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while, from his lofty station at the feast,
Father Aeneas with these words began :—
A grief unspeakable thy gracious word,
o sovereign lady, bids my heart live o'er:
how Asia's glory and afflicted throne
the Greek flung down; which woeful scene I saw,
and bore great part in each event I tell.
But O! in telling, what Dolopian churl,
or Myrmidon, or gory follower
of grim Ulysses could the tears restrain?
'T is evening; lo! the dews of night begin
to fall from heaven, and yonder sinking stars
invite to slumber. But if thy heart yearn
to hear in brief of all our evil days
and Troy's last throes, although the memory
makes my soul shudder and recoil in pain,
I will essay it.
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