II. The Song of the Trojan Horse.
SUNG TO ULYSSES BY THE MINSTREL DEMODOCUS.
[_]
FROM THE ODYSSEY.—Book VIII. 477–534.
I
“Here, herald,” he said, “take this portion of meat,
And bear it from me, that the minstrel may eat;
Although sad is my heart, yet I gladly will give
The honor that bards should from all men receive;
For honor and reverence should ever belong
To the loved of the Muses, the framers of song.”
So spoke forth Odysseus—the herald obeyed,
And his gift was at once by Demodocus laid.
II
The minstrel received it, rejoicing in heart,
Then the feast was begun, and they all took a part;
And when sated with meat and with wine was each guest,
By Odysseus the singer again was addressed:
“The lot of no other I honor as thine;
For the Muse taught thy lay, or Apollo divine;
Thy song of th' Achivi tells truly and well,
How they toiled in the wars, how they fought and they fell.
III
We would think 'mid those deeds that thou present hast been
Or hast heard them from one who the combat had seen.
Be the famed Horse of Wood now renowned in thy lays,
Which Athené assisted Epéus to raise.
How brought by Odysseus, with stratagem bold,
It was placed, full of men, within Ilion's stronghold.
This tale truly sing; and my tongue shall maintain,
O'er the earth, that a god has inspired thy sweet strain.”
IV
The minstrel began as the godhead inspired,
He sang how their tents the Argives had fired,
And over the sea in trim barks bent their course,
While their chiefs with Odysseus were closed in the horse,
Mid the Trojans, who had that fell engine of wood
Dragged on, till in Troy's inmost turret it stood;
There long did they ponder in anxious debate,
What to do with the steed, as around it they sate.
V
Then before them three several counsels were laid,
Into pieces to hew it by edge of the blade;
Or to draw it forth thence to the brow of a rock,
And downward to fling it with shivering shock;
Or, shrined in the tower, let it there make abode,
As an offering to ward off the anger of God.
The last counsel prevailed, for the moment of doom,
When the town held the horse, upon Ilion had come.
VI
The Argives in ambush awaited the hour,
When slaughter and death on their foes they should shower.
When it came from their hollow retreat rushing down,
The sons of the Achivi smote sorely the town.
Then scattered, on blood and on ravaging bent,
Through all parts of the city chance-guided they went,
And he sang how Odysseus at once made his way
To where the proud domes of Deiphobus lay.
VII
With bold Menelaus he thitherward strode,
In valor an equal to war's fiery god.
There fierce was the fight, dread the deeds that were done,
Till, aided by Pallas, the battle he won.
So sang the rapt minstrel the blood-stirring tale,
But the cheek of Odysseus waxed deathly and pale;
While the song warbled on of the days that were past,
His eyelids were wet with the tears falling fast.
VIII
As wails the lorn bride, with her arms clasping round
Her own beloved husband, laid low on the ground;
From the town, with his people, he sallied out brave,
His country, his children, from insult to save.
She sees his last gasping, life ready to part,
And she flings herself on him, pressed close to her heart.
Shrill she screams o'er the dying, while enemies near
Beat her shoulders and back with the pitiless spear.
IX
They bear her away—as a slave she must go;
For ever a victim of toil and of wo.
Soon wastes her sad cheek with the traces of grief:
Sad as hers showed the face of famed Ithaca's chief.
But none saw the tear-drops which fell from his eye,
Save the king at the board who was seated close by;
And Alcinous watched him, and noted alone,
How deep from his breast came the heavy-sent groan.
