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Rh Hope rose up to the lip-edge: filled it was not.

By smoke the captured city is still conspicuous:

Até's burnt offerings live: and, dying with them,

The ash sends forth the fulsome blasts of riches.

Of these things, to the gods grace many-mindful

'T is right I render, since both nets outrageous

We built them round with, and, for sake of woman,

It did the city to dust—the Argeian monster,

The horse's nestling, the shield-bearing people

That made a leap, at setting of the Pleiads,

And, vaulting o'er the tower, the raw-flesh-feeding

Lion licked up his fill of blood tyrannic.

I to the gods indeed prolonged this preface;

But—as for thy thought, I remember hearing—

I say the same, and thou co-pleader hast me.