Poetical Works of Edmund Waller and Sir John Denham Part 39

THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY.

AN ESSAY ON THE SECOND BOOK OF VIRGIL'S AENEIS, WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1636.

THE ARGUMENT.

The first book speaks of Aeneas's voyage by sea, and how, being cast by tempest upon the coast of Carthage, he was received by Queen Dido, who, after the feast, desires him to make the relation of the destruction of Troy; which is the argument of this book.

While all with silence and attention wait, Thus speaks Aeneas 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 sense 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 10 The sad remembrance? Now th'expiring night And the declining stars to rest invite; Yet since 'tis your command, what you so well Are pleased to hear, I cannot grieve to tell.

By fate repell'd and with repulses tired, The Greeks, so many lives and years expired, A fabric like a moving mountain frame, 17 Pretending vows for their return; this Fame Divulges; then within the beast's vast womb The choice and flower of all their troops entomb; 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,[1] and to Mycenae sail'd, And Troy reviv'd, her mourning face unveil'd; All through th'unguarded gates with joy resort To see the slighted camp, the vacant port; Here lay Ulysses, there Achilles; here The battles join'd; the Grecian fleet rode there; 30 But the vast pile th'amazed vulgar views, Till they their reason in their wonder lose.

And first Thymoetes moves (urged by the power Of fate, or fraud) to place it in the tower; But Capys 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 s.p.a.ce contains, t'explore.

Th' uncertain mult.i.tude with both engaged, Divided stands, till from the tower, enraged 40 Laoc.o.o.n ran, whom all the crowd attends, Crying, 'What desp'rate frenzy's this, O friends!

To think them gone? Judge rather their retreat But a design; their gifts but a deceit; For our destruction 'twas contrived 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 horse's side his spear 49 He throws, which trembles with enclosed fear, Whilst from the hollows of his womb proceed Groans, not his own; and had not Fate decreed Our ruin, 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 prepared, of one event secured, Or of his death or his design a.s.sured. 60 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.'-- 70 To pity this complaint our former rage Converts; we now inquire his parentage; What of their counsels or affairs he knew Then fearless he replies, 'Great king! to you All truth I shall relate: nor first can I Myself to be of Grecian birth deny; And though my outward state misfortune hath Depress'd thus low, it cannot reach my faith.

You may by chance have heard the famous name Of Palamede, who from old Belus came, 80 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, 90 Till now, disdaining his unworthy end, I could not silence my complaints, but vow'd Revenge, if ever fate or chance allow'd My wish'd return to Greece; from hence his hate, From thence my crimes, and all my ills bear date: Old guilt fresh malice gives; the people's ears He fills with rumours, and their hearts with fears, And then the prophet to his party drew.

But why do I those thankless truths pursue, Or why defer your rage? on me, for all The Greeks, let your revenging fury fall. 100 Ulysses this, th'Atridae this desire At any rate.'--We straight are set on fire (Unpractised in such myst'ries) to inquire The manner and the cause: which thus he told, With gestures humble, as his tale was bold.

'Oft have the Greeks (the siege detesting) tired With tedious war, a stolen retreat desired, And would to Heaven they'd gone! but still dismay'd By seas or skies, unwillingly they stay'd.

Chiefly when this stupendous pile was raised, 110 Strange noises filled the air; we, all amazed, Despatch Eurypylus t'inquire our fates, Who thus the sentence of the G.o.ds relates: "A virgin's slaughter did the storm appease, When first t'wards Troy the Grecians took the seas; Their safe retreat another Grecian's blood 116 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 inspired) Was urged to name whom th'angry G.o.d required; Yet was I warn'd (for many were as well Inspired as he) and did my fate foretell.

Ten days the prophet in suspense remain'd, Would no man's fate p.r.o.nounce; at last constrain'd By Ithacus, he solemnly design'd Me for the sacrifice; the people join'd In glad consent, and all their common fear Determine in my fate. The day drew near, The sacred rites prepared, my temples crown'd 130 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, enraged, will kill for my offence, And punish, for my guilt, their innocence.

Those G.o.ds who know the truths I now relate, 140 That faith which yet remains inviolate By mortal men, by these I beg; redress My causeless 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, whoe'er 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 150 T'ward heaven he raised, deliver'd now from bands.

'Ye pure ethereal flames! ye powers adored By mortal men! ye altars, and the sword I 'scaped! ye sacred fillets that involved My destined head! grant I may stand absolved From all their laws and rights, 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 160 Counsels and actions took original, Till Diomed (for such attempts made fit By dire conjunction with Ulysses' wit) a.s.sails the sacred tower, the guards they slay, Defile with b.l.o.o.d.y 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, 170 Her statue from the ground itself did rear; Then, that we should our sacrilege restore, And re-convey their G.o.ds from Argos' sh.o.r.e, Calchas persuades, till then we urge in vain The fate of Troy. To measure back the main They all consent, but to return again, When reinforced with aids of G.o.ds and men.

Thus Calchas; then instead of that, this pile To Pallas was design'd; to reconcile Th' offended power, and expiate our guilt; 180 To this vast height and monstrous stature built, Lest through your gates received, it might renew Your vows to her, and her defence to you.

But if this sacred gift you disesteem, Then cruel plagues (which Heaven divert on them!) Shall fall on Priam's state: but if the horse Your walls ascend, a.s.sisted by your force, A league 'gainst Greece all Asia shall contract; Our sons then suff'ring what their sires would act.'

Thus by his fraud and our own faith o'ercome, 190 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; Laoc.o.o.n, Neptune's priest, upon the day Devoted to that G.o.d, a bull did slay; When two prodigious serpents were descried, Whose circling strokes the sea's smooth face divide; Above the deep they raise their scaly crests, 200 And stem the flood with their erected b.r.e.a.s.t.s, Their winding tails advance and steer their course, And 'gainst the sh.o.r.e the breaking billows force.

Now landing, from their brandish'd tongues there came A dreadful hiss, and from their eyes a flame.

Amazed we fly, directly in a line Laoc.o.o.n they pursue, and first entwine (Each preying upon one) his tender sons; Then him, who armed to their rescue runs, They seized, and with entangling folds embraced, 210 His neck twice compa.s.sing, and twice his waist: Their pois'nous knots he strives to break and tear, While slime and blood his sacred wreaths besmear; Then loudly roars, as when th'enraged bull From th'altar flies, and from his wounded skull Shakes the huge axe; the conqu'ring serpents fly To cruel Pallas' altar, and there lie Under her feet, within her shield's extent. 218 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 G.o.ddess, and let in the fatal horse, We all consent.

A s.p.a.cious breach we make, and Troy's proud wall Built by the G.o.ds, by our own hands doth fall; Thus, all their help to their own ruin give, Some draw with cords, and some the monster drive With rolls and levers: thus our works it climbs Big with our fate; the youth with songs and rhymes, Some dance, some hale the rope; at last let down 230 It enters with a thund'ring noise the town.

Oh Troy! the seat of G.o.ds, in war renown'd!

Three times it struck; as oft the clashing sound Of arms was heard; yet blinded by the power Of Fate, we place it in the sacred tower.

Ca.s.sandra then foretells th'event, but she Finds no belief (such was the G.o.ds' decree).

The altars with fresh flowers we crown, and waste In feasts that day, which was (alas!) our last.

Now by the revolution of the skies 240 Night's sable shadows from the ocean rise, Which heaven and earth, and the Greek frauds involved, The city in secure repose dissolved, When from the admiral's high p.o.o.p appears A light, by which the Argive squadron steers Their silent course to Ilium's well-known sh.o.r.e, When Sinon (saved by the G.o.ds' partial power) Opens the horse, and through the unlock'd doors To the free air the armed freight restores: Ulysses, Stheneleus, Tisander slide 250 Down by a rope, Machaon was their guide; Atrides, Pyrrhus, Thoas, Athamas, And Epeus who the fraud's contriver was.

The gates they seize; the guards, with sleep and wine Oppress'd, surprise, and then their forces join.

'Twas then, when the first sweets of sleep repair Our bodies spent with toil, our minds with care, (The G.o.ds' best gift), when, bathed in tears and blood, Before my face lamenting Hector stood, His aspect such when, soil'd with b.l.o.o.d.y dust, 260 Dragg'd by the cords which through his feet were thrust By his insulting foe; oh, how transform'd, How much unlike that Hector, who return'd Clad in Achilles' spoils! when he, among A thousand ships (like Jove) his lightning flung!

His horrid beard and knotted tresses stood Stiff with his gore, and all his wounds ran blood: Entranced I lay, then (weeping) said, 'The joy, The hope and stay of thy declining Troy!

What region held thee? whence, so much desired, 270 Art thou restored to us, consumed and tired With toils 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 G.o.ddess-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. 280 Take here her relics and her G.o.ds, to run With them thy fate, with them new walls expect, Which, toss'd on seas, thou shalt at last erect;'-- Then brings old Vesta from her sacred choir, Her holy wreaths, and her eternal fire.

Meanwhile the walls with doubtful cries resound From far (for shady coverts did surround My father's house); approaching still more near, The clash of arms, and voice of men we hear: Roused from my bed, I speedily ascend 290 The houses' tops, and listening there attend.

As flames roll'd by the winds' conspiring force, O'er full-ear'd corn, or torrent's raging course Bears down th'opposing oaks, the fields destroys, And mocks the ploughman's toil, th'unlook'd 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 Dephobus! Sigaean seas did shine Bright with Troy's flames; the trumpets' dreadful sound The louder groans of dying men confound. 301 Give me my arms, I cried, resolved to throw Myself 'mong any that opposed the foe: Rage, anger, and despair at once suggest, That of all deaths, to die in arms was best.

The first I met was Pantheus, Phoebus' priest, Who, 'scaping with his G.o.ds and relics, fled, And t'wards the sh.o.r.e his little grandchild led; 'Pantheus, what hope remains? what force, what place Made good? But, sighing, he replies, 'Alas! 310 Trojans we were, and mighty Ilium was; But the last period and the 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 Sinon flings about the flame, And thousands more than e'er from Argos came Possess the gates, the pa.s.ses, and the streets, 320 And these the sword o'ertakes, and those it meets.

The guard nor fights nor flies; their fate so near At once suspends their courage and their fear.'-- Thus by the G.o.ds, and by Atrides' words Inspir'd, I make my way through fire, through swords, Where noises, tumults, outcries, and alarms I heard; first Iphitus, renown'd for arms, We meet, who knew us (for the moon did shine) Then Ripheus, Hypanis, and Dymas join Their force, and young Choroebus, Mygdon's son, 330 Who, by the love of fair Ca.s.sandra won, Arrived but lately in her father's aid; Unhappy, whom the threats could not dissuade Of his prophetic 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 extremes? The state of our affairs You see: the G.o.ds have left us, by whose aid Our empire stood; nor can the flame be stay'd: 340 Then let us fall amidst our foes; this one Relief the vanquish'd have, to hope for none.'

Then reinforced, as in a stormy night Wolves urged by their raging appet.i.te Forage for prey, which their neglected young With greedy jaws expect, even so among Foes, fire, and swords, t'a.s.sured death we pa.s.s; Darkness our guide, Despair our leader was.

Who can relate that evening's woes and spoils, Or can his tears proportion to our toils? 350 The city, which so long had flourish'd, falls; Death triumphs o'er the houses, temples, walls.

Nor only on the Trojans fell this doom, Their hearts at last the vanquish'd rea.s.sume; 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 misplaced Thus greeting us, 'You lose, by your delay, Your share, both of the honour and the prey; 360 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 traveller's unwary foot hath press'd, Who trembling starts, when the snake's azure crest, Swoll'n with his rising anger, he espies, So from our view surprised Androgeus flies.

But here an easy victory we meet: Fear binds their hands and ignorance their feet. 370 Whilst fortune our first enterprise did aid, Encouraged with success, Choroebus 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 virtue 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. 380 Thus mix'd 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 G.o.ds conspire; Behold the royal virgin, the divine Ca.s.sandra, from Minerva's fatal shrine Dragg'd by the hair, casting t'wards heaven, in vain, Her eyes; for cords her tender hands did strain; 390 Choroebus at the spectacle enraged, Flies in amidst the foes: we thus engaged, To second him, among the thickest ran; Here first our ruin from our friends began, Who from the temple's battlements a shower Of darts and arrows on our heads did pour: They us for Greeks, and now the Greeks (who knew Ca.s.sandra's rescue) us for Trojans slew.

Then from all parts Ulysses, Ajax then, And then th'Atridae rally all their men; 400 As winds, that meet from sev'ral coasts, contest, Their prisons being broke, the south and west, And Eurus on his winged coursers borne, Triumphing in their speed, the woods are torn, And chasing Nereus with his trident throws The billows from their bottom; then all those Who in the dark our fury did escape, Returning, know our borrow'd arms and shape, And diff'ring dialect: then their numbers swell And grow upon us; first Choroebus fell 410 Before Minerva's altar, next did bleed Just Ripheus, whom no Trojan did exceed In virtue, yet the G.o.ds his fate decreed.

Then Hypanis and Dymas, wounded by Their friends; nor thee, Pantheus! thy piety, Nor consecrated mitre, from the same Ill fate could save. My country's fun'ral flame And Troy's cold ashes I attest, and call To witness for myself, that in their fall No foes, no death, nor danger I declin'd, 420 Did, and deserv'd no less, my fate to find.

Now Iphitus with me, and Pelias Slowly retire; the one r.e.t.a.r.ded was By feeble age, the other by a wound; To court the cry directs us, where we found Th' a.s.sault 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 placed Against the walls, the rest the steps ascend, 430 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. 440 A private gallery 'twixt th'apartments led, Not to the foe yet known, or not observed, (The way for Hector's hapless wife reserved, When to the aged king her little son She would present); through this we pa.s.s, 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; 450 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: meantime, 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 pois'nous herbs, all winter lay Under the ground, and now reviews the day, Fresh in his new apparel, proud and young, 460 Rolls up his back, and brandishes his tongue, And lifts his scaly breast against the sun; With him his father's squire, Automedon, And Peripas who drove his winged steeds, Enter the court; whom all the youth succeeds Of Scyros' isle, who naming firebrands flung Up to the roof; Pyrrhus himself among The foremost with an axe an entrance hews Through beams of solid oak, then freely views The chambers, galleries, and rooms of state, 470 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 women's shrieks and cries The arched vaults re-echo to the skies; Sad matrons wand'ring through the s.p.a.cious rooms Embrace and kiss the posts; then Pyrrhus comes; Full of his father, neither men nor walls His force sustain; the torn portcullis falls; Then from the hinge their strokes the gates divorce, 480 And where the way they cannot find, they force.

Not with such rage a swelling torrent flows Above his banks, th'opposing dams o'erthrows, Depopulates the fields, the cattle, sheep, Shepherds and folds, the foaming surges sweep.

And now between two sad extremes I stood, Here Pyrrhus and th'Atridae drunk with blood, There th'hapless queen amongst an hundred dames, 488 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, demolished lay, Or to the foe, or to the fire a prey.

Now Priam's fate perhaps you may inquire: Seeing his empire lost, his Troy on fire, And his own palace by the Greeks possess'd, Arms long disused his trembling limbs invest; Thus on his foes he throws himself alone, 500 Not for their fate, but to provoke his own: There stood an altar open to the view Of heaven, near which an aged laurel grew, Whose shady arms the household G.o.ds embraced, Before whose feet the queen herself had cast With all her daughters, and the Trojan wives, As doves whom an approaching tempest drives And frights into one flock; but having spied Old Priam clad in youthful arms, she cried, 'Alas! my wretched husband! what pretence 510 To bear those arms? and in them what defence?

Such aid such times require not, when again If Hector were alive, he lived in vain; Or here we shall a sanctuary find, Or as in life, we shall in death be join'd.'

Then, weeping, with kind force held and embraced, And on the secret seat the king she placed.

Meanwhile Polites, one of Priam's sons, Flying the rage of b.l.o.o.d.y Pyrrhus, runs Through foes and swords, and ranges all the court 520 And empty galleries, amazed and hurt; Pyrrhus pursues him, now o'ertakes, now kills, And his last blood in Priam's presence spills.

The king (though him so many deaths enclose) Nor fear, nor grief, but indignation shows; 'The G.o.ds 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 530 Thy father) so inhuman was to me; He blush'd, when I the rights of arms implored; To me my Hector, me to Troy, restored.'

This said, his feeble arm a jav'lin flung, Which on the sounding shield, scarce ent'ring, rung.

Then Pyrrhus; 'Go a messenger to h.e.l.l Of my black deeds, and to my father tell The acts of his degen'rate race.' So through His son's warm blood the trembling king he drew To th'altar; in his hair one hand he wreathes; 540 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 ruin, not a grave, Nor in such flames a fun'ral fire to have: He whom such t.i.tles swell'd, such power made proud, To whom the sceptres of all Asia bow'd, On the cold earth lies th'unregarded king, A headless carcase, and a nameless thing.

[1] 'Gave them gone': i.e., gave them up for gone.

ON THE EARL OF STRAFFORD'S TRIAL AND DEATH.