His country, his paternal walls, to save,
The generous youth explores the anchored fleet:
From me such worth shall due encomiums meet.
How few with hardy bosoms stem the wave,
When Hyperion veils his face,
And cities tremble on their base!
At this dread crisis Phrygian heroes rise,
Mysian chiefs, uncurbed by fear,
Brandish with nervous arm the spear,
Curst be the lying tongue that slanders my allies.