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Ah! Ah!
What delight to breathe the pure air of the fields!
After ten years spent within our walls,
ah, what delight to breathe the pure air of the fields,
which will nevermore be rent by the noise of battle.
- Look at these remains! A spearhead! - I've found a helmet!
- And I two javelins! - Look at this huge shield!
A man could float on it over the waves.
What cowards these Greeks are!
Do you know whose tent stood on this very spot?
No, tell us. Whose was it?
- Achilles'. - Ye gods!
Don't run away, brave fellows.
Achilles is dead.
You can see his tomb: here it is.
So it is.
Paris delivered us from that murderous monster.
Have you seen the wooden horse
which the Greeks built before they set sail for Aulis?
This immense horse, their offering to Pallas,
could hold a battalion in its enormous entrails.
The walls are being levelled.
This evening we are going to drag it into the city.
They say the king is shortly coming to look at it.
- Where is it, then? - On the banks of the Scamander.
We must see it at once.
Quick, quick! The horse, the horse!
The Greeks have vanished.
But what dread plan
lies hidden behind this strangely sudden departure?
Everything bears out my grim forebodings!
I saw Hector's spirit
pacing our ramparts like a nightwatchman.
I saw his darkened eyes
staring far off
towards the straits of Sigeum...
Woe betide them!
Drunk with madness the people leave the city,
Priam at their head!
Ill-fated king!
The die is cast:
down to everlasting night you must go.
You heed me not,
ill-fated race,
nor wish to understand
the terror that haunts me.
Alas, Coroebus too, Coroebus himself
thinks me out of my mind.
At the thought of him my dread redoubles.
God! Coroebus!
He loves me, I love him.
But there will be no marrying for me,
no love, no joyful hymns,
no more tender dreams of happiness.
The fate that bears me down
must be submitted to: there is no escape.
Ill-fated king!
The die is cast:
down to everlasting night you must go.
You heed me not,
ill-fated race,
nor wish to understand
the terror that haunts me.
Coroebus!
He must leave the Troad.
It is he!
When all Troy is loud with rejoicing
you flee the festive halls
for the woods and fields, pensive nymph of the trees!
They are anxious about you.
Ah! I cannot tell you
the hideous dread that fills my soul!
- Cassandra! - Leave me! - Come!
Go, I entreat you!
I, go? Leave you?
When the most sacred tie...
It is the hour of our death, not of our happiness.
Come back to yourself, beloved maiden.
Cease to prophesy and you will cease to fear.
Raise your eyes aloft
towards the azure sky
and let your soul find peace,
let your heart hope anew.
The sky is full of menace!
Believe my voice
inspired by the same cruel god who is bent on our destruction.
I have read it in the book of destiny.
I see the cloud of evil
unloosed on us all!
I see it falling on Troy!
The people crying out, helpless before its fury,
and staining our streets red with their blood,
the half-naked virgins in the arms of their ravishers,
uttering screams to pierce the skies!
Already from the highest tower
the grim vulture croaks of slaughter!
Everything is falling,
everything drowning in a river of blood,
and in your side a Greek spear! Ah!
Poor unhappy soul!
Come back to yourself, beloved maiden.
Cease to prophesy and you will cease to fear.
Even now death hovers in the air.
- Gaze upwards - I have seen the cold glint
- to the azure sky, look, - of his murderous eye on us.
and let your soul be at peace,
let your heart hope again.
If you love me, go. Leave.
Go to your father,
give him in his old age the support that he needs
and which we are beyond needing.
Were these evils really to fall on us,
dear distracted creature,
how would my father regard me
if I abandoned my betrothed at the moment of danger?
But all earth and heaven
are witness to your error:
war is forgotten.
This warmth of the breeze's soft breath,
the sea breaking with gentle swell
on the headlands of Tenedos,
the contented flocks browsing on the rolling plain,
the cheerful shepherd singing
and the joyful birds: all seem united
beneath the vault of heaven
to proclaim a universal hymn of peace.
These signs deceive you. This calm is a lie!
Even now Death hovers in the air.
I have seen the cold glint
of his murderous eye on us.
Leave us tonight, hear me, I implore you.
Dawn must not find you within our walls.
Terror chokes me, my heart is breaking!
Go tonight, go tonight!
Leave you tonight! Cassandra, I adore you!
Save me, I implore you, from hopeless despair.
Do you want to destroy me?
Have you no pity that you can say :
Go tonight, go tonight!
If you once thought me worthy of your noble love, Coroebus,
then go!
By the gods of heaven and Hades,
Cassandra, you must listen to me.
I clasp your knees, Cassandra!
I cannot resist such grief.
Merciless gods!
Leave you tonight!
- Cassandra, I adore you! - Hear me, I implore you.
- Save me, I implore you, - Dawn must not find you
- from hopeless despair. - within our walls.
- Do you want to destroy me? - Terror chokes me,
- Have you no pity that you can say : - my heart is breaking!
Go tonight, go tonight!
- Go! - Cassandra!
Ah, my heart is breaking!
- Go tonight! - Oh, despair!
Blind and deaf like the rest!
You are bent on sacrificing yourself to your fatal love?
I will not leave you!
So the dread day will see you fighting beside my brothers?
I will not leave you!
So be it!
Then take my hand
and my chaste bride's kiss
and stay!
Envious Death
makes ready our nuptial bed for tomorrow.
Come! Come!
Gods who watch our eternal city
receive our incense
and hear the joyful voice
of your faithful people.
Divine beings,
from whom our deliverance has come,
god of Olympus, god of the seas,
rulers of the universe,
accept the gifts
that we offer in gratitude.
Gods who watch our eternal city
receive our incense
and hear the joyful voice
of your faithful people.
God of Olympus! God of the seas!
Andromache and her son!
Oh, fate!
The shouts of our public rejoicing
and this immense sorrow, this profound loss,
these silent griefs!
Wives and mothers weep at the sight.
Alas, keep your tears, widow of Hector.
Disasters soon to come
will make you weep long and bitterly.
O king, a throng of soldiers and people
is pouring towards us like a torrent:
nothing can stop them!
An unheard-of portent has filled them with panic.
Laocoön, suspecting some hideous trick in the Greeks' handiwork,
hurled his javelin with fearless arm against the wooden flank
and urged the fickle and uncertain crowd to set fire to the horse.
At that, swollen with rage,
two monstrous serpents
came straight towards the shore
and attacked the priest,
entwined him in their dreadful coils,
blasted him with their fiery breath,
covered him with bloody slaver
and devoured him before our eyes.
Awful punishment!
Mysterious horror!
At this appalling tale
my blood freezes in my veins.
- Awful punishment! - A thrill of terror
- Mysterious horror! - runs through my whole being.
Laocoön, a priest,
object of the gods' wrath,
devoured alive...
devoured alive by those hideous monsters!
Awful punishment!
Oh, pitiful people!
Mysterious horror!
At this appalling tale my blood freezes in my veins.
Laocoön, a priest,
object of the gods' wrath,
devoured alive by those hideous monsters!
Horror!
May the goddess protect us.
We must ward off this new danger.
It is too true: Pallas has avenged a shocking sacrilege.
To appease her, carry out my orders without delay.
The horse has already been skilfully hoisted on to wheels.
It stands waiting for all of us to go
and bring it with pomp to Minerva's temple!
Let children, women, and warriors
escort the holy object
and strew its path with flowers all the way into Troy.
And let the trumpet and the lyre join your songs.
- Doom! Doom! - Pallas, forgive Troy!
- Doom! Doom! - Ha, ha, ha!
No, I shall not watch their pitiful rejoicing,
this doomed people
drunk with the hopes of a dazzling future,
plunging to destruction, alas, with nothing that can stop them.
Oh, bitter memories!
Glory!
The glory of my country!
And to see vanish
my cherished dream of purest happiness!
Oh, Coroebus, oh, Priam!
I can resist no more.
Tears of anguish flow down unhindered.
Beloved daughter of the king of gods,
- Can it be true? - armed with helmet and spear,
- Can I believe my ears? - wise warrior with gentle eyes,
- The sacred hymn of Ilium! - look kindly on our destiny.
Make Ilium impregnable.
What? The procession already?
Fair Pallas, protect us.
I see it in the distance.
The enemy comes.
The enemy comes and the city is open.
This blind people rushing to its ruin
seems to have anticipated its king's command.
- Beloved daughter of the king of gods, - Pallas!
- armed with helmet and spear, - Pallas,
- wise warrior with gentle eyes! - protect us!
Hear our voices, divine maiden,
- Their chanting grows louder! - to the sound of the flutes of Dindyma,
mingling with the noblest of songs.
Let the Phrygian trumpet
and the Trojan lyre
- The great engine rolls onwards. - carry our faithful music to you!
There it is!
Beloved daughter of the king of gods,
armed with helmet and spear,
wise warrior with gentle eyes!
Smiling garland around the offering,
dance, happy children!
Spread on the branches the scented snow
of springtime lily-of-the-valley.
Pallas,
protect us!
Spread on the branches the scented snow
of springtime...
- What is it? - Jupiter!
- Why this sudden panic spreading? - They are hesitating!
The crowd grows restless!
From the womb of the monster came a clash of arms.
They are stopping.
- Gods! If... - A happy omen!
Children, sing! Let the joyful flame
blaze forth in triumph from the heights of Pergamon!
Stop, stop! Yes, fire, an axe!
Search the monstrous horse!
Laocoön! The Greeks! It hides a deadly trap.
My voice grows faint!
All hope has gone! Great gods, you have no pity
for this demented people!
O noble exercise of omnipotence,
to lead them blindfold to the abyss!
They enter. It is done.
Fate has seized its victim.
Sister of Hector, go, die beneath the ruins of Troy!
O light of Troy,
pride of the Trojans,
after all the labours of your fellow citizens,
from what unknown bourne do you come?
What veil seems to cloud your noble eyes, Hector?
What sorrows have ravaged your face?
Ah! Fly, son of Venus!
The enemy is within our walls!
From its high summit all Troy is falling!
A hurricane of flame is rolling from temple to palace
with clouds of choking smoke.
We had done enough to save our country
but for the decree of fate.
Pergamon entrusts to you its children and its gods.
Go, seek Italy,
where, for your people reborn,
after long wanderings over the sea,
you are to found a mighty empire
destined in the future to rule the world
and where a hero's death awaits you.
What hope is left, Panthus?
Where should we fight? Where turn?
The blood-soaked town is ablaze!
Our last day has come. Priam is no more.
The Greeks came out of the monstrous horse
and murdered the sentries at the gates.
Already they have come in hordes from outside the city,
pouring in on all sides, fanning the flames
lit with foul deceit by their chiefs.
Others control the ramparts.
Oh, father! Ucalegon's palace is falling,
its roof is a melting torrent of red-hot rain!
- Come with us, Ascanius! - To arms, great Aeneas!
Come, the beleaguered Citadel is still holding out.
We must reach it at all costs.
Ready to face death, let us strive to defend ourselves.
One safety the vanquished have: to hope for none.
One safety the vanquished have: to hope for none.
Do you hear the crash of falling towers,
the roar of the flames, the yells of the Greeks?
They grow in number all the time.
To battle! Despair will direct our blows.
Ready to face death, let us strive to defend ourselves.
One safety the vanquished have: to hope for none.
Mars! Erinyes! Lead us!
Mighty Cybele,
immortal goddess,
mother of the wretched,
send help to your Trojan sons,
bless their endeavours
in this dread hour!
Save from violation and from slavery
their mothers and sisters.
Shatter evil's impious weapons
in the conquerors' hands.
Mighty Cybele,
immortal goddess,
Cybele, mother of the wretched,
send help to your Trojan sons,
bless their endeavours
in this dread hour!
Not all shall perish.
The valiant Aeneas led his men three times back to the fray.
They have relieved our brave citizens beleaguered in the Citadel.
Priam's treasure is in Trojan hands.
Soon, in Italy, where destiny calls them,
they will see, stronger and fairer,
a new Troy arise.
They are marching towards Ida.
- What of Coroebus? - He is dead.
Cruel gods!
For the last time I bow down at the altar of Vesta.
I follow my young husband.
Yes, now must end my fruitless life.
Worthy to be Hector's sister!
Prophetess whom Troy accused of madness!
Yesterday there was time to save us
when she predicted this utter catastrophe.
Soon Troy will be no more.
Oh, despair! Oh, regrets! Oh, vain regrets!
But you, frightened doves,
can you consent to the horrors of slavery?
And will you, virgins, submit as women defiled
to the brutal laws of conquest?
Must we banish all hope from our hearts?
Hope? Oh, wretched creatures!
In this garish darkness do you not see, do you not hear
the savage Myrmidons running wild in our streets
and others guarding the approaches to the palace?
All is lost, nothing can save us from their ***.
Nothing, do you say? If honour inspires you,
for whom, then, does this gulf open below you?
For whom this weapon and these silk cords
if not for you, women of Troy?
Heroine inspired by love and honour, you are right! We will follow you.
Dawn will not find you defiled by the Greeks?
No, Cassandra, we swear it!
You will not be seen dragged behind them in triumph?
Never! Never! We will die with you.
Partaking in her glory by sharing her fate,
by our death we will tarnish the Greeks' victory.
Pure and free we lived.
On this fatal night we will go down pure and free
to the river of death.
You who tremble
and say nothing,
do you hesitate?
Ah! I am afraid!
What?
You would submit to a base existence, unworthy of noble hearts?
Alas!
To die so soon!
Go and tend the table and the bed of your masters!
- Slaves, leave us! - Mercy! - Shame on you!
Go down to those villains,
throw yourselves at their feet, clasp their knees!
Go, live,
Thessalians!
Shame upon you! Out!
You are not Trojan women! Out!
Cassandra, we will die with you.
They will not see us defiled by the Greeks
nor dragged behind them in triumph.
No, no, never, we swear it.
Partaking in her glory by sharing her fate,
by our death we will tarnish the Greeks' victory.
Pure and free we lived.
On this fatal night we will go down pure and free
to the river of death.
- Dark Pluto, open for us - Coroebus! Hector! Priam!
- the gates of Tenarus! - King! Father! Brother! Lover!
- Charon, let resound - I rejoin you.
- your sombre fanfare! - Hear their oath, you gods of Hades.
- Partaking in my glory - What! Lyres in their hands!
- by sharing my fate, - Against my will I am struck
- by your death you will tarnish - by the sublime irony
- the Greeks' victory. - of their magnificent fervour!
- Pure and free we lived. - Cassandra! How beautiful she looks
- On this fatal night - as she sings of death,
- we will go down pure and free - a blue-eyed Bacchante
- to the river of death. - drunk with her own music!
The treasure! The treasure!
Hand over the treasure!
We scorn your cowardly threats,
monsters drunk with blood, vile and predatory crew!
You will not quench your thirst for gold, you robbers!
There! Pain is nothing!
The gods are against us! Oh, fury! Covered in blood,
from the midst of the slaughter Aeneas and his Trojans have escaped our blows.
They have the treasure, they are getting away!
In spite of you they are already on their way to Ida
and we defy your rage.
Save their sons, Aeneas!
Italy! Italy!
The heavens seem to bless Carthage on its festive day.
Has such a day ever been seen
after so terrible a storm?
Has such a day ever been seen?
What a gentle breeze!
Our blazing sun with its rays subdues the tempest.
At the sight of it the vast plain quivers with delight.
The sun advances
lighting up the glow of nature at its awakening.
Glory to Dido,
our beloved queen!
Queen by her beauty,
grace and genius,
queen by the favour of the gods,
and queen by the love of her happy subjects.
Scarcely seven years have passed
since the day when, to foil the hatred
of the tyrant who murdered my noble husband,
I had to flee with you from Tyre to the African shore,
and already we see Carthage arise,
her fields blossom, her fleet built!
Already from far-off lands where the sun rises
you, toilers on the sea, bring back
corn, wine, wool, iron
and the products of arts still unknown to us.
Dear Tyrians,
your noble and unstinting toil
has gladdened my heart with justifiable pride.
But do not relax your efforts,
follow the sovereign voice
of the god who calls you to fresh endeavours!
Give one more example to the earth :
great in peace, in war become a nation of heroes.
Great in peace, in war we shall become a nation of heroes.
The sullen Iarbas seeks to impose on me the yoke of a hateful marriage.
His insolence is vain.
My defence is in your hands and the gods'.
Glory to Dido, our beloved queen!
Every one of us is ready to give our lives for her.
We will all defend her.
We defy Iarbas and his insolence and rage
and we will drive this Numidian savage far back into his deserts!
Dear Tyrians,
yes, your noble and unstinting toil
has gladdened my heart with justifiable pride.
We will all defend her.
Be you/We shall be proud and happy!
Follow /Let us follow the sovereign voice
of the god who calls you/us to fresh endeavours!
Follow /Let us follow the sovereign voice
of the god who calls you/us
to fresh endeavours!
This fair day,
which must live for ever in your memories,
I marked out to celebrate the works of peace.
Draw near, builders,
sailors, farmworkers.
Receive from my hand the just reward
of labours that give life and strength to the realm.
My people! All honour to the greatest of the arts,
the art that nourishes men!
Long live the farmworkers!
We are their grateful sons; they give us bread.
O Ceres!
The future of Carthage is assured!
Glory to Dido, our beloved queen!
Every one of us is ready to give their lives for her.
Let us provide her with fresh proofs of our love.
Farmers, sailors, let us create a nation of heroes!
Glory to Dido,
our beloved queen!
Queen by her beauty,
grace and genius,
queen by the favour of the gods,
and queen by the love of her happy subjects.
These happy chants,
the sight of this splendid festival,
have brought peace back to my troubled heart.
I breathe again, my sister.
Yes, my joy is unalloyed,
I have found calm and tranquillity again.
Queen of a young empire,
which grows more prosperous
every day,
adored queen,
whom the world admires,
what fears can have disturbed you for a moment?
A strange sadness, without cause, as you know,
sometimes oppresses me.
I am powerless to resist this weakness,
a vague unease in my breast, a chill of fear,
my cheeks burn and hot tears scald them.
You will love, my sister.
No, all new passion is irrevocably forbidden to my heart.
- You will love, my sister. - No.
No, a faithful widow must subdue her soul,
subdue her soul and abhor love.
Dido, you are queen and too young, too beautiful
not to bow to this gentle law.
Carthage needs a king.
May the gods and my people curse me
if I ever forsake this consecrated ring!
Such oaths bring a smile,
bring a smile to the lovely Venus.
The gods refuse
to record them in the book of fate.
Her words arouse in my breast a dangerous delight.
Already, in my weakness, I struggle vainly
against a vague hope.
My words arouse in her breast dreams of tender passion.
Already, in her weakness, she tries vainly to resist
sweet hopes of love.
O Sychaeus my husband, forgive me...
Dido, my gentle sister, forgive me
- ...this moment of unwilling delusion, - if I dispel a cherished delusion,
- and may your memory - forgive me if my words
- drive far from my heart - excite in your heart
the unease which perturbs it.
- Sychaeus, ah, forgive me! - Dido, my sister, forgive me!
- Forgive me, my husband! - Forgive me, my gentle sister!
Queen, emissaries from an unknown fleet,
narrowly escaped from the raging sea,
crave admittance before you.
The doors of my palace are never closed to suppliants such as these.
Wandering on the seas, was I too not tossed
from shore to shore on the *** of the storm,
the sport of the salty waves?
Alas, I know the strength of fate's blows
on those whom it strikes.
To feel for the unfortunate is easy for us.
He who has known suffering
cannot look on when others suffer.
I feel a sudden keen impatience to see them
yet in my heart I fear their coming.
Revered queen, a wandering and unhappy people
ask you for shelter for a few days.
At your feet I lay these precious gifts,
all that is left of their greatness, now offered you by my weak hand
in the name of Jupiter by their god-fearing chief.
Fair child, tell me his name and race.
O queen,
our way was stained with blood
from the mountains of Phrygia down to the sea.
This sceptre belonged to Iliona, daughter of King Priam.
This crown was Hecuba's
and this light veil glistening with gold, Helen's.
They must tell you plainly enough that we are Trojans.
Trojans!
Our chief is Aeneas.
I am his son.
Strange fate!
Obedient to the king of gods, the hero seeks Italy,
where fate holds out for him a glorious end
and the happiness of giving his own a homeland.
Who does not admire this prince, great Hector's friend?
Who has yet to hear his famous name?
Carthage is full of it.
Tell him my harbour is open to his ships and awaits him.
Let him come
and let him forget with you, at my court,
his toil and tribulation.
I can hardly speak the dreadful news!
What has happened?
The stubborn Numidian, the fierce Iarbas,
with hordes of soldiers is advancing on Carthage.
The barbarous army is butchering our flocks
and laying waste our fields.
Arms! Give us arms!
But worse, the city itself is threatened.
Our young warriors are full of ardour
but they are short of weapons.
What are you saying, Narbal?
That we shall be fighting against heavy odds.
Queen,
I am Aeneas.
My fleet, which the winds have driven on to your shores,
was destined by me for arduous toil.
Permit the Trojans
to fight alongside you.
I accept such an alliance with pride.
Aeneas armed for my defence!
The gods have taken our part.
O my sister, how superb he is, this son of the goddess!
And what grace and nobility are on his brow!
Against this vile horde of Africans let us march, Trojans and Tyrians!
Let us sweep to victory side by side!
Like sand scattered by the wind
let us drive the Numidian in confusion back to his scorching deserts!
Let him tremble!
The god Mars unites us!
The god Mars unites us!
The son of Venus leads you/us into battle!
Wipe out/Let us wipe out the black army
and tomorrow let the shame and death of Iarbas
be proclaimed far and wide!
Announce to our Trojans the new adventure
to which glory calls them.
Queen, soon from the hateful barbarian you will be delivered.
In your generous care I leave behind my son.
Do not doubt I will look after him with a mother's love.
Come, embrace your father.
Others, my child, will instruct you in the art of happiness.
I myself will teach you only the courage of a fighting man
and respect for the gods.
But honour in your heart and keep fast in your memory
the examples of the glory of Aeneas and of Hector.
Arms! Give us arms!
Against this vile horde of Africans
march/let us march, Trojans and Tyrians!
Sweep/Let us sweep to victory side by side!
Like sand scattered by the wind
let us drive the Numidian in confusion back to his scorching deserts!
Let him tremble!
The god Mars unites you/us,
the son of Venus leads you/us into battle!
Wipe out/Let us wipe out the black army
and tomorrow let the shame and death of Iarbas
be proclaimed far and wide!
Arms! Give us arms!
Ao ao ao ao ao!
Italy! Italy!
Ha!
Say, Narbal, what is it that alarms you?
Are not the war and its miseries at an end?
Were not our arms triumphantly successful,
the Tyrians victorious?
We have nothing more to fear from that quarter.
The Numidians have been driven back to their desert
and will not come near our walls again.
The dread sword of the invincible hero
has delivered us from Iarbas.
But Dido is now forgetting
the enterprises that were once dear to her heart.
She spends her time in hunting and feasting,
building has stopped, the workshops stand empty,
the Trojan stays on in Carthage.
That is why I am anxious and the people feel it, too.
Do you not see, Narbal,
that she loves him, this proud warrior,
and that he on his side returns my sister's love?
- What! - What disaster can come
from their passion?
Could Dido have a more valiant husband
or Carthage a more great-hearted king?
But inexorable fate calls Aeneas to Italy.
One voice tells him: Go!
The other voice cries: Stay!
The greatest of the gods is Love.
What disaster do you hold in store for Carthage,
dark future?
I see flickers of lightning dart forth
from the heart of your cloud.
Jupiter, god of the hospitable,
in practising the virtue that is dear to you
have we deserved
the blows of your anger?
Vain are your fears.
Carthage is triumphant!
Our charming queen is in love with a victorious hero,
a garland of flowers entwines them.
Soon they will be united.
Such is the disaster your dark future has in store.
Ha! Ha!
Amaloué.
Midonaé.
Faï caraïmé.
Deï beraimbé.
Enough, my sister:
I can scarcely bear these unwelcome festivities.
Iopas, sing for us,
in a gentle and simple mode, your poem of the fields.
I obey the queen's command.
O golden Ceres, when to our fields
you grant their adornment of fresh young crops,
one day astonish the world with their destruction!