...ls, the foeman waits. Ill-omened war is ours against a race of gods, my countrymen, invincible, unwearied in the fray, and who, though lost and fallen, clutch the sword. If hope ye cherished of Aetolia 's power, dismiss it! For what hope ye have is found in your own bosoms only. But ye know how slight it is and small. What ruin wide has fallen, is now palpable and clear. No blame I cast. What v...