University of Virginia Library

THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY

While all with silence & attention wait,
Thus speaks Æneas from the bed of State:
Madam, when you command us to review
Our Fate, you make our old wounds bleed anew
And all those sorrows to my sence restore,
Whereof none saw so much, none suffer'd more:
Not the most cruel of Our conqu'ring Foes
So unconcern'dly can relate our woes,
As not to lend a tear, Then how can I
Repress the horror of my thoughts, which fly
The sad remembrance? Now th'expiring night
And the declining Stars to rest invite;
Yet since 'tis your command, what you, so well
Are pleas'd to hear, I cannot grieve to tell.
By Fate repell'd, and with repulses tyr'd,
The Greeks, so many Lives and years expir'd,
A Fabrick like a moving Mountain frame,
Pretending vows for their return; This, Fame
Divulges, then within the beasts vast womb
The choice and flower of all their Troops intomb,
In view the Isle of Tenedos, once high
In fame and wealth, while Troy remain'd, doth lie,
(Now but an unsecure and open Bay)
Thither by stealth the Greeks their Fleet convey:
We gave them gone, and to Mycenæ sail'd,
And Troy reviv'd, her mourning face unvail'd;
All through th'unguarded Gates with joy resort
To see the slighted Camp, the vacant Port;
Here lay Ulysses, there Achilles, here
The Battels joyn'd, the Grecian Fleet rode there;
But the vast Pile th'amazed vulgar views
Till they their Reason in their wonder lose;
And first Tymætes moves, (urg'd by the Power
Of Fate, or Fraud) to place it in the Tower,
But Capis and the graver sort thought fit,
The Greeks suspected Present to commit
To Seas or Flames, at least to search and bore
The sides, and what that space contains t'explore;
Th'uncertain Multitude with both engag'd,
Divided stands, till from the Tower, enrag'd
Laocoon ran, whom all the crowd attends,
Crying, what desperat Frenzy's this? (oh friends)
To think them gone? Judge rather their retreat
But a design, their gifts but a deceit,
For our Destruction 'twas contriv'd no doubt,
Or from within by fraud, or from without
By force; yet know ye not Ulysses shifts?
Their swords less danger carry than their gifts.
(This said) against the Horses side, his spear
He throws, which trembles with inclosed fear,
Whilst from the hollows of his womb proceed
Groans, not his own; And had not Fate decreed
Our Ruine, We had fill'd with Grecian blood
The Place, Then Troy and Priam's Throne had stood;
Meanwhile a fetter'd pris'ner to the King
With joyful shouts the Dardan Shepherds bring,
Who to betray us did himself betray,
At once the Taker, and at once the Prey,
Firmly prepar'd, of one Event secur'd,
Or of his Death or his Design assur'd.
The Trojan Youth about the Captive flock,
To wonder, or to pity, or to mock.
Now hear the Grecian fraud, and from this one
Conjecture all the rest.
Disarm'd, disorder'd, casting round his eyes
On all the Troops that guarded him, he cries,
What Land, what Sea, for me what Fate attends?
Caught by my Foes, condemned by my Friends,
Incensed Troy a wretched Captive seeks
To sacrifice, a Fugitive, the Greeks.
To Pity, This Complaint our former Rage,
Converts, we now enquire his Parentage,
What of their Councils, or affairs he knew,
Then fearless, he replies, Great King to you
All truth I shall relate: Nor first can I
My self to be of Grecian birth deny,
And though my outward state, misfortune hath
Deprest thus low, it cannot reach my Faith.
You may by chance have heard the famous name
Of Palimede, who from old Belus came,
Whom, but for voting Peace, the Greeks pursue,
Accus'd unjustly, then unjustly slew,
Yet mourn'd his death. My Father was his friend,
And me to his commands did recommend,
While Laws and Councils did his Throne support,
I but a youth, yet some Esteem and Port
We then did bear, till by Ulysses craft
(Things known I speak) he was of life bereft:
Since in dark sorrow I my days did spend,
Till now disdaining his unworthy end
I could not silence my Complaints, but vow'd
Revenge, if ever fate or chance allow'd
My wisht return to Greece; from hence his hate,
From thence my crimes, and all my ills bear date:
Old guilt fresh malice gives; The peoples ears
He fills with rumors, and their hearts with fears,
And then the Prophet to his party drew.
But why do I these thankless truths pursue;
Or why defer your Rage? on me, for all
The Greeks, let your revenging fury fall.
Ulysses this, th'Atridæ this desire
At any rate. We streight are set on fire
(Unpractis'd in such Mysteries) to enquire
The manner and the cause, Which thus he told
With gestures humble, as his Tale was bold.
Oft have the Greeks (the siege detesting) tyr'd
With tedious war, a stoln retreat desir'd,
And would to heaven they had gone: But still dismay'd
By Seas or Skies, unwillingly they stay'd,
Chiefly when this stupendious Pile was rais'd
Strange noises fill'd the Air, we all amaz'd
Dispatch Eurypilus to enquire our Fates
Who thus the sentence of the Gods relates,
A Virgins slaughter did the storm appease
When first towards Troy the Grecians took the Seas,
Their safe retreat another Grecians blood
Must purchase; All, at this confounded stood:
Each thinks himself the Man, the fear on all
Of what, the mischief, but on one can fall:
Then Calchas (by Ulysses first inspir'd)
Was urg'd to name whom th'angry Gods requir'd,
Yet was I warn'd (for many were as well
Inspir'd as he) and did my fate foretel.
Ten days the Prophet in suspence remain'd,
Would no mans fate pronounce; at last constrain'd
By Ithacus, he solemnly design'd
Me for the Sacrifice; the people joyn'd
In glad consent, and all their common fear
Determine in my fate, the day drew near;
The sacred Rites prepar'd, my temples crown'd
With holy wreaths, Then I confess I found
The means to my escape, my bonds I brake,
Fled from my Guards, and in a muddy Lake
Amongst the Sedges all the night lay hid,
Till they their Sails had hoist (if so they did)
And now alas no hope remains for me
My home, my father and my sons to see,
Whom, they enrag'd, will kill for my Offence,
And punish for my guilt their Innocence.
Those Gods who know the Truths I now relate,
That faith which yet remains inviolate
By mortal men, By these I beg, redress
My causless wrongs, and pity such distress.
And now true Pity in exchange he finds
For his false Tears, his Tongue, his hands unbinds.
Then spake the King, be Ours whoere thou art,
Forget the Greeks. But first the truth impart,
Why did they raise, or to what use intend
This Pile? to a Warlike, or Religious end?
Skilful in fraud, (his native Art) his hands
Toward heaven he rais'd, deliver'd now from bands.
Ye pure, Æthereal flames, ye Powers ador'd
By mortal men, ye Altars, and the sword
I scap'd; ye sacred Fillets that involv'd
My destin'd head, grant I may stand absolv'd
From all their Laws and Rites, renounce all name
Of faith or love, their secret thoughts proclaim;
Only O Troy, preserve thy faith to me,
If what I shall relate preserveth thee.
From Pallas favour, all our hopes, and all
Counsels, and Actions took Original,
Till Diomed (for such attempts made fit
By dire conjunction with Ulysses wit)
Assails the sacred Tower, the Guards they slay,
Defile with bloudy hands, and thence convey
The fatal Image; straight with our success
Our hopes fell back, whilst prodigies express
Her just disdain, her flaming eyes did throw
Flashes of lightning, from each part did flow
A briny sweat, thrice brandishing her spear,
Her Statue from the ground it self did rear;
Then, that we should our Sacrilege restore
And reconveigh their Gods from Argos shore,
Calchas perswades, till then we urge in vain
The fate of Troy. To measure back the Main
They all consent, but to return agen,
When re-inforc'd with aids of Gods and men.
Thus Calchas, then instead of that, this Pile
To Pallas was design'd; to reconcile
Th'offended Power, and expiate our guilt,
To this vast height and monstrous stature built,
Lest through your gates receiv'd, it might renew
Your vows to her, and her Defence to you.
But if this sacred gift you dis-esteem,
Then cruel Plagues (which heaven divert on them)
Shall fall on Priams State: but if the horse
Your walls ascend, assisted by your force,
A League 'gainst Greece all Asia shall contract;
Our Sons then suffering what their Sires would act.
Thus by his fraud and our own faith o'recome,
A feigned tear destroys us, against whom
Tydides nor Achilles could prevail,
Nor ten years conflict, nor a thousand sail.
This seconded by a most sad Portent
Which credit to the first imposture lent;
Laocoon, Neptunes Priest, upon the day
Devoted to that God, a Bull did slay,
When two prodigious serpents were descride,
Whose circling stroaks the Seas smooth face divide;
Above the deep they raise their scaly Crests,
And stem the floud with their erected brests,
Their winding tails advance and steer their course,
And 'gainst the shore the breaking Billow force.
Now landing, from their brandisht tongues there came
A dreadful hiss, and from their eyes a flame:
Amaz'd we fly, directly in a line
Laocoon they pursue, and first intwine
(Each preying upon one) his tender sons,
Then him, who armed to their rescue runs,
They seiz'd, and with intangling folds embrac'd
His neck twice compassing, and twice his wast,
Their poys'nous knots he strives to break, and tear,
Whilst slime and bloud his sacred wreaths besmear,
Then loudly roars, as when th'enraged Bull
From th'Altar flies, and from his wounded skull
Shakes the huge Ax; the conqu'ring serpents fly
To cruel Pallas Altar, and there ly
Under her feet, within her shields extent;
We in our fears conclude this fate was sent
Justly on him, who struck the Sacred Oak
With his accursed Lance. Then to invoke
The Goddess, and let in the fatal horse
We all consent:
A spacious breach we make, & Troys proud wall
Built by the Gods, by our own hands doth fall;
Thus, all their help to their own ruine give,
Some draw with cords, and some the Monster drive
With Rolls and Leavers, thus our works it climbs,
Big with our fate, the youth with Songs and Rhimes,
Some dance, some hale the Rope; at last let down
It enters with a thundering noise the Town.
O Troy the seat of Gods, in war renown'd;
Three times it stuck, as oft the clashing sound
Of Arms was heard, yet blinded by the Power
Of Fate, we place it in the sacred Tower.
Cassandra then foretels th'event, but she
Finds no belief (such was the Gods decree.)
The Altars with fresh flowers we crown, & wast
In Feasts that day, which was (alas) our last.
Now by the revolution of the Skies,
Nights sable shadows from the Ocean rise,
Which heaven and earth, and the Greek frauds involv'd,
The City in secure repose dissolv'd,
When from the Admirals high Poop appears
A light, by which the Argive Squadron Steers
Their silent course to Iliums well known Shore,
When Synon (sav'd by the Gods partial power)
Opens the horse, and through the unlockt doors
To the free Ayr the armed fraight restores:
Ulysses, Stenelus, Tysander slide
Down by a Rope, Machaon was their guide;
Atrides, Pyrrhus, Thoas, Athamas,
And Epeus who the frauds contriver was,
The Gates they seize, the Guards with sleep and wine
Opprest, surprize, and then their forces joyn.
'Twas then, when the first sweets of sleep repair
Our bodies spent with toil, our minds with care
(The Gods best gift) When bath'd in tears and blood
Before my face lamenting Hector stood,
Such his aspect when soyl'd with bloudy dust
Dragg'd by the cords which through his feet were thrust
By his insulting Foe; O how transform'd!
How much unlike that Hector who return'd
Clad in Achilles spoyls; when he, among
A thousand ships (like Jove) his Lightning flung;
His horrid Beard and knotted Tresses stood
Stiff with his gore, & all his wounds ran blood,
Intranc'd I lay, then (weeping) said, The Joy,
The hope and stay of thy declining Troy;
What Region held thee, whence, so much desir'd,
Art thou restor'd to us consum'd and tir'd
With toyls and deaths; but what sad cause confounds
Thy once fair looks, or why appear those wounds?
Regardless of my words, he no reply
Returns, but with a dreadful groan doth cry,
Fly from the Flame, O Goddess-born, our walls
The Greeks possess, and Troy confounded falls
From all her Glories; if it might have stood
By any Power, by this right hand it should.
What Man could do, by me for Troy was done,
Take here her Reliques and her Gods, to run
With them they Fate, with them new Walls expect,
Which, tost on Seas, thou shalt at last erect;
Then brings old Vesta from her sacred Quire,
Her holy Wreaths, and her eternal Fire.
Mean while the Walls with doubtful cries resound
From far (for shady coverts did surround
My Fathers house) approaching still more near
The clash of Arms, and voice of men we hear:
Rowz'd from my Bed, I speedily ascend
The house's top, and listning there attend,
As flames rowl'd by the winds conspiring force,
Ore full-ear'd Corn, or Torrents raging course
Bears down th'opposing Oaks, the fields destroys
And mocks the Plough-mans toil, th'unlookt for noise
From neighb'ring hills, th'amazed Shepherd hears;
Such my surprise, and such their rage appears,
First fell thy house Ucalegon, then thine
Deiphobus, Sigæan Seas did shine
Bright with Troys flames, the Trumpets dreadful sound,
The louder groans of dying men confound.
Give me my arms, I cry'd, resolv'd to throw
My self 'mongst any that oppos'd the Foe:
Rage, anger, and Despair at once suggest
That of all Deaths, to die in Arms was best.
The first I met was Panthus, Phœbus Priest,
Who scaping with his Gods and Reliques fled,
And towards the shore his little Grandchild led;
Panthus, what hope remains? what force? what place
Made good? but sighing, he replies (alas)
Trojans we were, and mighty Ilium was;
But the last period and fatal hour
Of Troy is come: Our Glory and our Power
Incensed Jove transfers to Grecian hands,
The foe within, the burning Town commands;
And (like a smother'd fire) an unseen force
Breaks from the bowels of the fatal Horse:
Insulting Synon flings about the flame,
And thousands more than e're from Argos came
Possess the Gates, the Passes and the Streets,
And these the sword oretakes, & those it meets,
The Guard nor fights nor flies, Their fate so near
At once suspends their Courage and their Fear.
Thus by the Gods, and by Atrides words
Inspir'd, I make my way through fire, through swords,
Where Noises, Tumults, Out-cries and Alarms
I heard, first Iphitus renown'd for Arms
We meet, who knew us (for the Moon did shine)
Then Ripheus, Hippanis and Dymas joyn
Their force, and young Choræbus Mygdons son,
Who, by the Love of fair Cassandra, won,
Arriv'd but lately in her Fathers Ayd
Unhappy, whom the Threats could not disswade
Of his Prophetick Spouse;
Whom, when I saw, yet daring to maintain
The fight, I said, Brave Spirits (but in vain)
Are you resolv'd to follow one who dares
Tempt all extreams? The state of Our affairs
You see: The Gods have left us, by whose aid
Our Empire stood; nor can the flame be staid:
Then let us fall amidst Our Foes; this one
Relief the vanquisht have, to hope for none.
Then re-inforc'd, as in a stormy night
Wolves urged by their raging appetite
Forrage for prey, which their neglected young
With greedy jaws expect, ev'n so among
Foes, Fire and Swords, t'assured death we pass,
Darkness our Guide, Despair our Leader was.
Who can relate that Evenings woes and spoils,
Or can his tears proportion to our Toils!
The City, which so long had flourisht, falls;
Death triumphs o're the Houses, Temples, Walls
Nor only on the Trojans fell this doom,
Their hearts at last the vanquish'd re-assume;
And now the Victors fall, on all sides, fears,
Groans and pale Death in all her shapes appears:
Androgeus first with his whole Troop was cast
Upon us, with civility misplac't;
Thus greeting us you lose by your delay,
Your share both of the honour and the prey,
Others the spoils of burning Troy convey
Back to those ships, which you but now forsake.
We making no return; his sad mistake
Too late he finds: As when an unseen Snake
A Travellers unwary foot hath prest,
Who trembling starts, when the Snakes azure Crest,
Swoln with his rising Anger, he espies,
So from our view surpriz'd Androgeus flies.
But here an easie victory we meet:
Fear binds their hands, and ignorance their feet,
Whilst Fortune, our first Enterprize, did aid,
Encourag'd with success, Choræbus said,
O Friends, we now by better Fates are led,
And the fair Path they lead us, let us tread.
First change your Arms, and their distinctions bear;
The same, in foes, Deceit and Vertue are.
Then of his Arms, Androgeus he divests,
His Sword, his Shield he takes, and plumed Crests,
Then Ripheus, Dymas, and the rest, All glad
Of the occasion, in fresh spoils are clad.
Thus mixt, with Greeks, as if their Fortune still
Follow'd their swords, we fight, pursue, and kill.
Some re-ascend the Horse, and he whose sides
Let forth the valiant, now, the Coward hides.
Some, to their safer Guard, their Ships, retire;
But vain's that hope, 'gainst which the Gods conspire:
Behold the Royal Virgin, The Divine
Cassandra, from Minerva's fatal shrine
Dragg'd by the hair, casting tow'rds heaven in vain,
Her Eyes; for Cords her tender hands did strain:
Choræbus at the spectacle enrag'd,
Flies in amidst the foes: we thus engag'd,
To second him, amongst the thickest ran;
Here first our ruine from our friends began,
Who from the Temples Battlements a shower
Of Darts and Arrows on our heads did powr:
They, us for Greeks, and now the Greeks (who knew
Cassandra's rescue) us for Trojans slew.
Then from all parts Ulysses, Ajax, then,
And then th'Atridæ rally all their men;
As winds, that meet from several Coasts, contest,
Their prisons being broke, the South and West,
And Eurus on his winged Coursers born
Triumphing in their speed, the woods are torn,
And chafing Nereus with his Trident throws
The billows from their bottom; Then all those
Who in the dark our fury did escape,
Returning, know our borrowed Arms and shape
And diff'ring Dialect: Then their numbers swell
And grow upon us; first Choræbus fell
Before Minerva's Altar, next did bleed
Just Ripheus, whom no Trojan did exceed
In virtue, yet the Gods his fate decreed.
Then Hippanis and Dymas wounded by
Their friends; nor thee Panthus thy Piety,
Nor consecrated Mitre, from the same
Ill fate could save; My Countreys funeral flame
And Troys cold ashes I attest, and call
To witness for my self, That in their fall
No Foes, no Death, nor Danger I declin'd
Did, and deserv'd no less, my Fate to find.
Now Iphitus with me, and Pelias
Slowly retire, the one retarded was
By feeble Age, the other by a wound,
To Court the Cry directs us, where We found
Th'Assault so hot, as if 'twere only there,
And all the rest secure from foes or fear:
The Greeks the Gates approach'd, their Targets cast,
Over their heads, some scaling ladders plac't
Against the walls, the rest the steps ascend,
And with their shields on their left Arms defend
Arrows and darts, and with their right hold fast
The Battlement; on them the Trojans cast
Stones, Rafters, Pillars, Beams, such Arms as these,
Now hopeless, for their last defence they seize.
The gilded Roofs, the marks of ancient state
They tumble down, and now against the Gate
Of th'Inner Court their growing force they bring,
Now was Our last effort to save the King.
Relieve the fainting, and succeed the dead.
A Private Gallery 'twixt th'appartments led,
Not to the Foe yet known, or not observ'd,
(The way for Hectors hapless Wife reserv'd,
When to the aged King, her little son
She would present) Through this we pass and run
Up to the highest Battlement, from whence
The Trojans threw their darts without offence.
A Tower so high, it seem'd to reach the sky,
Stood on the Roof, from whence we could descry
All Ilium—both the Camps, the Grecian Fleet;
This, where the Beams upon the Columns meet,
We loosen, which like Thunder from the Cloud
Breaks on their heads, as sudden and as loud.
But others still succeed: mean time, nor stones
Nor any kind of weapons cease.
Before the Gate in gilded Armour, shone
Young Pyrrhus, like a Snake his skin new grown,
Who fed on poys'nous herbs, all winter lay
Under the ground, and now reviews the day
Fresh in his new apparel, proud and young,
Rowls up his Back, and brandishes his tongue,
And lifts his scaly breast against the Sun;
With him his Fathers Squire, Antomedon
And Periphas who drove his winged steeds,
Enter the Court; whom all the youth succeeds
Of Scyros Isle, who flaming firebrands flung
Up to the roof, Pyrrhus himself among
The formost with an Axe an entrance hews
Through beams of solid Oak, then freely views
The Chambers, Galleries, and Rooms of State,
Where Priam and the ancient Monarchs sate.
At the first Gate an Armed Guard appears;
But th'Inner Court with horror, noise and tears
Confus'dly fill'd, the womens shrieks and cries
The Arched Vaults re-eccho to the skies;
Sad Matrons wandring through the spacious Rooms
Embrace and kiss the Posts: Then Pyrrhus comes
Full of his Father, neither Men nor Walls
His force sustain, the torn Port-cullis falls,
Then from the hinge, their strokes the Gates divorce,
And where the way they cannot find, they force:
Not with such rage a Swelling Torrent flows
Above his banks, th'opposing Dams orethrows,
Depopulates the Fields, the Cattel, Sheep,
Shepherds, and folds the foaming Surges sweep.
And now between two sad extreams I stood,
Here Pyrrhus and th'Atridæ drunk with blood,
There th'hapless Queen amongst an hundred Dames,
And Priam quenching from his wounds those flames
Which his own hands had on the Altar laid:
Then they the secret Cabinets invade,
Where stood the Fifty Nuptial Beds, the hopes
Of that great Race, the Golden Posts whose tops
Old hostile spoils adorn'd, demolisht lay,
Or to the foe, or to the fire a Prey.
Now Priams fate perhaps you may enquire,
Seeing his Empire lost, his Troy on fire,
And his own Palace by the Greeks possest,
Arms, long disus'd, his trembling limbs invest;
Thus on his foes he throws himself alone,
Not for their Fate, but to provoke his own:
There stood an Altar open to the view
Of Heaven, near which an aged Lawrel grew,
Whose shady arms the houshold Gods embrac'd;
Before whose feet the Queen her self had cast,
With all her daughters, and the Trojan wives,
As Doves whom an approaching tempest drives
And frights into one flock; But having spy'd
Old Priam clad in youthful Arms, she cry'd,
Alas my wretched husband, what pretence
To bear those Arms, and in them what defence?
Such aid such times require not, when again
If Hector were alive, he liv'd in vain;
Or here We shall a Sanctuary find,
Or as in life, we shall in death be joyn'd.
Then weeping, with kind force held & embrac'd
And on the sacred seat the King she plac'd;
Mean while Polites one of Priams sons
Flying the rage of bloudy Pyrrhus, runs
Through foes & swords, & ranges all the Court
And empty Galleries, amaz'd and hurt,
Pyrrhus pursues him, now oretakes, now kills,
And his last blood in Priams presence spills.
The King (though him so many deaths inclose)
Nor fear, nor grief, but Indignation shows;
The Gods requite thee (if within the care
Of those above th'affairs of mortals are)
Whose fury on the son but lost had been,
Had not his Parents Eyes his murder seen:
Not That Achilles (whom thou feign'st to be
Thy Father) so inhumane was to me;
He blusht, when I the rights of Arms implor'd;
To me my Hector, me to Troy restor'd:
This said, his feeble Arm a Javelin flung,
Which on the sounding shield, scarce entring, rung.
Then Pyrrhus; go a messenger to Hell
Of my black deeds, and to my Father tell
The Acts of his degenerate Race. So through
His Sons warm bloud, the trembling King he drew
To th'Altar; in his hair one hand he wreaths;
His sword, the other in his bosom sheaths.
Thus fell the King, who yet surviv'd the State,
With such a signal and peculiar Fate.
Under so vast a ruine not a Grave,
Nor in such flames a funeral fire to have:
He, whom such Titles swell'd, such Power made proud
To whom the Scepters of all Asia bow'd,
On the cold earth lies th'unregarded King,
A headless Carkass, and a nameless Thing.