Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/119

I ask no farther. Aye, 'tis true,
I once was of the Danaan crew,
And levied war on Troy:
If all too deep that crime's red stain,
Then fling me piecemeal to the main
And 'mid the waves destroy.
If death is certain, let me die
By hands that share humanity.'
He ended, and before us flung
About our knees in suppliance clung.
His name, his race we bid him show
And what the story of his woe:
Anchises' self his hands extends
And bids the trembler count us friends.
Then by degrees he laid aside
His fear, and presently replied.

'From Ithaca, my home, I came,
And Achemenides my name,
The comrade of Ulysses' woes:
For Troy I left my father's door,
Poor Adamastus—both were poor—
Ah! would these fates had been as those!
Me, in their eager haste to fly
The scene of hideous butchery,
My unreflecting countrymen
Left in the Cyclop's savage den.
All foul with gore that banquet-room,
Immense and dreadful in its gloom.
He, lofty towering, strikes the skies
(Snatch him, ye Gods, from mortal eyes!):
No kindly look e'er crossed his face,
Ne'er oped his lips in courteous grace;
The limbs of wretches are his food:
He champs their flesh, and quaffs their blood.