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The Aeneid
The Aeneid
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The Aeneid


With both his hands he labors at the knots;

His holy fillets the blue venom blots;

His roaring fills the flitting air around.

Thus, when an ox receives a glancing wound,

He breaks his bands, the fatal altar flies,

And with loud bellowings breaks the yielding skies.

Their tasks perform’d, the serpents quit their prey,

And to the tow’r of Pallas make their way:

Couch’d at her feet, they lie protected there

By her large buckler and protended spear.

Amazement seizes all; the gen’ral cry

Proclaims Laocoon justly doom’d to die,

Whose hand the will of Pallas had withstood,

And dared to violate the sacred wood.

All vote t’ admit the steed, that vows be paid

And incense offer’d to th’ offended maid.

A spacious breach is made; the town lies bare;

Some hoisting-levers, some the wheels prepare

And fasten to the horse’s feet; the rest

With cables haul along th’ unwieldly beast.

Each on his fellow for assistance calls;

At length the fatal fabric mounts the walls,

Big with destruction. Boys with chaplets crown’d,

And choirs of virgins, sing and dance around.

Thus rais’d aloft, and then descending down,

It enters o’er our heads, and threats the town.

O sacred city, built by hands divine!

O valiant heroes of the Trojan line!

Four times he struck: as oft the clashing sound

Of arms was heard, and inward groans rebound.

Yet, mad with zeal, and blinded with our fate,

We haul along the horse in solemn state;

Then place the dire portent within the tow’r.

Cassandra cried, and curs’d th’ unhappy hour;

Foretold our fate; but, by the god’s decree,

All heard, and none believ’d the prophecy.

With branches we the fanes adorn, and waste,

In jollity, the day ordain’d to be the last.

Meantime the rapid heav’ns roll’d down the light,

And on the shaded ocean rush’d the night;

Our men, secure, nor guards nor sentries held,

But easy sleep their weary limbs compell’d.

The Grecians had embark’d their naval pow’rs

From Tenedos, and sought our well-known shores,

Safe under covert of the silent night,

And guided by th’ imperial galley’s light;

When Sinon, favor’d by the partial gods,

Unlock’d the horse, and op’d his dark abodes;

Restor’d to vital air our hidden foes,

Who joyful from their long confinement rose.