Amidst the tumult of the routed train, The sons of false Antimachus were slain; He who for bribes his faithless counsels sold, And voted Helen’s stay for Paris’ gold. Atrides mark’d, as these their safety sought, And slew the children for the father’s fault; Their headstrong horse unable to restrain, They shook with fear, and dropp’d the silken rein; Then in the chariot on their knees they fall, And thus with lifted hands for mercy call: