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"O set the sails, for Troy, for Troy
is fallen,
And Helen cometh home;
O set the sails, and all the Phryigian winds
Breathe us across the foam!
O set the sails unto the golden West!
It is o'er, the bitter strife.
At the last the father cometh to the son,
And the husband to the wife."
Stephen Phillips
PARIS, the son of Priam King of Troy, carried off to his
father’s royal city Helen, the wife of Menelaus, King of
Sparta, his friend and host. To avenge this wrong and to rescue
Helen, Menelaus and the rest of the chiefs of the Grecian states
banded together and sailed for Troy. For ten years they laid
siege to the strong-walled city, and during that time many deeds
of valour were done by Greek and Trojan chieftains.
At last the Greeks grew weary of the tedious war, and resolved
to and it if they could by a stratagem. With the help of the
goddess Minerva they built a wooden horse of monstrous size, and
within its hollow sides they hid a number of picked warriors
armed and ready for the fray. Then they sailed away as if for
home, but when they reached the remoter shore of the Isle of
Tenedos, which lay within sight of Troy, they hid their ships
from sight and waited the issue of their deeply-laid plot.
The Trojans, cooped within their walls so long, unbarred their
gates and issued in a throng like swarming bees. In huge delight
they saw the Grecian camp deserted, and visited the now empty
tents of the departed heroes. With wondering eyes they gazed upon
the great wooden horse, and one of them proposed that the
ramparts of the city should be broken down in order to admit the
fabric; but others, more cautious, said that it ought rather to
be destroyed either by fire or by being cast into the sea; at
least, said one, they might bore the hollow sides of the
monstrous beast and find out what was within.
Then there came running from the city one named Laocoon,
followed by a numerous crowd. "O wretched countrymen," he
cried, "what madness possesses you? Think you the Grecians are
gone from your coasts? Are the wiles of Ulysses no better known
to you? This hollow fabric either encloses a party of our foes or
it is an engine raised above the town to overlook the walls, and
then to batter them down. Some harm to us it is surely intended
to accomplish, either by fraud or force. Trust not the Grecian
gift nor admit the horse within our walls." As he finished
speaking he flung his spear against the steed, and, hissing
through the air, it pierced the yielding planks of jointed wood
and stood trembling in the body of the monster. The sides
returned a rattling sound, and groans came from within. But the
Trojans marked them not, fated as they were to fall a prey to the
Grecians.
Meanwhile the Trojan shepherds had brought before their King a
Greek whom they had found and taken captive. The man stood
unarmed and trembling, staring and rolling his haggard eyes
around. "Alas!" he cried, "what fate awaits a wretched
fugitive, scorned by his foes and forsaken by his friends?" So
he spoke, and, speaking, sighed, and the passion of his Trojan
captors changed to pity for his woes. They spoke words of cheer
to him, and urged him to tell them who he was and whence he came.
The man’s fears for a moment forsook him, and he said:
"Whatever happens, my words shall be sincere. Greece is my
country, Sinon is my name. Assuage your thirst of blood and
strike the blow." Once more he trembled in all his limbs, and
with faltering tongue he told his story.
"The Greeks, wearied with an unsuccessful war, resolved some
time ago to raise the siege and leave the town, but the wintry
seas and southern winds prevented them. Moreover, the signs of
the heavens dismayed them—flaming meteors hung in the air and
thunders rattled through a cloudless sky. With fearful hearts
their leaders sought the gods, and were told that a human
sacrifice was required of them if they wished for a safe return
to their homes. The news soon spread among the people, and each
with fear believed himself to be the one ordained to die.
"Calchas the soothsayer was consulted, and after much urging
he unwillingly said that I was the man chosen by the angry gods
for death. The others praised the sentence, and made ready to
carry it out. But, having broken my bonds I fled and lay in
hiding till they sailed away. And now what remains for me,
wretched man that I am?"
The captive’s story moved the Trojans with fresh pity. The
King ordered his fetters to be unbound, and said to him:
"Dismiss thy fears. Forget the Greeks. But tell me truly, was
it for force or guile, or for some religious purpose, that the
Grecians raised this monster?"
"Ye lamps of heaven," replied the captive, lifting high
his hands, "and all ye powers on high, forgive me for revealing
the purpose of my countrymen. It was to gain the favor of the
goddess of Minerva that we built this wondrous frame, making it
too lofty to pass through your gates, lest the blessing it may
bring from the goddess should not be ours, but yours. For if it
be taken the walls of Troy the Greeks will one day bow before the
Trojans."
Then a strange and terrible thing happened which filled the
breasts of the Trojans with dismay. Laocoon, the priest of
Neptune, the sea-god, had offered on the shore an ox as a
sacrifice, when, looking towards the sea, the people saw two
serpents ranked abreast sweep towards them across the water,
lifting their flaming crests on high. Soon they reached the
shore, and quickly moved across the plain, brandishing their
forked tongues and licking their hissing jaws, which spluttered
flame.
The crowd fled amazed, and the monsters moved towards Laocoon
and his children. Quickly they wound themselves round the tenders
bodies of the boys, and then the father, running to their help,
was likewise encircled by their loathsome bodies, and with his
children crushed to death. Their work completed, the serpents
moved towards the wooden horse and reclined at its feet, having
wreaked the vengeance of the goddess on the man who dared to
fling his spear at her sacred tower.
Then the people demanded that the horse should be brought
within the city walls, and that offerings should be made to the
offended goddess. At once spacious breach was made in the
rampart; some brought levers, others wheels for fitting to the
horse’s feet, others hauled the unwieldy beast along with
ropes, and at length by united efforts it was brought within the
wall. Boys crowned with chaplets and bands of maidens danced
around, while the monster was dragged through the breach and well
within the city’s bounds, and so great was the zeal and
excitement of the people that not even the clashing sounds of
armour and groans of men which came from within were marked by
them.
The rejoicings lasted throughout the day, and when night had
fallen the Trojans, now secure from foes, laid themselves down to
rest, setting no guards and keeping no watch. Meanwhile the
Greeks once more embarked, sailed back from Tenedos, and sought
again the Trojan shores. Then Sinon the deceiver unlocked the
side of the wooden horse and released the Grecian warriors,
joyful to find their long confinement ended. They quickly slid
down the cable to the ground, among them the injured Menelaus and
Ulysses, the crafty ruler of Ithaca—
"A mighty spearsman and a seaman wise, A hunter, and at need a lord of lies." The rest is soon told. The gates were opened to the waiting
Greeks, and the town, oppressed with sleep and wine, surprised
and taken. So
"Ruined Troy became the
Grecian’s prey,
And Ilium’s lofty towers in ashes lay."
Told from Dryden's translation of
Virgil’s "Æneid," Book II.
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