"'Could Troy be saved by mortal prowess, mine, Yea, mine had saved her.

To thy guardian care She doth her Gods and ministries consign.
Take them, thy future destinies to share, And seek for them another home elsewhere, That mighty city, which for thee and thine O'er traversed ocean shall the Fates prepare.' He spake, and quickly snatched from Vesta's shrine The deathless fire and wreaths and effigy divine.
XL.

"Meanwhile a mingled murmur through the street Rolls onward,--wails of anguish, shrieks of fear, And though my father's mansion stood secrete, Embowered in foliage, nearer and more near Peals the dire clang of arms, and loud and clear, Borne on fierce echoes that in tumult blend, War-shout and wail come thickening on the ear.
I start from sleep, the parapet ascend, And from the sloping roof with eager ears attend.
XLI.

"Like as a fire, when Southern gusts are rude, Falls on the standing harvest of the plain, Or torrent, hurtling with a mountain flood, Whelms field and oxens' toil and smiling grain, And rolls whole forests headlong to the main, While, weetless of the noise, on neighbouring height, Tranced in mute wonder, stands the listening swain, Then, then I see that Hector's words were right, And all the Danaan wiles are naked to the light.
XLII.

"And now, Deiphobus, thy halls of pride, Bowed by the flames, come ruining through the air; Next burn Ucalegon's, and far and wide The broad Sigean reddens with the glare.
Then come the clamour and the trumpet's blare.
Madly I rush to arms; though vain the fight, Yet burns my soul, in fury and despair, To rally a handful and to hold the height: Sweet seems a warrior's death and danger a delight.
XLIII.