No More Learning

" Thus speaking, he next dons the plumed helmet and
beautifully blazoned shield of Androgeus, and fits the Argive sword to
his side. So does Rhipeus, so Dymas in like wise, and all our men in
delight arm themselves one by one in the fresh spoils. We advance,
mingling with the Grecians, under a protection not our own, and join
many a battle [398-432]with those we meet amid the blind night; many a
Greek we send down to hell. Some scatter to the ships and run for the
safety of the shore; some in craven fear again climb the huge horse, and
hide in the belly they knew. Alas that none may trust at all to
estranged gods!

'Lo! Cassandra, maiden daughter of Priam, was being dragged with
disordered tresses from the temple and sanctuary of Minerva, straining
to heaven her blazing eyes in vain; her eyes, for fetters locked her
delicate hands. At this sight Coroebus burst forth infuriate, and flung
himself on death amid their columns. We all follow him up, and charge
with massed arms. Here first from the high temple roof we are
overwhelmed with our own people's weapons, and a most pitiful slaughter
begins through the fashion of our armour and the mistaken Greek crests;
then the Grecians, with angry cries at the maiden's rescue, gather from
every side and fall on us; Ajax in all his valour, and the two sons of
Atreus, and the whole Dolopian army: as oft when bursting in whirlwind
West and South clash with adverse blasts, and the East wind exultant on
the coursers of the Dawn; the forests cry, and fierce in foam Nereus
with his trident stirs the seas from their lowest depth. Those too
appear, whom our stratagem routed through the darkness of dim night and
drove all about the town; at once they know the shields and lying
weapons, and mark the alien tone on our lips. We go down, overwhelmed by
numbers. First Coroebus is stretched by Peneleus' hand at the altar of
the goddess armipotent; and Rhipeus falls, the one man who was most
righteous and steadfast in justice among the Teucrians: the gods' ways
are not as ours: Hypanis and Dymas perish, pierced by friendly hands;
nor did all thy goodness, O Panthus, nor Apollo's fillet protect thy
fall. O ashes of Ilium and death flames of my people! you I call to
witness that in your ruin I [433-465]shunned no Grecian weapon or
encounter, and my hand earned my fall, had destiny been thus.
We tear
ourselves away, I and Iphitus and Pelias, Iphitus now stricken in age,
Pelias halting too under the wound of Ulysses, called forward by the
clamour to Priam's house.

'Here indeed the battle is fiercest, as if all the rest of the fighting
were nowhere, and no slaughter but here throughout the city, so do we
descry the war in full fury, the Grecians rushing on the building, and
their shielded column driving up against the beleaguered threshold.
Ladders cling to the walls; and hard by the doors and planted on the
rungs they hold up their shields in the left hand to ward off our
weapons, and with their right clutch the battlements. The Dardanians
tear down turrets and the covering of the house roof against them; with
these for weapons, since they see the end is come, they prepare to
defend themselves even in death's extremity: and hurl down gilded beams,
the stately decorations of their fathers of old. Others with drawn
swords have beset the doorway below and keep it in crowded column. We
renew our courage, to aid the royal dwelling, to support them with our
succour, and swell the force of the conquered.

'There was a blind doorway giving passage through the range of Priam's
halls by a solitary postern, whereby, while our realm endured, hapless
Andromache would often and often glide unattended to her father-in-law's
house, and carry the boy Astyanax to his grandsire. I issue out on the
sloping height of the ridge, whence wretched Teucrian hands were hurling
their ineffectual weapons. A tower stood on the sheer brink, its roof
ascending high into heaven, whence was wont to be seen all Troy and the
Grecian ships and Achaean camp: attacking it with iron round about,
where the joints of the lofty flooring yielded, we wrench it from its
deep foundations and shake it free; it gives way, and [466-498]suddenly
falls thundering in ruin, crashing wide over the Grecian ranks. But
others swarm up; nor meanwhile do stones nor any sort of missile
slacken. . . . Right before the vestibule and in the front doorway
Pyrrhus moves rejoicingly in the sparkle of arms and gleaming brass:
like as when a snake fed on poisonous herbs, whom chill winter kept hid
and swollen underground, now fresh from his weeds outworn and shining in
youth, wreathes his slippery body into the daylight, his upreared breast
meets the sun, and his triple-cloven tongue flickers in his mouth. With
him huge Periphas, and Automedon the armour-bearer, driver of Achilles'
horses, with him all his Scyrian men climb the roof and hurl flames on
the housetop. Himself among the foremost he grasps a poleaxe, bursts
through the hard doorway, and wrenches the brazen-plated doors from the
hinge; and now he hath cut out a plank from the solid oak and pierced a
vast gaping hole.