Although there seem just cause for dread,
When cities like Mycene blest,
Whose triumphs fame hath widely spread
Enter this region to invest
Our bulwarks, harbouring ruthless hate.
Think, O my country, think what shame,
Should we reject the suppliant’s claim
Appalled by Argos’ haughty state.
Resistless Jove shall aid the spear
I brandish unappalled by fear;
The tribute of eternal praise
From all that breathe, to him is due:
Nor magnified by our weak view
Shall men above the gods their trophies raise.