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The Aeneid
The Aeneid
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The Aeneid


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,

’Tis 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.

’Twas 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,

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 ’tis t’appear a foe, t’appear a Greek;

Already you my name and country know;