“After famed Ilium was by Argives won, And flames had finish’d what the sword begun; Pallas, incensed, pursued us to the main, In vengeance of her violated fane. Alone Oileus forced the Trojan maid, Yet all were punish’d for the brutal deed. A storm begins, the raging waves run high, The clouds look heavy, and benight the sky; Red sheets of lightning o’er the seas are spread, Our tackling yields, and wrecks at last succeed. ’Tis tedious our disastrous state to tell; Ev’n Priam would have pitied what befell. Yet Pallas saved me from the swallowing main; At home new wrongs to meet, as fates ordain. Chased from my country, I once more repeat All sufferings seas could give, or war complete. For Venus, mindful of her wound, decreed Still new calamities should past succeed. Agmon, impatient through successive ills, With fury, love’s bright goddess thus reviles: ‘These plagues in spite of Diomed are sent; The crime is his, but ours the punishment. Let each my friends her puny spleen despise, And dare that proud dictator of the skies.’