“O Jove, most great and glorious! who dost rule The tempest⁠—dweller of the ethereal space! Let not the sun go down and night come on Ere I shall lay the halls of Priam waste With fire, and give their portals to the flames, And hew away the coat of mail that shields The breast of Hector, splitting it with steel. And may his fellow-warriors, many a one, Fall round him to the earth and bite the dust.”