P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid
Theodore C. Williams, Ed.

Then loomed o'er Troy the apparition vast
of her dread foes divine; I seemed to see
all Ilium sink in fire, and sacred Troy,
of Neptune's building, utterly o'erthrown.
So some huge ash-tree on the mountain's brow
(when rival woodmen, heaving stroke on stroke
of two-edged axes, haste to cast her down)
sways ominously her trembling, leafy top,
and drops her smitten head; till by her wounds
vanquished at last, she makes her dying groan,
and falls in loud wreck from the cliffs uptorn.
I left the citadel; and, led by Heaven,
threaded the maze of deadly foes and fires,
through spears that glanced aside and flames that fell.