From the mirage they were to homes at last.
And adverse Gods and Goddesses, to all,
I pray, if e’er Troy’s glory stirred your gall,
Does not down-fallen Pergamus atone—
Is Envy not content with heaps of stone—
With Priam’s House uprooted? What are we,
Mere remnant tossed till now on every sea?
Thee also, holy Prophetess, I ask;
Free thy God’s cloudy riddles from their mask;
In pity for me, who already know