My father, peering through the gloom,
Cries 'Haste, my son! O haste! they come:
I see their shields, their glittering mail.'
'Twas then, alas! some power unkind
Bereft me of my wildered mind.
While unfrequented paths I thread,
And shun the roads that others tread,
My wife Creusa—did she stray,
Or halt exhausted by the way?
I know not—parted from our train,
Nor ever crossed our sight again.
Nor e'er my eyes her figure sought,
Nor e'er towards her turned my thought,
Till when at Ceres' hallowed spot
We mustered, she alone was not,
And her companions, spouse and son,
Looked round, and saw themselves undone.
Ah, that sad hour! whom spared I then,
In my wild grief, of gods and men?
What woe, in all the town o'erthrown,
Thought I more cruel than my own?
My father and my darling boy,
And, last not least, the gods of Troy,
To my retainers I confide
And in the winding valley hide,
While to the town once more I go,
And shining armour round me throw,
Resolved through Troy to measure back
From road to road[errata 1] my perilous track.
First to the city's shadowed gate
I turn me, whence we passed so late,
My footsteps through the darkness trace,
And cast my eyes from place to place.
A shuddering on my spirit falls,
And e'en the silence' self appals.
