Whom doth Apollo claim, whose death the Fates demand?

XVII. "'Then straight Ulysses, 'mid tumultuous cries,
Drags Calchas forth, and bids the seer unfold
The dark and doubtful meaning of the skies.
Many e'en then the schemer's crime foretold,
And, silent, saw my destiny unrolled.
Ten days the seer, as shrinking to reply
Or name a victim, did the doom withhold;
Then, forced by false Ulysses' clamorous cry,
Spake the concerted word, and sentenced me to die.

XVIII. "'All praised the sentence, pleased that one alone
Should suffer, glad that one poor wretch should bear
The doom that each had dreaded for his own.
The fatal day was come; the priests prepare
The salted meal, the fillets for my hair.
I fled, 'tis true, and saved my life by flight,
Bursting my bonds in frenzy of despair,
And hidden in a marish lay that night,
Waiting till they should sail, if sail, perchance, they might.

XIX. "'No hope have I my ancient fatherland,
Or darling boys, or long-lost sire to see,
Whom now perchance, the Danaans will demand,
Poor souls! for vengeance, and their death decree,
To purge my crime, in daring to be free.
O by the gods, who know the just and true,
By faith unstained,--if any such there be,--
With mercy deign such miseries to view;