Is of the past, and we, alas, no more
May call ourselves of Ilium; for lo,
The cruel gods have given all to Greece,
And foemen lord it in our blazing town;
The great horse stands upon our citadel,
And from his roomy side pours armed men;
While Sinon, gloating o’er his victory,
With blazing torch is busy everywhere.
Down at the double gates still others press
For entrance, all Mycenæ’s clamorous hosts,