[The Aeneid of Virgil by Virgil]@TWC D-Link book
The Aeneid of Virgil

BOOK TWO
11/38

"Then, all unknowing of Pelasgian art And crimes so huge, the story we demand, And falteringly the traitor plays his part.
'Oft, wearied by the war, the Danaans planned To leave--and oh! had they but left--the land.
As oft, to daunt them, in the act to fly, Storms lashed the deep, and Southern gales withstand, And louder still, when towered the horse on high With maple timbers, pealed the thunder through the sky.
XVI.

"'In doubt, we bade Eurypylus explore Apollo's oracle, and back he brought The dismal news: _With blood, a maiden's gore, Ye stilled the winds, when Trojan shores ye sought.
With blood again must your return be bought; An Argive victim doth the God demand._ Full fast the rumour 'mong the people wrought; Cold horror chills us, and aghast we stand; Whom doth Apollo claim, whose death the Fates demand?
XVII.

"'Then straight Ulysses, 'mid tumultuous cries, Drags Calchas forth, and bids the seer unfold The dark and doubtful meaning of the skies.
Many e'en then the schemer's crime foretold, And, silent, saw my destiny unrolled.
Ten days the seer, as shrinking to reply Or name a victim, did the doom withhold; Then, forced by false Ulysses' clamorous cry, Spake the concerted word, and sentenced me to die.
XVIII.

"'All praised the sentence, pleased that one alone Should suffer, glad that one poor wretch should bear The doom that each had dreaded for his own.
The fatal day was come; the priests prepare The salted meal, the fillets for my hair.
I fled, 'tis true, and saved my life by flight, Bursting my bonds in frenzy of despair, And hidden in a marish lay that night, Waiting till they should sail, if sail, perchance, they might.
XIX.

"'No hope have I my ancient fatherland, Or darling boys, or long-lost sire to see, Whom now perchance, the Danaans will demand, Poor souls! for vengeance, and their death decree, To purge my crime, in daring to be free.
O by the gods, who know the just and true, By faith unstained,--if any such there be,-- With mercy deign such miseries to view; Pity a soul that toils with evils all undue.' XX.


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