O Hector, who weeps not to hear thy name?
AENEAS. Yet flung I forth, and, desperate of my life,
Ran in the thickest throngs, and with this sword
Sent many of their savage ghosts to hell.
At last came Pyrrhus, fell and full of ire,
His harness dropping blood, and on his spear
The mangled head of Priam's youngest son,
And after him his band of Myrmidons,
With balls of wild fire in their murdering paws,
Which made the funeral flame that burnt fair Troy
All which hemmed me about, crying, "this is he."
DIDO. Ah, how could poor Aeneas scape their hands?
AENEAS. My mother, Venus, jealous of my health,
Conveyed me from their crooked nets and bands.
So I escaped the furious Pyrrhus' wrath,
Who then ran to the palace of the king,
And at Jove's altar finding Priamus,
About whose withered neck hung Hecuba,
Folding his hand in hers, and jointly both
Beating their breasts and falling on the ground,
He, with his falchion's point raised up at once,
And with Megaera's eyes, stared in their face,
Threat'ning a thousand deaths at every glance.
To whom the aged king thus, trembling, spoke:
"Achilles' son, remember what I was,
Father of fifty sons, but they are slain;
Lord of my fortune, but my fortune's turned;
King of this city, but my Troy is fired;
And now am neither father, lord, nor king.
Yet who so wretched but desires to live?
O, let me live, great Neoptolemus!"
Not moved at all, but smiling at his tears,
This butcher, whilst his hands were yet held up,
Treading upon his breast, struck off his hands.
DIDO. O end, Aeneas! I can hear no more.
AENEAS. At which the frantic queen leaped on his face,
And in his eyelids hanging by the nails,
A little while prolonged her husband's life.
At last the soldiers pulled her by the heels
And swung her howling in the empty air,
Which sent an echo to the wounded king,
Whereat he lifted up his bed-rid limbs,
And would have grappled with Achilles' son,
Forgetting both his want of strength and hands,
(Which he disdaining, whisk'd his sword about,)
And with the wind thereof the king fell down.
Then from the navel to the throat at once
He ripped old Priam, at whose latter gasp
Jove's marble statue 'gan to bend the brow,
As loathing Pyrrhus for this wicked act.
Yet he, undaunted, took his father's flag
And dipped it in the old king's chill cold blood,
And then in triumph ran into the streets,
Through which he could not pass for slaughtered men.
So, leaning on his sword, he stood stone still,
Viewing the fire wherewith rich Ilion burned.
By this, I got my father on my back,
This young boy in mine arms, and by the hand
Led fair Creusa, my beloved wife.
When thou, Achates, with thy sword mad'st way,
And we were round environed with the Greeks,
O there I lost my wife, and had not we
Fought manfully, I had not told this tale.
Yet manhood would not serve. Of force we fled,
And as we went unto our ships, thou knowest
We saw Cassandra sprawling in the streets,
Whom Ajax ravished in Diana's fane,
Her cheeks swollen with sighs, her hair all rent,
Whom I took up to bear unto our ships.
But suddenly the Grecians followed us,
And I, alas, was forced to let her lie.
Then got we to our ships, and being aboard,
Polyxena cried out, "Aeneas, stay!
The Greeks pursue me. Stay and take me in!"
Moved with her voice, I leaped into the sea,
Thinking to bear her on my back aboard,
For all our ships were launched into the deep,
And as I swum, she, standing on the shore,
Was by the cruel Myrmidons surprised
And after by that Pyrrhus sacrificed.
DIDO.