My age hath virtue left
To sing what fateful omens strangely beckoned
The twin kings to the fray,
What time to Troy concentuous marched
The embattled Greek array.
Jove’s swooping bird, king of all birds,[f5] led on
The kings of the fleet with spear and vengeful hand:
By the way-side from shining seats serene,
Close by the palace, on the spear-hand seen,[f6]
Two eagles flapped the air,