“O Hector! say, what great occasion calls My son from fight, when Greece surrounds our walls; Com’st thou to supplicate the almighty power With lifted hands, from Ilion’s lofty tower? Stay, till I bring the cup with Bacchus crown’d, In Jove’s high name, to sprinkle on the ground, And pay due vows to all the gods around. Then with a plenteous draught refresh thy soul, And draw new spirits from the generous bowl; Spent as thou art with long laborious fight, The brave defender of thy country’s right.”