“Alas! The feeblest mind can now perceive That Father Jove is with the sons of Troy, And gives to them the glory of the day. Their weapons smite, whoever sends them forth, Coward or brave, for Jove directs them all; Ours fall to earth in vain. But let us now Consult how best to bear the corpse away, And how, returning, we may meet our friends With joy; for they are grieved as they behold Our plight, and fear that we may not withstand The fiery onset and invincible arm Of the man-queller Hector. Would there were Some comrade who would bear to Peleus’ son The tidings of the day! For he, I think, Has not yet heard that his dear friend is slain. None such can I behold of all the Greeks, For they are shrouded all⁠—their steeds and they⁠— In darkness. Father Jove, deliver us From darkness; clear the heavens and give our eyes Again to see. Destroy us if thou wilt, But O destroy us in the light of day!”