Countless and cunning Trojan horses have entered the
Web-Journals and their objective is to destroy the future, what stands for
Tomorrow. But here is a warning from the watchful owl deeply keeping guard on
things in the preciousness of the night.
The owl hooted
in the mocking night: “Beware
Of Trojan
horses set in brutal woods,
’neath thick branches
of thought. They’re built in moods
Born of artful
ends, and in the least care
Things that
are to the growing spirit fair;
Deep silence
in which the magic word broods
Is unknown to
them; instead they prize goods
Synthetic, hurtful,
swift masters of malware.
Seems they’re
here to advance deceit, on the net
Spread
disinformation; they will debunk
You, working
night and day in shifty times.
They’ve no flowing
manes, of scruples, and you’d get
Tricked by
these schemers in the wooden trunk,
Beware! They
would sue even gods for fake crimes.”
RY Deshpande
15 June 2009
First introduced by Virgil with a kind of finesse that
speaks very highly of the ancient warriors, here is an acceptable Trojan Horse in
Drydens’ translation. Its cunning is praiseworthy and honest resourcefulness,
of doing things by noble and heroic people—unlike the way things happen on the quarrelling
web-pages these days, witness vis-à-vis The
Lives of Sri Aurobindo, the accusations and counter-accusations hurled by
the warring tribes—as if they are all an insufferable lot. This has got to be
redeemed.
By destiny compell'd, and in despair,
The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,
And by Minerva's aid a fabric rear'd,
Which like a steed of monstrous height appear'd:
The sides were plank'd with pine; they feign'd it made
For their return, and this the vow they paid.
Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side
Selected numbers of their soldiers hide:
With inward arms the dire machine they load,
And iron bowels stuff the dark abode. ...
Laocoon, follow'd by a num'rous crowd,
Ran from the fort, and cried, from far, aloud:
“O wretched countrymen! What fury reigns?
What more than madness has possess'd your brains?
Think you the Grecians from your coasts are gone?
And are Ulysses' arts no better known?
This hollow fabric either must inclose,
Within its blind recess, our secret foes;
Or 'tis an engine rais'd above the town,
T' o'erlook the walls, and then to batter down.
Somewhat is sure design'd, by fraud or force:
Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.”
The subterfuge to deceive the Trojans was thought out,
of course, by Athena herself, but was put into operation by the conniving and clever
Odysseus. The gigantic wooden horse was designed and built by the artist Epeius
and, when ready, a select number of Greek warriors climbed inside it. The rest
of the Greek fleet pretended to sail away, back to their shores. The horse was
left behind as a parting gift for the Trojans. Sinon, one of the accomplices, stayed
behind to reassure the marvelling enemy not to worry about the horse, and that
they could take it inside the city. Laocoon and Cassandra warned about the
danger but, as usual, they were ignored. On the other hand, even as those
thousand ships started sailing away, there were wild celebrations inside the
guarded city and the treacherous gift was taken inside it. The moment of
destiny had arrived and soon Sinon signalled the warriors hiding in the trunk
of the wooden horse to jump out and attend to the short work they had planned with
great care, in the manner of the Athenian perfection. Priam was killed and the
city was set on fire.
The Burning of