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“Trojans do not trust this horse. Whatever it may be, I fear the Greeks, Even when they bring us gifts.”
The terrible machine Passes the walls, filled full with armèd men. Around, the youths and the unwedded maids Sing sacred songs, rejoicing when they touch Their hands against the ropes. Onward it moves, And threatening glides into the city’s midst. Alas, my country! Ilium, home of gods!
“Ah, fly Oh goddess-born,” he said, “fly from these flames! The enemy holds the walls. Troy rushes down From her high pinnacle. Enough is done For Priam and our country.”
“Come then, dear father! On my shoulders I Will bear you, nor will think the task severe. Whatever lot awaits us, there shall be One danger and one safety for us both. Little Iulus be my companion; And at a distance let my wife observe Our footsteps.”
The shadowy image, of Creusa stand, Larger than life. Aghast I stood, with hair Erect: my voice clung to my throat. But she Thus spoke, and with these words allayed my pain:— “Sweet husband, what avails it to indulge This insane grief? These things do not occur Without divine consent.”
