Metamorphoses

BOOK XII

BOOK XII The Invasion of Troy But Priam mourned for Aesacus, not knowing He lived, a winged creature. To the tomb That bore his name Hector brought sacrifice, So did the other brothers, all but Paris, Who, not long after, brought upon his country Long warfare over the woman he had stolen. A thousand ships were launched, and all the Greeks, Banded together, followed, and they would have Taken their vengeance sooner, but the storms Made the sea pathless, and Boeotia held them, Impatient, at the little port of Aulis. When here, as always, they had gotten ready Their sacrifice for Jove, just as the altar Glowed with the lighted fires, they saw a serpent, Blue-green in color, creeping up a plane-tree Above them, toward a nest, high up, which held Eight fledglings. These, together with the mother, Flying too close to her doomed brood, the serpent Seized and devoured. Amazement seized the people, But the augur Calchas saw the meaning clearly: "Rejoice, 0 Greeks: we shall win the war, and Troy 285 286 BOOK TWELVE lines 20-47 Go down before us, but our task will be Of long duration: the nine birds mean nine years." Meanwhile the serpent, coiled around the branches, Was changed to stone, and the stone kept the form Of the twining serpent. Nereus continued Boisterous over the waves; he would not carry The war across the sea, and there were people Who thought that Neptune, who had built the walls Of Troy, was therefore bound to spare the city. Calchas knew better, and said so: virgin blood Must satisfy the virgin goddess' anger. The common cause was stronger than affection, The king subdued the father; Agamemnon Led Iphigenia to the solemn altar, And while she stood there, ready for the offering Of her chaste blood, and even the priests were weeping, Diana yielded, veiled their eyes with cloud, And even while the rites went on, confused With darkness and the cries of people praying, Iphigenia was taken, and a deer Left in her place as victim, so the goddess Was satisfied; her anger and the ocean's Subsided, and the thousand ships responded To the fresh winds astern and, with much trouble, Came to the Phrygian shores. There is a place At the world's center, triple boundary Of land and sky and sea. From here all things, No matter what, are visible; every word Comes to these hollow ears. Here Rumor dwells, Her palace high upon the mountain-summit, With countless entrances, thousands on thousands, And never a door to close them. Day and night The halls stand open, and the bronze re-echoes, Repeats all words, redoubles every murmur. INV ASION OF TROY 287 There is no quiet, no silence anywhere, No uproar either, only the subdued Murmur of little voices, like the murmur Of sea-waves heard far-off, or the last rumble Of thunder dying in the cloud. The halls Are filled with presences that shift and wander, Rumors in thousands, lies and truth together, Confused, confusing. Some fill idle ears With stories, others go far-off to tell What they have heard, and every story grows, And each new teller adds to what he hears. Here is Credulity, and reckless Error, Vain Joy, and panic Fear, sudden Sedition, Whispers that none can trace, and she, their goddess, Sees all that happens in heaven, on land, on ocean, Searching the world for news. She spread the tidings That the Greek fleet was coming, and brave armies, And so the Trojans, dressed in readiness, Received them at their shores. Protesilaus Was first to fall, so the fates willed, when Hector Let fly the deadly spear. The early fighting Cost the Greeks dear, and Hector gave them lessons In how to kill. And Trojans learned those lessons In blood, and Sigean shores were turned to crimson. Cygnus, the son of Neptune, slew his thousands; Achilles, in his car, rode through the Trojans Leveling columns with his spear, and seeking Cygnus or Hector. Hector was denied him Till the tenth year, but he did meet with Cygnus, Urged on his horses, whose white necks were straining Against the yoke, rode down his enemy, Brandished his spear, and cried: "Whoever you are, o youth, take this for comfort in your dying: It was Achilles of Thessaly who killed you." After the taunt, the spear. It did not swerve, 288 BOOK...