“Ye sons of Greece! partake your leader’s care; Fellows in arms and princes of the war! Of partial Jove too justly we complain, And heavenly oracles believed in vain. A safe return was promised to our toils, With conquest honour’d and enrich’d with spoils: Now shameful flight alone can save the host; Our wealth, our people, and our glory lost. So Jove decrees, almighty lord of all! Jove, at whose nod whole empires rise or fall, Who shakes the feeble props of human trust, And towers and armies humbles to the dust. Haste then, for ever quit these fatal fields, Haste to the joys our native country yields; Spread all your canvas, all your oars employ, Nor hope the fall of heaven-defended Troy.”