Book 2
sways ominously her trembling, leafy top,
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and drops her smitten head; till by her wounds
vanquished at last, she makes her dying groan,
and falls in loud wreck from the cliffs uptorn.
I left the citadel; and, led by Heaven,
threaded the maze of deadly foes and fires,
through spears that glanced aside and flames that fell.
Soon came I to my father's ancient seat,
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our home and heritage. But lo! my sire
(whom first of all I sought, and first would bear
to safe asylum in the distant hills)
vowed he could never, after fallen Troy,
live longer on, or bear an exile's woe.
“O you,” he cried, “whose blood not yet betrays
the cruel taint of time, whose powers be still
unpropped and undecayed, go, take your flight.
If heavenly wrath had willed my life to spare,
this dwelling had been safe. It is too much
that I have watched one wreck, and for too Iong
outlived my vanquished country. Thus, O, thus!
Compose these limbs for death, and say farewell.
My own hand will procure it; or my foe
will end me of mere pity, and for spoil
will strip me bare. It is an easy loss
to have no grave. For many a year gone by,
accursed of Heaven, I tarry in this world
a useless burden, since that fatal hour
when Jove, of gods the Sire and men the King,
his lightnings o'er me breathed and blasting fire.”
Such fixed resolve he uttered o'er and o'er,
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and would not yield, though with my tears did join
my spouse Creusa, fair Ascanius,
and our whole house, imploring the gray sire
not with himself to ruin all, nor add
yet heavier burdens to our crushing doom.
He still cried, “No!” and clung to where he sat
and to the same dread purpose. I once more
back to the fight would speed. For death alone
I made my wretched prayer. What space was left
for wisdom now? What chance or hope was given?
