Like swarming bees, and with delight survey The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay: The quarters of the sev'ral chiefs they show'd; Here Phoenix, here Achilles, made abode; Here join'd the battles; there the navy rode. Part on the pile their wond'ring eyes employ: The pile by Pallas rais'd to ruin Troy. Thymoetes first ('t is doubtful whether hir'd, Or so the Trojan destiny requir'd)
Mov'd that the ramparts might be broken down, To lodge the monster fabric in the town.
But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind, The fatal present to the flames designed, Or to the wat'ry deep; at least to bore
The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore. The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide,
With noise say nothing, and in parts divide. Laocoon, follow'd by a num'rous crowd,
Ran from the fort, and cried, from far, aloud:
'O wretched countrymen! what fury reigns?
What more than madness has possess'd your brains? Think you the Grecians from your coasts are gone? And are Ulysses' arts no better known?
This hollow fabric either must inclose, Within its blind recess, our secret foes; Or 't is an engine rais'd above the town,
T' o'erlook the walls, and then to batter down. Somewhat is sure design'd, by fraud or force: Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.' Thus having said, against the steed he threw His forceful spear, which, hissing as flew,
Pierc'd thro' the yielding planks of jointed wood, And trembling in the hollow belly stood.
The sides, transpierc'd, return a rattling sound,
And groans of Greeks inclos'd come issuing thro' the wound
And, had not Heav'n the fall of Troy design'd, Or had not men been fated to be blind,
Enough was said and done t'inspire a better mind. Then had our lances pierc'd the treach'rous wood, And Ilian tow'rs and Priam's empire stood. Meantime, with shouts, the Trojan shepherds bring
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A captive Greek, in bands, before the king; Taken to take; who made himself their prey, T' impose on their belief, and Troy betray; Fix'd on his aim, and obstinately bent
To die undaunted, or to circumvent. About the captive, tides of Trojans flow; All press to see, and some insult the foe.
Now hear how well the Greeks their wiles disguis'd; Behold a nation in a man compris'd.
Trembling the miscreant stood, unarm'd and bound; He star'd, and roll'd his haggard eyes around,
Then said: 'Alas! what earth remains, what sea
Is open to receive unhappy me?
What fate a wretched fugitive attends,
Scorn'd by my foes, abandon'd by my friends?' He said, and sigh'd, and cast a rueful eye:
Our pity kindles, and our passions die.
We cheer youth to make his own defense, And freely tell us what he was, and whence: What news he could impart, we long to know, And what to credit from a captive foe.
"His fear at length dismiss'd, he said: 'Whate'er
My fate ordains, my words shall be sincere: I neither can nor dare my birth disclaim; Greece is my country, Sinon is my name. Tho' plung'd by Fortune's pow'r in misery,
'T is not in Fortune's pow'r to make me lie. If any chance has hither brought the name Of Palamedes, not unknown to fame,
Who suffer'd from the malice of the times, Accus'd and sentenc'd for pretended crimes, Because these fatal wars he would prevent;
Whose death the wretched Greeks too late lament-Me, then a boy, my father, poor and bare
Of other means, committed to his care, His kinsman and companion in the war.
While Fortune favor'd, while his arms support The cause, and rul'd the counsels, of the court, I made some figure there; nor was my name Obscure, nor I without my share of fame.
But when Ulysses, with fallacious arts,
Had made impression in the people's hearts, And forg'd a treason in my patron's name
(I speak of things too far divulg'd by fame), My kinsman fell. Then I, without support,
In private mourn'd his loss, and left the court. Mad as I was, I could not bear his fate
With silent grief, but loudly blam'd the state, And curs'd the direful author of my woes.
'T was told again; and hence my ruin rose.
I threaten'd, if indulgent Heav'n once more Would land me safely on my native shore, His death with double vengeance to restore.
This mov'd the murderer's hate; and soon ensued Th' effects of malice from a man so proud. Ambiguous rumors thro' the camp he spread, And sought, by treason, my devoted head;
New crimes invented; left unturn'd no stone,
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To make my guilt appear, and hide his own;
Till Calchas was by force and threat'ning wrought-But why-why dwell I on that anxious thought?
If on my nation just revenge you seek, And 't is t' appear a foe, t' appear a Greek; Already you my name and country know;
Assuage your thirst of blood, and strike the blow: My death will both the kingly brothers please,
And set insatiate Ithacus at ease.'
This fair unfinish'd tale, these broken starts, Rais'd expectations in our longing hearts: Unknowing as we were in Grecian arts.
His former trembling once again renew'd, With acted fear, the villain thus pursued:
"'Long had the Grecians (tir'd with fruitless care, And wearied with an unsuccessful war)
Resolv'd to raise the siege, and leave the town; And, had the gods permitted, they had gone; But oft the wintry seas and southern winds
Withstood their passage home, and chang'd their minds. Portents and prodigies their souls amaz'd;
But most, when this stupendous pile was rais'd: Then flaming meteors, hung in air, were seen, And thunders rattled thro' a sky serene. Dismay'd, and fearful of some dire event, Eurypylus t' enquire their fate was sent.
He from the gods this dreadful answer brought: "O Grecians, when the Trojan shores you sought, Your passage with a virgin's blood was bought:
So must your safe return be bought again,
And Grecian blood once more atone the main." The spreading rumor round the people ran;
All fear'd, and each believ'd himself the man. Ulysses took th' advantage of their fright; Call'd Calchas, and produc'd in open sight:
Then bade him name the wretch, ordain'd by fate
The public victim, to redeem the state. Already some presag'd the dire event, And saw what sacrifice Ulysses meant.
For twice five days the good old seer withstood Th' intended treason, and was dumb to blood, Till, tir'd, with endless clamors and pursuit
Of Ithacus, he stood no longer mute; But, as it was agreed, pronounc'd that I Was destin'd by the wrathful gods to die.
All prais'd the sentence, pleas'd the storm should fall
On one alone, whose fury threaten'd all.
The dismal day was come; the priests prepare
Their leaven'd cakes, and fillets for my hair.
I follow'd nature's laws, and must avow
I broke my bonds and fled the fatal blow.
Hid in a weedy lake all night I lay, Secure of safety when they sail'd away.
But now what further hopes for me remain, To see my friends, or native soil, again;
My tender infants, or my careful sire, Whom they returning will to death require; Will perpetrate on them their first design,