n the water, as savage

As even their eyes: now a blinding beam kindles the billows,

The sea with their hissing is sibilant! All stare in terror!

Laocoon's twin sons in Phrygian raiment are standing

With priests wreathed for sacrifice. Them did the glistening serpents

Enfold in their coils! With their little hands shielding their faces,

The boys, neither thinking of self, but each one of his brother!

Fraternal love's sacrifice! Death himself slew those poor children

By means of their unselfish fear for each other! The father,

A helper too feeble, now throws himself prone on their bodies:

The serpents, now glutted with death, coil around him and drag him

To earth! And the priest, at his altar a victim, lies beating

The ground. Thus the city of Troy, doomed to sack and destruction,

First lost her own gods by profaning their shrines and their worship.

The full moon now lifted her luminous beam and the small stars

Led forth, with her torch all ablaze; when the Greeks drew the bolts

And poured forth their warriors, on Priam's sons, buried in darkness

And sodden with wine. First the leaders made trial of their weapons

Just as the horse, when unhitched from Thessalian neck-yoke,

First tosses his head and his mane, ere to pasture he rushes.

They draw their swords, brandish their shields and rush into the battle.

One slays the wine-drunken Trojans, prolonging their dreams

To death, which ends all. Still another takes brands from the altars,

And calls upon Troy's sacred temples to fight against Trojans."

CHAPTER THE NINTIETH.

Some of the public, who were loafing in the portico, threw stones at the
reciting Eumolpus and he, taking note of this tribute to his genius,
covered his head and bolted out of the temple. Fearing they might take
me for a poet, too, I followed after him in his flight and came to the
seashore, where we stopped as soon as we were out of range. "Tell me,"
I demanded, "what are you going to do about that disease of yours?
You've loafed with me less than two hours, and you've talked more often
like a poet than you have like a human being! For this reason, I'm not
at all surprised that the rabble chases you with rocks. I'm going to
load my pockets with stones, too, and whenever you begin to go out of
your head, I'm going to let blood out of it!" His expression changed.
"My dear young man," said he, "today is not the first time I have had
such com