If all is o’er, and Troy is in the dust,
Why should I wish to prolong this worthless life
In exiled wanderings? Turn ye to flight,
Who feel the blood of youth within your veins,
Whose sturdy powers still flourish in their prime.
If heavenly gods had wished me still to live,
They would have saved this home wherein to dwell.
Enough and more, that I have seen one fall
Of Troy, and once outlived my captured town.
Then, even as I lie in seeming death,