Unnumbered Greeks, transpierced with spears,
Or crushed beneath the falling ramparts, bled:
Hence with her tresses shorn, immersed in tears
The matron wails her lonely bed,
But Nauplius, kindling near th’ Eubœan deep
Those torches, o’er our host prevailed;
Though with a single bark the traitor sailed,
He wrecked whole fleets against Caphareus’ steep,
And the Ægean coasts, the beacon seemed
A star, and through Heaven’s conclave gleamed,
Placed on the craggy height.
While flushed with conquest, from the Phrygian strand
They hastened to their native land,
Portentous source of bloody fight,
The cloud by Juno formed, beguiled their dazzled sight.