“‘Often have the Danaans designed to turn their back on Troy and accomplish a retreat, and abandon the war 20 that had wearied them so long; and would they had done it! As often has the fierce inclemency of the deep barred their purpose, and the south wind frightened them from sailing. Especially, when this horse was set up at last, a compacted mass of maple planks, the thunder of the storm-clouds 25 was heard the whole firmament over. In our perplexity we send Eurypylus to inquire of Phœbus’[127] oracle, and this is the gloomy message that he brings back from the shrine: “With blood it was ye appeased the winds, even with a maiden’s slaughter, when first ye came, Danaans, 30 to the shore of Ilion. With blood it is ye must buy your return, and propitiate heaven by the life of an Argive!” Soon as the news reached the public ear, every mind was cowed, and a cold shudder thrilled the depth of every heart. For whom has Fate a summons? Whom does 35 Apollo demand as his prey? And now the Ithacan, with boisterous vehemence, drags forward the prophet Calchas, insists on knowing what that announcement of heaven’s will may mean; and many even then were the prophetic mouths that warned me of the trickster’s cruel villany, and many the eyes that silently foresaw the future. Ten days the seer holds his peace, and keeps his tent, refusing to utter a word that should, disclose any name or sacrifice 5 any life. At last, goaded by the Ithacan’s vehement clamour, he breaks into a concerted utterance, and dooms me to the altar. All assented, well content that the danger which each feared for himself should be directed to the extinction of one poor wretch. And now the day of horror 10 was come; all was being ready for my sacrifice—the salt cakes for the fire, and the fillet to crown my brow—when I escaped, I own it, from death, and broke my bonds, and hid myself that night in a muddy marsh in the covert of the rushes, while they should be sailing, in the 15 faint hope that they had sailed. My old country, I never expect to see it again, nor my darling children, and the father I have longed so for! No! they are likely to visit them with vengeance for my escape, and expiate this guilt of mine by taking their poor lives. O! by the 20 gods above, and the powers that know when truth is spoken, if there is yet abiding anywhere among men such a thing as unsullied faith, I conjure you, have pity on this weight of suffering, have pity on a soul that is unworthily borne down!’ 25