Woe! oh woe! Son of Cronos, prince of Phrygia, father of our race,
do you behold our sufferings now, unworthy of the stock of Dardanus?
He sees them, but our mighty city is a city no more, and Troy's day is done.
Woe! oh woe!
Ilium is ablaze; the homes of Pergamos and its towering walls are now one sheet of flame.
As the smoke soars on wings to heaven, so sinks our city to the ground before the spear.
With furious haste both fire and enemy spear devour each house.
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