Publius Vergilius Maro - Annotaeneid lyrics

Book II, Lines 1-49 All faces now were fixed on him in silence. Father Aeneas spoke from his high couch: "Must I renew a grief beyond description, Telling how the greeks destroyed the power of Troy, That tear-stained kingdom—since I saw the worst, And played a leading role? Telling the story, A Myrmidon, a Dolopian, a soldier Of cruel Ulysses would shed tears. The moist night Falls to its end, the setting stars urge sleep. But if you are so pa**ionate to hear— Briefly—of the d**h agony of Troy, I will begin, although my heart shrinks back From memory. The years of war had broken The Greek kings; destiny had pushed them back. They built a mountainous horse, with woven ribs Of fir—Athena's genius aided them. 'An offering for a safe voyage home!' The news spread. They picked the bravest men. With stealth they shut them Into the darkness of the flanks: an armed squad Filling the vast, deep cavern of the belly. Tenedos shows offshore, the famous island— Wealthy while Priam's empire still existed, Now just an inlet with its treacherous mooring. They sailed there. On the lonely beach they lurked. We thought they'd made off windward to Mycenae. The whole of Troy broke free of its long mourning. We poured out through the open gates, delighted To tour the Greek camp on the empty shore. Achilles' tent was here, there the Dolopians. The fleet moored there, here was the battleground. Some ogled the huge horse, gift of the virgin Minerva for our ruin. Thymoetes Was the first to want it taken to our stronghold— His own guile or the fate of Troy inspired him. Capys and those who shared his good sense urged us To hurl the treacherous present of the Greeks Into the sea or set a fire beneath it, Or drill into the secrets of its womb. The fickle mob took opposite positions. Now leading his attendants in a crowd, Laocoön rushed raging from the town's heights. 'Poor Trojans, have you lost your minds?' he called. 'You think they're gone? With no deceit, the Greeks Give presents? Don't you know Ulysses better? The Greeks are hiding in this wooden thing, Or else this is a siege machine they've built For spying—or alighting—on our homes, Or some such trick. Don't trust the horse, my people. Even when they bring gifts, I fear the Greeks.'