Fall 2006 • Vol. XXVIII No. 4 PoetryOctober 1, 2006 |

Excerpts from “The Aeneid” – The Death of Priam

From the Latin.       "Perhaps you wonder how Priam met his end.When he saw his city stormed and seized, his gateswrenched apart, the enemy camped in his palace depths,the old man dons his armor long unused, he clamps itround his shoulders shaking with age and, all for nothing,straps his useless sword to his hip, then makesfor the thick of battle, out to meet his death.At the heart of the house an ample altar stood,naked under the skies,an ancient laurel bending over the shrine,embracing our household gods within its shade.Here, flocking the altar, Hecuba and her daughtershuddled, blown headlong down like doves by a black storm—clutching, all for nothing, the figures of their gods.Seeing Priam decked in the arms he'd worn as a young man,'Are you insane?' she cries. 'Poor husband, what impels youto strap that sword on now? Where are you rushing?Too late for such defense, such help. Not evenmy own Hector, if he came to the rescue now…Come to me, Priam. This altar w

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