As they ranged Themselves for battle, eager, I addressed them: ‘O brave young hearts, it will do no good; no matter. Even if your will is fixed, to follow a leader Taking the final risk, you can’t help seeing The fortune of our state. The gods have gone, They have left their shrines and altars, and the power They once upheld is fallen. You are helping A town already burnt. So let us die, Rush into arms. One safety for the vanquished Is to have hope of none.’ They were young, and angry. Like wolves, marauders in black mist, whom hunger Drives blindly on, whose whelps, abandoned, wait them Dry-jawed, so we went on, through foes, through weapons, To certain death; we made for the heart of the city, Black night around us with its hollow shadow. Who could explain that night’s destruction, equal Its agony with tears? The ancient city, A power for many years, comes down, and corpses Lie littering the streets and homes and altars. Not only Trojans die. The old-time valor Returns to the vanquished heart, and the Greek victors Know what it is to fall. Everywhere sorrow, Everywhere panic, everywhere the image Of death, made manifold. Out of a crowd of Greeks comes one Androgeos, Thinking us allies, hailing us as friendly: ‘Why men, where have you been, you dawdling fellows? Hurry along! Here is plunder for the taking, Others are busy at it, and you just coming From the high ships!’ And then he knew he had blundered; He had fallen in with foes, who gave no answer. He stopped, stepped back, like a man who treads on a serpent Unseen in the rough brush, and then in panic Draws back as the purple neck swells out in anger. Even so, Androgeos pulled away in terror. We rush them, swarm all over them; they are frightened, They do not know their ground, and fortune favors Our first endeavor. Coroebus, a little crazy With nerve and luck, cries out: ‘Comrades, where fortune First shows the way and sides with us, we follow. Let us change our shields, put on the Grecian emblems! All’s fair in war: we lick them or we trick them, And what’s the odds?’ He takes Androgeos’ helmet, Whose plume streams over his head, takes up the shield With proud device, and fits the sword to his side. And Ripheus does the same, and so does Dymas, And all the others, happily, being armed With spoil, new-won. We join the Greeks, all going Under no gods of ours, in the night’s darkness Wade into many a fight, and Greeks by the dozens We send to hell. And some of them in panic Speed to the ships; they know that shore, and trust it, And some of them--these were the abject cowards-- Climb scrambling up the horse’s sides, again Take refuge in the womb.