I was near the gates, and thinking we had made it, But there was a sound, the tramp of marching feet, And many of them, it seemed; my father, peering Through the thick gloom, cried out:--‘Son, they are coming! Flee, flee! I see their shields, their gleaming bronze.’ Something or other took my senses from me In that confusion. I turned aside from the path, I do not know what happened then. Creusa Was lost; she had missed the road, or halted, weary, For a brief rest. I do not know what happened, She was not seen again; I had not looked back, Nor even thought about her, till we came To Ceres’ hallowed home. The count was perfect, Only one missing there, the wife and mother. Whom did I not accuse, of gods and mortals, Then in my frenzy? What worse thing had happened In the city overthrown? I left Anchises, My son, my household gods, to my companions, In a hiding-place in the valley; and I went back Into the city again, wearing my armor, Ready, still one more time, for any danger. I found the walls again, the gate’s dark portals, I followed my own footsteps back, but terror, Terror and silence were all I found. I went On to my house. She might, just might, have gone there. Only the Greeks were there, and fire devouring The very pinnacles. I tried Priam’s palace; In the empty courtyards Phoenix and Ulysses Guarded the spoils piled up at Juno’s altar. They had Trojan treasure there, loot from the altars, Great drinking-bowls of gold, and stolen garments, And human beings. A line of boys and women Stood trembling there. I took the risk of crying through the shadows, Over and over, ‘Creusa!’ I kept calling, ‘Creusa!’ and ‘Creusa!’ but no answer. No sense, no limit, to my endless rushing All through the town; and then at last I saw her, Or thought I did, her shadow a little taller Than I remembered. And she spoke to me Beside myself with terror:--‘O dear husband, What good is all this frantic grief? The gods Have willed it so, Creusa may not join you Out of this city; Jupiter denies it. Long exile lies ahead, and vast sea-reaches The ships must furrow, till you come to land Far in the West; rich fields are there, and a river Flowing with gentle current; its name is Tiber, And happy days await you there, a kingdom, A royal wife. Banish the tears of sorrow Over Creusa lost. I shall never see The arrogant houses of the Myrmidons, Nor be a slave to any Grecian woman; I am a Dardan woman; I am the wife Of Venus’ son; it is Cybele who keeps me Here on these shores. And now farewell, and love Our son.’ I wept, there was more to say; she left me, Vanishing into empty air. Three times I reached out toward her, and three times her image Fled like the breath of a wind or a dream on wings.