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.