"Ah! vain to boast, if Heaven refuse to aid! Dragged by her tresses from Minerva's fane, Cassandra comes, the Priameian maid, Stretching to heaven her burning eyes in vain, Her eyes, for bonds her tender hands constrain.
That sight Coroebus brooked not.

Stung with gall And mad with rage, nor fearing to be slain, He plunged amid their columns.

One and all, With weapons massed, press on and follow at his call.
LV.

"Here first with missiles, from a temple's height Hurled by our comrades, we are crushed and slain, And piteous is the slaughter, at the sight Of Argive helms for Argive foes mista'en.
Now too, with shouts of fury and disdain To see the maiden rescued, here and there The Danaans gathering round us, charge amain; Fierce-hearted Ajax, the Atridan pair, And all Thessalia's host our scanty band o'erbear.
LVI.

"So, when the tempest bursting wakes the war, The justling winds in conflict rave and roar, South, West and East upon his orient car, The lashed woods howl, and with his trident hoar Nereus in foam upheaves the watery floor.
Those too, whom late we scattered through the town, Tricked in the darkness, reappear once more.
At once the falsehood of our guise is known, The shields, the lying arms, the speech of different tone.
LVII.