“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.”
