The Aeneid. Публий Марон Вергилий

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      Scarce had I said, when Pantheus, with a groan:

      ‘Troy is no more, and Ilium was a town!

      The fatal day, th’ appointed hour, is come,

      When wrathful Jove’s irrevocable doom

      Transfers the Trojan state to Grecian hands.

      The fire consumes the town, the foe commands;

      And armed hosts, an unexpected force,

      Break from the bowels of the fatal horse.

      Within the gates, proud Sinon throws about

      The flames; and foes for entrance press without,

      With thousand others, whom I fear to name,

      More than from Argos or Mycenae came.

      To sev’ral posts their parties they divide;

      Some block the narrow streets, some scour the wide:

      The bold they kill, th’ unwary they surprise;

      Who fights finds death, and death finds him who flies.

      The warders of the gate but scarce maintain

      Th’ unequal combat, and resist in vain.’

      “I heard; and Heav’n, that well-born souls inspires,

      Prompts me thro’ lifted swords and rising fires

      To run where clashing arms and clamor calls,

      And rush undaunted to defend the walls.

      Ripheus and Iph’itus by my side engage,

      For valor one renown’d, and one for age.

      Dymas and Hypanis by moonlight knew

      My motions and my mien, and to my party drew;

      With young Coroebus, who by love was led

      To win renown and fair Cassandra’s bed,

      And lately brought his troops to Priam’s aid,

      Forewarn’d in vain by the prophetic maid.

      Whom when I saw resolv’d in arms to fall,

      And that one spirit animated all:

      ‘Brave souls!’ said I,—‘but brave, alas! in vain—

      Come, finish what our cruel fates ordain.

      You see the desp’rate state of our affairs,

      And heav’n’s protecting pow’rs are deaf to pray’rs.

      The passive gods behold the Greeks defile

      Their temples, and abandon to the spoil

      Their own abodes: we, feeble few, conspire

      To save a sinking town, involv’d in fire.

      Then let us fall, but fall amidst our foes:

      Despair of life the means of living shows.’

      So bold a speech incourag’d their desire

      Of death, and added fuel to their fire.

      “As hungry wolves, with raging appetite,

      Scour thro’ the fields, nor fear the stormy night—

      Their whelps at home expect the promis’d food,

      And long to temper their dry chaps in blood—

      So rush’d we forth at once; resolv’d to die,

      Resolv’d, in death, the last extremes to try.

      We leave the narrow lanes behind, and dare

      Th’ unequal combat in the public square:

      Night was our friend; our leader was despair.

      What tongue can tell the slaughter of that night?

      What eyes can weep the sorrows and affright?

      An ancient and imperial city falls:

      The streets are fill’d with frequent funerals;

      Houses and holy temples float in blood,

      And hostile nations make a common flood.

      Not only Trojans fall; but, in their turn,

      The vanquish’d triumph, and the victors mourn.

      Ours take new courage from despair and night:

      Confus’d the fortune is, confus’d the fight.

      All parts resound with tumults, plaints, and fears;

      And grisly Death in sundry shapes appears.

      Androgeos fell among us, with his band,

      Who thought us Grecians newly come to land.

      ‘From whence,’ said he, ‘my friends, this long delay?

      You loiter, while the spoils are borne away:

      Our ships are laden with the Trojan store;

      And you, like truants, come too late ashore.’

      He said, but soon corrected his mistake,

      Found, by the doubtful answers which we make:

      Amaz’d, he would have shunn’d th’ unequal fight;

      But we, more num’rous, intercept his flight.

      As when some peasant, in a bushy brake,

      Has with unwary footing press’d a snake;

      He starts aside, astonish’d, when he spies

      His rising crest, blue neck, and rolling eyes;

      So from our arms surpris’d Androgeos flies.

      In vain; for him and his we compass’d round,

      Possess’d with fear, unknowing of the ground,

      And of their lives an easy conquest found.

      Thus Fortune on our first endeavor smil’d.

      Coroebus then, with youthful СКАЧАТЬ