“Hector, and ye who lead the troops of Troy And our auxiliars! Rashly do we seek To urge our rapid steeds across the trench So hard to pass, beset with pointed stakes⁠— And the Greek wall so near. The troops of horse Cannot descend nor combat there: the space Is narrow: they would all be slain. If Jove, The Thunderer of the skies, design to crush The Greeks and succor Troy, I should rejoice Were the design at once fulfilled, and all The sons of Greece ingloriously cut off, Far from their Argos. But if they should turn Upon us, and repulse us from their fleet, And we become entangled in the trench, I deem no messenger would e’er go back To Troy from fighting with the rallied Greeks. Heed, then, my words, and let the charioteers Stay with the coursers at the trench, while we, Armed, and on foot, and all in close array, Follow our Hector. For the Greeks in vain Will strive to stem our onset if, in truth, The hour of their destruction be at hand.”