Who fears no shifting of the winds of fate,
But fondly gives his soul to present joys:
Let him my lot and thine, O Troy, behold.
For of a truth did fortune never show
In plainer wise the frailty of the prop5
That doth support a king; since by her hand
Brought low, behold, proud Asia's capitol,
The work of heavenly hands, lies desolate.
From many lands the warring princes came
To aid her cause: from where the Tanaïs