“Great perils, father! wait the unequal fight; These younger champions will oppress thy might. Thy veins no more with ancient vigour glow, Weak is thy servant, and thy coursers slow. Then haste, ascend my seat, and from the car Observe the steeds of Tros, renown’d in war. Practised alike to turn, to stop, to chase, To dare the fight, or urge the rapid race: These late obey’d Æneas’ guiding rein; Leave thou thy chariot to our faithful train; With these against yon Trojans will we go, Nor shall great Hector want an equal foe; Fierce as he is, even he may learn to fear The thirsty fury of my flying spear.”