“Hear, all ye hosts, and hear, unnumber’d bands Of neighbouring nations, or of distant lands! ’Twas not for state we summon’d you so far, To boast our numbers, and the pomp of war: Ye came to fight; a valiant foe to chase, To save our present, and our future race. For this, our wealth, our products, you enjoy, And glean the relics of exhausted Troy. Now then, to conquer or to die prepare; To die or conquer are the terms of war. Whatever hand shall win Patroclus slain, Whoe’er shall drag him to the Trojan train, With Hector’s self shall equal honours claim; With Hector part the spoil, and share the fame.”