But when Ulysses, with fallacious arts, Had made impression in the people’s hearts, And forg’d a treason in my patron’s name (I speak of things too far divulg’d by fame), My kinsman fell.
The gods, and Jove himself, behold in vain Triumphant treason; yet no thunder flies, Nor Juno views my wrongs with equal eyes; Faithless is earth, and faithless are the skies!
Ambiguous rumors thro’ the camp he spread, And sought, by treason, my devoted head; New crimes invented; left unturn’d no stone, To make my guilt appear, and hide his own; Till Calchas was by force and threat’ning wroughtBut why— why dwell I on that anxious thought?
For twice five days the good old seer withstood Th’ intended treason, and was dumb to blood, Till, tir’d, with endless clamors and pursuit Of Ithacus, he stood no longer mute; But, as it was agreed, pronounc’d that I Was destin’d by the wrathful gods to die.
Wrath, Terror, Treason, Tumult, and Despair (Dire faces, and deform’d) surround the car; Friends of the god, and followers of the war.