Long since would I have saved me from the Greeks
And followed my dear lord; but thought of him
Doth check my purpose and forbid my death.
For his dear sake there still remaineth cause420
To supplicate the gods, an added care.
Through him the richest fruit of woe is lost—
The fear of naught; and now all hope of rest
From further ills is gone, for cruel fate
Hath still an entrance to my grieving heart.
Most sad his fear, who fears in hopelessness.425