ves ye bore."

XXIV. "'So now to Argos are they gone, to gain
Fresh help from heaven, and hither by surprise
Shall come once more, remeasuring the main.
Thus Calchas warned them; by his words made wise
This steed, for stol'n Palladium, they devise,
To soothe the outrag'd goddess. Tall and great,
With huge oak-timbers mounting to the skies,
They build the monster, lest it pass the gate,
And like Palladium stand, the bulwark of the State.

XXV. "'"Once had your hands," said Calchas, "dared profane
Minerva's gift, dire plagues" (which Heaven forestall
Or turn on him) "should Priam's realm sustain;
But if by Trojan aid it scaled your wall,
Proud Asia then should Pelops' sons enthrall,
And children rue the folly of the sire."'
His arts gave credence, and forced tears withal
Snared us, whom Diomede, nor Achilles dire,
Nor thousand ships subdued, nor ten years' war could tire.

XXVI. "A greater yet and ghastlier sign remained
Our heedless hearts to terrify anew.
Laocoon, Neptune's priest, by lot ordained,
A stately bull before the altar slew,
When lo!--the tale I shudder to pursue,--
From Tenedos in silence, side by side,
Two monstrous serpents, horrible to view,
With coils enormous leaning on the tide,
Shoreward, with even stretch, the tranquil sea divide.

XXVII. "Their breasts erect they rear amid the deep,
Their blood-red crests above the surface shine,
Their hinder parts along the waters sweep,
Trailed in huge coils and many a tortuous twine;
Lashed into foam, behind them roars the brine;
Now, gliding onward to the beach, ere long
They gain the fields, and rolling bloodshot eyne
That blaze with fire, the monsters move along,
And lick their hissing jaws, and dart a flickering tongue.

XXVIII. "Pale at the sight we fly; unswerving, these
Glide on and seek Laocoon. First, entwined
In stringent folds, his two young sons they seize,
With cruel fangs their tortured limbs to grind.
Then, as with arms he comes to aid, they bind
In giant grasp the father. Twice, behold,
Around his waist the horrid volumes wind,
Twice round his neck their scaly backs are rolled,
High over all their heads and glittering crests unfold.

XXIX. "Both hands are labouring the fierce knots to pull;
Black gore and slime his sacred wreaths distain.
Loud are his moans, as when a wounded bull