And the sky turned, and darkness Came from the ocean, the great shade covering earth And heaven, and the trickery of the Greeks. Sprawling along the walls, the Trojans slumbered, Sleep holding their weary limbs, and the Greek armada, From Tenedos, under the friendly silence Of a still moon, came surely on. The flagship Blazed at the masthead with a sudden signal, And Sinon, guarded by the fates, the hostile Will of the gods, swung loose the bolts; the Greeks Came out of the wooden womb. The air received them The happy captains, Sthenelus, Ulysses, Thessandrus, Acamas, Achilles’ son Called Neoptolemus, Thoas, Machaon, Epeos, who designed the thing,--they all Came sliding down the rope, and Menelaus Was with them in the storming of a city Buried in sleep and wine. The watch was murdered, The open doors welcome the rush of comrades, They marshal the determined ranks for battle. It was the time when the first sleep begins For weary mortals, heaven’s most welcome gift. In sleep, before my eyes, I seemed to see Hector, most sorrowful, black with bloody dust, Torn, as he had been, by Achilles’ car, The thong-marks on his swollen feet. How changed He was from that great Hector who came, once, Triumphant in Achilles’ spoil, from hurling Fire at the Grecian ships. With ragged beard, Hair matted with his blood, wearing the wounds He earned around the walls of Troy, he stood there. It seemed that I spoke first:--‘O light of Troy, Our surest hope, we have long been waiting for you, What shores have kept you from us? Many deaths, Much suffering, have visited our city, And we are tired. Why do I see these wounds? What shame has caused them?’ Those were foolish questions; He made no answer but a sigh or a groan, And then: ‘Alas, O goddess-born! Take flight, Escape these flames! The enemy has the walls, Troy topples from her lofty height; enough Has been paid out to Priam and to country. Could any hand have saved them, Hector’s would have. Troy trusts to you her household gods, commending Her holy things to you; take them, companions Of destiny; seek walls for them, and a city To be established, a long sea-wandering over.’ From the inner shrine he carried Vesta’s chaplets In his own hands, and her undying fire.