“O Greeks! Shame on ye! Cravens who excel In form alone! Where now are all the boasts Of your invincible valor⁠—the vain words Ye uttered pompously when at the feast In Lemnos sitting ye devoured the flesh Of hornèd beeves, and drank from bowls of wine, Flower-crowned, and bragged that each of you would be A match for fivescore Trojans, or for twice Fivescore? And now we all are not a match For Hector singly, who will give our fleet Soon to consuming flames. O Father Jove, Was ever mighty monarch visited By thee with such affliction, or so robbed Of high renown! And yet in my good ship, Bound to this luckless coast, I never passed By thy fair altars that I did not burn The fat and thighs of oxen, with a prayer That I might sack the well-defended Troy. Now be at least one wish of mine fulfilled⁠— That we may yet escape and get us hence; Nor let the Trojans thus destroy the Greeks.”