een their defence. Troy commends to thee her holy things and household
gods; take them to accompany thy fate; seek for them a city, which,
after all the seas have known thy wanderings, thou shalt at last
establish in [296-327]might." So speaks he, and carries forth in his
hands from their inner shrine the chaplets and strength of Vesta, and
the everlasting fire.

'Meanwhile the city is stirred with mingled agony; and more and more,
though my father Anchises' house lay deep withdrawn and screened by
trees, the noises grow clearer and the clash of armour swells. I shake
myself from sleep and mount over the sloping roof, and stand there with
ears attent: even as when flame catches a corn-field while south winds
are furious, or the racing torrent of a mountain stream sweeps the
fields, sweeps the smiling crops and labours of the oxen, and hurls the
forest with it headlong; the shepherd in witless amaze hears the roar
from the cliff-top. Then indeed proof is clear, and the treachery of the
Grecians opens out. Already the house of Deiphobus hath crashed down in
wide ruin amid the overpowering flames; already our neighbour Ucalegon
is ablaze: the broad Sigean bay is lit with the fire. Cries of men and
blare of trumpets rise up. Madly I seize my arms, nor is there so much
purpose in arms; but my spirit is on fire to gather a band for fighting
and charge for the citadel with my comrades. Fury and wrath drive me
headlong, and I think how noble is death in arms.

'And lo! Panthus, eluding the Achaean weapons, Panthus son of Othrys,
priest of Phoebus in the citadel, comes hurrying with the sacred vessels
and conquered gods and his little grandchild in his hand, and runs
distractedly towards my gates. "How stands the state, O Panthus? what
stronghold are we to occupy?" Scarcely had I said so, when groaning he
thus returns: "The crowning day is come, the irreversible time of the
Dardanian land. No more are we a Trojan people; Ilium and the great
glory of the Teucrians is no more. Angry Jupiter hath cast all into the
scale of Argos. The Grecians are lords of the burning [328-362]town.
The horse, standing high amid the city, pours forth armed men, and Sinon
scatters fire, insolent in victory. Some are at the wide-flung gates,
all the thousands that ever came from populous Mycenae. Others have
beset the narrow streets with lowered weapons; edge and glittering point
of steel stand drawn, ready for the slaughter; scarcely at the entry do