To this Ulysses: “O celestial maid! Praised be thy counsel, and thy timely aid; Else had I seen my native walls in vain, 440 Like great Atrides, just restored and slain. Vouchsafe the means of vengeance to debate, And plan with all thy arts the scene of fate. Then, then be present, and my soul inspire, As when we wrapp’d Troy’s heaven-built walls in fire. 445 Though leagued against me hundred heroes stand. Hundreds shall fall, if Pallas aid my hand.”
