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Rh His gods, his grandchild at his side,

Makes for my door with frantic stride—

'Ha! Othrys' son, how goes the fight?

What forces muster at the height?'

I spoke: he heaves a long-drawn breath:

Tis come, our fated day of death.

We have been Trojans: Troy has been:

She sat, but sits no more, a queen:

Stern Jove an Argive rule proclaims:

Greece holds a city wrapt m flames.

There in the bosom of the town

The tall horse rains invasion down,

And Sinon, with a conqueror's pride,

Deals fiery havoc far and wide.

Some keep the gates, as vast a host

As ever left Mycenæ's coast:

Some block the narrows of the street,

With weapons threatening all they meet:

The stark sword stretches o'er the way,

Quick-glancing, ready drawn to slay,

While scarce our sentinels resist,

And battle in the flickering mist.'

So, stirred by Heaven and Othrys' son,

Forth into flames and spears I run,

Where yells the war-fiend, and the cries

Of slayer and slain invade the skies.

Bold Rhipeus links him to my side,

And Epytus, in arms long tried:

And Hypanis and Dymas hail

And join us in the moonbeam pale,

With young Corœbus, Mygdon's child,

Who came to Troy with yearning wild

Cassandra's love to gain,

And, prompt to yield a kinsman's aid,

His troop with Priam's hosts arrayed: