ged on, till in Troy's inmost turret it stood;
There long did they ponder in anxious debate
What to do with the steed as around it they sate.

Then before them three several counsels were laid:
Into pieces to hew it by the edge of the blade;
Or to draw it forth thence to the brow of the rock,
And downward to fling it with shivering shock;
Or, shrined in the tower, let it there make abode
As an offering to ward off the anger of God.
The last counsel prevail'd; for the moment of doom,
When the town held the horse, upon Ilium had come.

The Argives in ambush awaited the hour
When slaughter and death on their foes they should shower.
When it came, from their hollow retreat rushing down
The sons of th' Achivi smote sorely the town.
Then, scattered, on blood and on ravaging bent,
Through all parts of the city chance-guided they went.
And he sung how Odysseus at once made his way
To where the proud towers of Deiphobus lay.

With bold Menelaus he thitherward strode,
In valour in equal to War's fiery god,
Then fierce was the fight--dread the deeds that were done,
Till, aided by Pallas, the battle he won.
So sung the rapt Minstrel the blood-stirring tale,
But the check of Odysseus waxed deadly and pale;
While the song warbled on of the days that were past,
His eyelids were wet with the tears falling fast.[54]"

If we go on twaddling thus about the Greeks and Romans, we shall lose
the thread of our discourse, and possibly be found tripping on the
subject of Wolf's _Prolegomena_. Let us, therefore, get back as fast as
we can to the Moderns.

Unless the poet is imbued with a deep sympathy for his subject, we would
not give sixpence for his chance of producing a tolerable ballad. Nay,
we go further, and aver that he ought when possible to write in the
unscrupulous character of a partisan. In historical and martial ballads,
there always must be two sides; and it is the business of the poet to
adopt one of these with as much enthusiasm and prejudice, as if his life
and fortunes depended upon the issue of the cause. For the ballad is the
reflex of keen and rapid sensation, and has nothing to do with judgment
or with calm deliberative justice. It should embody, from beginning to
end, one fiery absorbing passion, such as men feel when their blood is
up, and their souls thoroughly roused within them; and we should as soon
think