“The younger warriors press thee sore, old chief! Thy strength gives way; the weariness of age Is on thee; thy attendant is not strong; Thy steeds are slow. Mount, then, my car, and see What Trojan horses are; how rapidly They turn to right and left, and chase and flee. I took them from the terror of the field, Aeneas. To our servants leave thine own, While we with these assault the Trojan knights, And teach even Hector that the spear I wield Can make as furious havoc as his own.”