y hair.
I fled, 'tis true, and saved my life by flight,
Bursting my bonds in frenzy of despair,
And hidden in a marish lay that night,
Waiting till they should sail, if sail, perchance, they might.

XIX. "'No hope have I my ancient fatherland,
Or darling boys, or long-lost sire to see,
Whom now perchance, the Danaans will demand,
Poor souls! for vengeance, and their death decree,
To purge my crime, in daring to be free.
O by the gods, who know the just and true,
By faith unstained,--if any such there be,--
With mercy deign such miseries to view;
Pity a soul that toils with evils all undue.'

XX. "So, moved at length to pity by his tears,
We spare him. Priam bids the cords unbind,
And thus with friendly words the captive cheers;
'Whoe'er thou art, henceforward blot from mind
The Greeks, and leave thy miseries behind.
Ours shalt thou be; but mark, and tell me now,
What means this monster, for what use designed?
Some warlike engine? or religious vow?
Who planned the steed, and why? Come, quick, the truth avow.'

XXI. "Then schooled in cunning and Pelasgian sleights,
His hands unshackled to the stars he spread;
'Ye powers inviolate, ever-burning lights!
Ye ruthless swords and altars, which I fled,
Ye sacred fillets, that adorned my head!
Freed is my oath, and I am free to lay
Their secrets bare, and wish the Danaans dead.
Thou, Troy, preserved, to Sinon faithful stay,
If true the tale I tell, if large the price I pay.

XXII. "'All hopes on Pallas, since the war begun,
All trust was stayed. But when Ulysses, fain
To weave new crimes, with Tydeus' impious son
Dragged the Palladium from her sacred fane,
And, on the citadel the warders slain,
Upon the virgin's image dared to lay
Red hands of slaughter, and her wreaths profane,
Hope ebbed and failed them from that fatal day,
The Danaans' strength grew weak, the goddess turned away.

XXIII. "'No dubious signs Tritonia's wrath declared.
Scarce stood her image in the camp, when bright
With flickering flames her staring eyeballs glared.
Salt sweat ran down her; thrice, a wondrous sight!
With shield and quivering spear she sprang upright.
"Back o'er the deep," cries Calchas; "nevermore
Shall Argives hope to quell the Trojan might,
Till, homeward borne, new omens ye implore,
And win the blessing back, which o'er the wa