There, behold, Matrons and men, a miserable band, Gathered for exile.

From each side they shoaled, Resolved and ready over sea and land My steps to follow, where the Fates command.
Now over Ida shone the day-star bright; Greeks swarmed at every entrance; help at hand Seemed none.

I yield, and, hurrying from the fight, Take up my helpless sire, and climb the mountain height.".