Troy once more Shakes off her ten years' sorrow.

Open stand The gates.

With joy to the abandoned shore, The places bare of foes, the Dorian lines we pour.
V.

"Here camped the brave Dolopians, there was set The tent of fierce Achilles; yonder lay The fleet, and here the rival armies met And mingled.

Some with wonder and dismay The maid Minerva's fatal gift survey.
Then first Thymaetes cries aloud, to go And through the gates the monstrous horse convey And lodge it in the citadel.