Fall’n from a father’s lips? If heaven has willed
That nothing from this city vast survive,
And if thy mind is firmly set to die,
And ‘tis thy pleasure to our ruined Troy
To add thyself and all thy family—
The door to that destruction opens wide
Soon Pyrrhus will be here, his murderous hands
Reeking with Priam’s blood, who slays the son
Before his father’s eyes, and eke the sire
Upon the sacred altar’s very steps