Much better had it been for you and me,
Unforced by this our last necessity,
To have been earlier wise, than now to call
A council, when the foe surrounds the wall.
O citizens! we wage unequal war,
With men, not only heaven's peculiar care,
But heaven's own race—unconquered in the field,
Or, conquered, yet unknowing how to yield.
What hopes you had in Diomede, lay down:
Our hopes must centre in ourselves alone.