Enough are we, who warded Ilium long.

Art sure thou hast even now destroyed the foe? ⁠330

Sure: this the splendour of coming dawn shall prove.

Beware the future: oft doth fortune veer.

I hate to come with help to friends o'erlate:—
Yet, since he hath come, not as our ally,
But guest, unto our table let him come. ⁠335
The sons of Priam owe no thanks to him.

King, hate were bred of allies thrust away.

His mere appearing should dismay our foes.

Well counsellest thou—thou too dost see aright.
This golden-mailèd Rhesus then shall come, ⁠340
According to thy word, our land's ally.

(Str. 1)
⁠Nemesis, child of the Highest,
⁠My lips from presumption refrain;