“Go now, ye Trojans, and inform from me The father and the mother of the slain That they may mourn within their palace walls Illustrious Ilioneus. After this Shall the sad wife of Promachus, the son Of Alegenor, never hasten forth To meet her husband with glad looks, when we The Greeks return from Ilium with our fleet.”

He spake; the Trojans all grew pale with fear, And gazed around for an escape from death.

Say, Muses, ye who on the Olympian height Inhabit, who was first among the Greeks To gather bloody spoil, when now the power That shakes the shores had turned the tide of war.