our walls, To spy on our homes and come down on the city From above. Or some other evil lurks inside. Do not trust the Horse, Trojans! Whatever it is, I fear the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.” With that, he hurled his spear with enormous force Into the vaulting belly of the beast. The shaft Stood quivering, and the hollow insides Reverberated with a cavernous moan. If we had not been on the gods wrong side If we had been thinking right, Laocoon Would have driven us to hack our way into The Greek lair and Troy would till stand, And you, high rock of Priam, would remain. But at that moment a band of Dardan shepherds Came up with loud shouts dragging to the king A prisoner with his hands bound behind his back. This man had deliberately gotten himself captured With one purpose in mind, to open Troy to the Greeks. Ready to either work his deceits or face certain d**h. The Trojan youths streamed in from all sides To see the captive and jeer at him. Hear now The treachery of the Greeks and from one offense Learn all their evil.
 The man stood in full sight Of the crowd, dismayed unarmed and glancing Around at the ranks of men he cried out: “Ah, what land what sea can receive me now, What will be my final wretched fare? I have no place among the Greeks And the Trojans are clamoring for my blood.” At this our mood changed and we prodded him To tell us what be meant. Who were his people And what was he counting on to save him now that he was our prisoner? Finally He stopped trembling and began to speak: Come what may King I will tell you all And not deny, first that I am a Danaan. Fortune may have damned Sinon to misery But she will not make him a liar as well. You may have heard the name Palamedes Belus' glorious son, whom the Greek Condemned to d**h, under false charges, Because he opposed the war. He was innocent. Now they mourn him, now that he is dead. He was my kinsman, and my father, A poor man, sent me here in his company When I was just a boy. While Palamedes Was still in good standing, still thrived in council, I too had somewhat of a name, some honor. But when through the malice of cunning Ulysses (Everyone knows this) he pa**ed from this world, I was a ruined man and dragged on my life In darkness and grief, eating my heart out Over the fate of my innocent friend. Nor was I silent, but I raved That if I ever had the chance, ever returned As victor to Argos, I would have my vengeance. My words aroused resentment, and my life Was now infected. Ulysses made it his mission To terrorize me with countless new charges, Sowing rumors in everyone's ears, searching In his guilt for weapons against me. In the end He found Fortune's tool, Calchas the soothsayer- But you don't want to hear all this. And why Should I stall? If you paint all Greeks With the same stripe, if "he's Achaean" Is all you need to hear, take your vengeance At once. This is what the Ithacan would want, And what Atreus' sons would pay dearly for.” Now indeed we burned to know more, Strangers as we were to infamy so great And to Greek guile. Trembling, he went on: 'Weary with the long war, the Greeks Often wanted to quit Troy and sail home. If only they had! But stormy weather And rough seas would scare them from leaving. And when they'd hammered together The maple horse, the sky rumbled even more. Anxious, we sent Eurypylus to consult The oracle of Phoebus Apollo, And he brought back these dismal words: You placated the winds with a virgin's blood To come, O Danaans, to the shores of Troy. Your return must be won with an Argive life. When the god's words reached the army's ears Everyone was dazed, and an icy fear Seeped into their bones. Which man was doomed, Whom would Apollo claim? The Ithacan Dragged Calchas out into the roaring crowd And demanded to know what heaven portended. Many divined that this despicable ploy Was aimed at me and saw what was coming. Five days and five more the seer sat in his hut, Silent, refusing to sentence anyone to d**h. Finally, forced by the Ithacan's cries, Calchas broke his silence and, as agreed, Doomed me to the altar. Everyone approved, And the ruin each had feared for himself They bore well when it devolved upon one. “And now the dark day dawned. The salted grain, The sacral headbands were being prepared For my ritual slaughter, when, I confess, I broke my bonds and snatched myself from d**h. I skulked all night in a muddy swamp, Hidden in the sedge, holding my breath Until they sailed. Now I have no hope Of seeing my homeland, my sweet children, The father I long for. And the Greeks May make them pay for my escape, poor things, And by their d**h expiate my sin. And so I pray, by whatever powers above Still witness Truth, and by any Faith we men still have uncorrupted, show mercy to a suffering soul, guiltless and wronged.” We spared him for his tears and pitied him Of our own accord. Priam himself ordered His shackles removed and spoke to him kindly: “Whoever you are, take no further thought Of the Greeks. You are one of us now. But tell me, and speak the whole truth: Why did they erect this monstrous horse? Who devised it, and to what purpose? Is it a religious offering or an engine of war?” Thus Priam. And Sinon, the consummate liar, Lifting his unchained hands to the stars: “Eternal fires of heaven, I summon you And your inviolable Power to witness, And you altars and nefarious blades Which I escaped, and you consecrated fillets Which as victim I wore: it is just for me To break the sacred oaths of the Greeks, Just to abhor those men, and to lay bare to the sky Every secret they would conceal. I am bound By no law of my country. But you, Troy, Stand by your word and keep your faith, If what I say proves to be your salvation. From the war's beginning, Pallas Athena Was the Greeks' entire hope. But when Wicked Diomedes and Ulysses, With his criminal mind, entered Her high temple, murdered the guards, And stole the fateful Palladium, Daring to handle her virgin fillets With bloodstained fingers-then The Danaans' fortunes began to falter, Their strength was broken, and the goddess Turned her back on them. Tritonia Gave us clear portents of her displeasure. As soon as her statue was set up in camp, Flames glittered from her upturned eyes, Sweat poured down her limbs, and three times She flashed up from the ground, miraculous, Holding her shield and quivering spear. Calchas at once began to prophesy: 'The Greeks must attempt a retreat by sea. Troy cannot be taken by Argive weapons Until they seek new omens in Argos And return the godhead carried away In curved keels over open water.' “They are sailing over to Mycenae now And when they have recruited soldiers and gods They will recross the water all unforeseen. So Calchas sifted the omen and counseled the Greeks To erect this Horse in expiation Of the Palladium's theft and the godhead wronged. And he ordered them to build its oaken bulk Up to the sky, so it could not be brought Through the city's gates or walls and there protect The Troian people under the old religion. For if you lay violent hands Upon this offering to Minerva, Destruction will fall- may the gods turn this omen Against the Greek - upon Priam's realm. But if your hands bring it into the city, Asia will wage war upon Pelops walls And this fate awaits our children's children.” And so through Sinon's treacherous art His story was believed and we were taken With cunning captured with forced tears We whom neither great Diomedes Nor Achilles of Larissa could subdue Nor ten year of war, nor a thousand ships. 581-652 – d**h of Priam I saw with my own eyes Neoptolemus, lusting for slaughter, And Atreus' two sons, there on the threshold. I saw Hecuba, with her hundred daughters, And Priam, polluting with his blood The very altars he had consecrated himself. Those fifty bedchambers, that promise of offspring, The doorposts proud with barbarian gold- All lost. The Greeks held what the fire spared. 555 And what, you may ask, was Priam's fate? When he saw that his city had fallen, The doors of his palace shattered, And the enemy at his very hearth, The old man slung his long-unused armor Over his trembling shoulders, strapped on His useless sword, and, bound to die, Charged the enemy.
 In the middle of the palace, Under heaven's naked wheel, an enormous altar Lay beneath the branches of an ancient laurel Whose shade embraced the household gods. In this sacred place Hecuba and her daughters Huddled like doves driven by a black storm, Clutching the gods' images. But when she saw Priam himself clad in the armor of his youth, She cried out: 'My poor husband, What insanity has driven you To take up these weapons? Where Are you rushing to? The hour is past For defense like this, even if my Hector Were still here. Come to this altar, please. It will protect us all, or you will die with us.” Hecuba said these things, took the aged man In her arms, and placed him on the holy seat. And now Polites, one of Priam's sons, Pursued by Pyrrhus, came running Through the colonnades, wounded. When he reached the vast atrium Pyrrhus was breathing down his neck, And yet he slipped away to face his parents' eyes. There he fell, Pyrrhus' spear in his back, And poured out his life in a pool of blood. Then Priam, in d**h's grip as he was, Did not hold back his anger or spare his voice. “For this heinous crime,” he cried, “this outrage, May the gods in heaven-if there is in heaven Any spirit that cares for what is just and good- May the gods treat you as you deserve For making me watch my own son's murder And defiling with d**h a father's face. Not so was Achilles, whom you falsely claim To be your father, in the face of Priam his foe, But honored a suppliant's rights and trust, And allowed the bloodless corpse of Hector Burial, and sent me back to my own realm.” And the old man threw his feeble spear. Its tip Clanged against the bronze of Pyrrhus' shield And dangled uselessly from its boss. And Pyrrhus: “Then you can take this news to my father, The son of Peleus. Be sure to tell him About my sad behavior and how degenerate His son has become. Now die.” So saying, He dragged Priam, trembling and slipping In his son's blood, up to the altar. Winding His left hand in the old man's hair, with his right He lifted his flashing sword and buried it Up to its hilt in his side. So ended Priam, Such was his fated doom, as Troy burned Before his eyes and Pergamum fell. Once the lord of so many peoples, The sovereign of Asia, he lies now A huge trunk upon the shore, head severed From his neck, a corpse without a name.