Beyond the Egean isles, thou heardst the shores
Of Hellespont resound with ancient deeds;
And the proud surge exult, that bore of old
Achilles’ armor to Rhetœum’s shore
Where Ajax sleeps.[10] To souls of generous mould
Death righteously awards the meed of fame:
Nor subtle wit, nor kingly favor gave
The perilous spoils to Ithaca—when waves
Stirred to wild fury by infernal gods,
Rescued the treasures from the shipwrecked bark.