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Troia do the Achaioi hold, this same day.
I think a noise -- no mixture -- reigns i' the city.
Sour wine and unguent pour thou in one vessel --
Standers-apart, not lovers, wouldst thou style them:
And so, of captives and of conquerors, partwise
The voices are to hear, of fortune diverse.
For those, indeed, upon the bodies prostrate
Of husbands, brothers, children upon parents
-- The old men, from a throat that 's free no longer,
Shriekingly wail the death-doom of their dearest:
While these -- the after-battle hungry labour,
Which prompts night-faring, marshals them to breakfast
On the town's store, according to no billet
Of sharing, but as each drew lot of fortune.
In the spear-captured Troic habitations
House they already: from the frosts upmethral
And dews delivered, will they, luckless creatures,
Without a watch to keep, slumber all night through.
And if they fear the gods, the city-guarders,
And the gods' structures of the conquered country,
They may not -- capturers--soon in turn be captive.
But see no prior lust befall the army
To sack things sacred -- by gain-cravings vanquished
For there needs homeward the return's salvation,
To round the new limb back o' the double race-course.
And guilty to the gods if came the army,
Awakened up the sorrow of those slaughtered
Might be -- should no outbursting evils happen.
But may good beat -- no turn to see i' the balance!
For, many benefits I want the gain of.
Woman, like prudent man thou kindly speakest.
And I, thus having heard thy trusty tokens,
The gods to rightly hail forthwith prepare me;
For, grace that must be paid has crowned our labours.
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