Not Helen's face, nor Paris, was in fault; But by the G.o.ds was this destruction brought.

Now cast your eyes around, while I dissolve The mists and films that mortal eyes involve, Purge from your sight the dross, and make you see The shape of each avenging deity.

Enlighten'd thus, my just commands fulfil, Nor fear obedience to your mother's will.

Where yon disorder'd heap of ruin lies, Stones rent from stones; where clouds of dust arise- Amid that smother Neptune holds his place, Below the wall's foundation drives his mace, And heaves the building from the solid base.

Look where, in arms, imperial Juno stands Full in the Scaean gate, with loud commands, Urging on sh.o.r.e the tardy Grecian bands.

See! Pallas, of her snaky buckler proud, Bestrides the tow'r, refulgent thro' the cloud: See! Jove new courage to the foe supplies, And arms against the town the partial deities.

Haste hence, my son; this fruitless labor end: Haste, where your trembling spouse and sire attend: Haste; and a mother's care your pa.s.sage shall befriend.'

She said, and swiftly vanish'd from my sight, Obscure in clouds and gloomy shades of night.

I look'd, I listen'd; dreadful sounds I hear; And the dire forms of hostile G.o.ds appear.

Troy sunk in flames I saw (nor could prevent), And Ilium from its old foundations rent; Rent like a mountain ash, which dar'd the winds, And stood the st.u.r.dy strokes of lab'ring hinds.

About the roots the cruel ax resounds; The stumps are pierc'd with oft-repeated wounds: The war is felt on high; the nodding crown Now threats a fall, and throws the leafy honors down.

To their united force it yields, tho' late, And mourns with mortal groans th' approaching fate: The roots no more their upper load sustain; But down she falls, and spreads a ruin thro' the plain.

"Descending thence, I scape thro' foes and fire: Before the G.o.ddess, foes and flames retire.

Arriv'd at home, he, for whose only sake, Or most for his, such toils I undertake, The good Anchises, whom, by timely flight, I purpos'd to secure on Ida's height, Refus'd the journey, resolute to die And add his fun'rals to the fate of Troy, Rather than exile and old age sustain.

'Go you, whose blood runs warm in ev'ry vein.

Had Heav'n decreed that I should life enjoy, Heav'n had decreed to save unhappy Troy.

'T is, sure, enough, if not too much, for one, Twice to have seen our Ilium overthrown.

Make haste to save the poor remaining crew, And give this useless corpse a long adieu.

These weak old hands suffice to stop my breath; At least the pitying foes will aid my death, To take my spoils, and leave my body bare: As for my sepulcher, let Heav'n take care.

'T is long since I, for my celestial wife Loath'd by the G.o.ds, have dragg'd a ling'ring life; Since ev'ry hour and moment I expire, Blasted from heav'n by Jove's avenging fire.'

This oft repeated, he stood fix'd to die: Myself, my wife, my son, my family, Intreat, pray, beg, and raise a doleful cry- 'What, will he still persist, on death resolve, And in his ruin all his house involve!'

He still persists his reasons to maintain; Our pray'rs, our tears, our loud laments, are vain.

"Urg'd by despair, again I go to try The fate of arms, resolv'd in fight to die: 'What hope remains, but what my death must give?

Can I, without so dear a father, live?

You term it prudence, what I baseness call: Could such a word from such a parent fall?

If Fortune please, and so the G.o.ds ordain, That nothing should of ruin'd Troy remain, And you conspire with Fortune to be slain, The way to death is wide, th' approaches near: For soon relentless Pyrrhus will appear, Reeking with Priam's blood- the wretch who slew The son (inhuman) in the father's view, And then the sire himself to the dire altar drew.

O G.o.ddess mother, give me back to Fate; Your gift was undesir'd, and came too late!

Did you, for this, unhappy me convey Thro' foes and fires, to see my house a prey?

Shall I my father, wife, and son behold, Welt'ring in blood, each other's arms infold?

Haste! gird my sword, tho' spent and overcome: 'T is the last summons to receive our doom.

I hear thee, Fate; and I obey thy call!

Not unreveng'd the foe shall see my fall.

Restore me to the yet unfinish'd fight: My death is wanting to conclude the night.'

Arm'd once again, my glitt'ring sword I wield, While th' other hand sustains my weighty shield, And forth I rush to seek th' abandon'd field.

I went; but sad Creusa stopp'd my way, And cross the threshold in my pa.s.sage lay, Embrac'd my knees, and, when I would have gone, Shew'd me my feeble sire and tender son: 'If death be your design, at least,' said she, 'Take us along to share your destiny.

If any farther hopes in arms remain, This place, these pledges of your love, maintain.

To whom do you expose your father's life, Your son's, and mine, your now forgotten wife!'

While thus she fills the house with clam'rous cries, Our hearing is diverted by our eyes: For, while I held my son, in the short s.p.a.ce Betwixt our kisses and our last embrace; Strange to relate, from young Iulus' head A lambent flame arose, which gently spread Around his brows, and on his temples fed.

Amaz'd, with running water we prepare To quench the sacred fire, and slake his hair; But old Anchises, vers'd in omens, rear'd His hands to heav'n, and this request preferr'd: 'If any vows, almighty Jove, can bend Thy will; if piety can pray'rs commend, Confirm the glad presage which thou art pleas'd to send.'

Scarce had he said, when, on our left, we hear A peal of rattling thunder roll in air: There shot a streaming lamp along the sky, Which on the winged lightning seem'd to fly; From o'er the roof the blaze began to move, And, trailing, vanish'd in th' Idaean grove.

It swept a path in heav'n, and shone a guide, Then in a steaming stench of sulphur died.

"The good old man with suppliant hands implor'd The G.o.ds' protection, and their star ador'd.

'Now, now,' said he, 'my son, no more delay!

I yield, I follow where Heav'n shews the way.

Keep, O my country G.o.ds, our dwelling place, And guard this relic of the Trojan race, This tender child! These omens are your own, And you can yet restore the ruin'd town.

At least accomplish what your signs foreshow: I stand resign'd, and am prepar'd to go.'

"He said. The crackling flames appear on high.

And driving sparkles dance along the sky.

With Vulcan's rage the rising winds conspire, And near our palace roll the flood of fire.

'Haste, my dear father, ('t is no time to wait,) And load my shoulders with a willing freight.

Whate'er befalls, your life shall be my care; One death, or one deliv'rance, we will share.

My hand shall lead our little son; and you, My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue.

Next, you, my servants, heed my strict commands: Without the walls a ruin'd temple stands, To Ceres hallow'd once; a cypress nigh Shoots up her venerable head on high, By long religion kept; there bend your feet, And in divided parties let us meet.

Our country G.o.ds, the relics, and the bands, Hold you, my father, in your guiltless hands: In me 't is impious holy things to bear, Red as I am with slaughter, new from war, Till in some living stream I cleanse the guilt Of dire debate, and blood in battle spilt.'

Thus, ord'ring all that prudence could provide, I clothe my shoulders with a lion's hide And yellow spoils; then, on my bending back, The welcome load of my dear father take; While on my better hand Ascanius hung, And with unequal paces tripp'd along.

Creusa kept behind; by choice we stray Thro' ev'ry dark and ev'ry devious way.

I, who so bold and dauntless, just before, The Grecian darts and shock of lances bore, At ev'ry shadow now am seiz'd with fear, Not for myself, but for the charge I bear; Till, near the ruin'd gate arriv'd at last, Secure, and deeming all the danger past, A frightful noise of trampling feet we hear.

My father, looking thro' the shades, with fear, Cried out: 'Haste, haste, my son, the foes are nigh; Their swords and shining armor I descry.'

Some hostile G.o.d, for some unknown offense, Had sure bereft my mind of better sense; For, while thro' winding ways I took my flight, And sought the shelter of the gloomy night, Alas! I lost Creusa: hard to tell If by her fatal destiny she fell, Or weary sate, or wander'd with affright; But she was lost for ever to my sight.

I knew not, or reflected, till I meet My friends, at Ceres' now deserted seat.

We met: not one was wanting; only she Deceiv'd her friends, her son, and wretched me.

"What mad expressions did my tongue refuse!

Whom did I not, of G.o.ds or men, accuse!

This was the fatal blow, that pain'd me more Than all I felt from ruin'd Troy before.

Stung with my loss, and raving with despair, Abandoning my now forgotten care, Of counsel, comfort, and of hope bereft, My sire, my son, my country G.o.ds I left.

In shining armor once again I sheathe My limbs, not feeling wounds, nor fearing death.

Then headlong to the burning walls I run, And seek the danger I was forc'd to shun.

I tread my former tracks; thro' night explore Each pa.s.sage, ev'ry street I cross'd before.

All things were full of horror and affright, And dreadful ev'n the silence of the night.

Then to my father's house I make repair, With some small glimpse of hope to find her there.

Instead of her, the cruel Greeks I met; The house was fill'd with foes, with flames beset.

Driv'n on the wings of winds, whole sheets of fire, Thro' air transported, to the roofs aspire.

From thence to Priam's palace I resort, And search the citadel and desart court.

Then, un.o.bserv'd, I pa.s.s by Juno's church: A guard of Grecians had possess'd the porch; There Phoenix and Ulysses watch prey, And thither all the wealth of Troy convey: The spoils which they from ransack'd houses brought, And golden bowls from burning altars caught, The tables of the G.o.ds, the purple vests, The people's treasure, and the pomp of priests.

A rank of wretched youths, with pinion'd hands, And captive matrons, in long order stands.

Then, with ungovern'd madness, I proclaim, Thro' all the silent street, Creusa's name: Creusa still I call; at length she hears, And sudden thro' the shades of night appears- Appears, no more Creusa, nor my wife, But a pale specter, larger than the life.

Aghast, astonish'd, and struck dumb with fear, I stood; like bristles rose my stiffen'd hair.

Then thus the ghost began to soothe my grief 'Nor tears, nor cries, can give the dead relief.

Desist, my much-lov'd lord,'t indulge your pain; You bear no more than what the G.o.ds ordain.

My fates permit me not from hence to fly; Nor he, the great controller of the sky.

Long wand'ring ways for you the pow'rs decree; On land hard labors, and a length of sea.

Then, after many painful years are past, On Latium's happy sh.o.r.e you shall be cast, Where gentle Tiber from his bed beholds The flow'ry meadows, and the feeding folds.

There end your toils; and there your fates provide A quiet kingdom, and a royal bride: There fortune shall the Trojan line restore, And you for lost Creusa weep no more.

Fear not that I shall watch, with servile shame, Th' imperious looks of some proud Grecian dame; Or, stooping to the victor's l.u.s.t, disgrace My G.o.ddess mother, or my royal race.

And now, farewell! The parent of the G.o.ds Restrains my fleeting soul in her abodes: I trust our common issue to your care.'

She said, and gliding pa.s.s'd unseen in air.

I strove to speak: but horror tied my tongue; And thrice about her neck my arms I flung, And, thrice deceiv'd, on vain embraces hung.

Light as an empty dream at break of day, Or as a blast of wind, she rush'd away.

"Thus having pa.s.s'd the night in fruitless pain, I to my longing friends return again, Amaz'd th' augmented number to behold, Of men and matrons mix'd, of young and old; A wretched exil'd crew together brought, With arms appointed, and with treasure fraught, Resolv'd, and willing, under my command, To run all hazards both of sea and land.

The Morn began, from Ida, to display Her rosy cheeks; and Phosphor led the day: Before the gates the Grecians took their post, And all pretense of late relief was lost.

I yield to Fate, unwillingly retire, And, loaded, up the hill convey my sire."