In Greece doth many a dame complain
Chaunting rude dirges for her children slain;
Others their native land reluctant leave,
And to a foreign lord are brought.
Nor yet hast thou alone just cause to grieve,
Nor to thy friends hath Heaven’s peculiar hate
These signal miseries wrought:
Victorious Greece still feels as deep a wound,
From whence the thunderbolt of fate
Through Phrygia scattered deaths around.