“Seam’d o’er with wounds, which his own sabre gave,
In the vile habit of a village slave,
The foe deceived, he pass’d the tented plain,
In Troy to mingle with the hostile train. 
In this attire secure from searching eyes,
Till happily piercing through the dark disguise,
The chief I challenged; he, whose practised wit
Knew all the serpent mazes of deceit,
Eludes my search; but when his form I view’d
Fresh from the bath, with fragrant oils renew’d,
His limbs in military purple dress’d,
Each brightening grace the genuine Greek confess’d. 
A previous pledge of sacred faith obtain’d,
Till he the lines and Argive fleet regain’d,
To keep his stay conceal’d; the chief declared
The plans of war against the town prepared. 
Exploring then the secrets of the state,
He learn’d what best might urge the Dardan fate;
And, safe returning to the Grecian host,
Sent many a shade to Pluto’s dreary coast. 
Loud grief resounded through the towers of Troy,
But my pleased bosom glow’d with secret joy: 
For then, with dire remorse and conscious shame
I view’d the effects of that disastrous flame. 
Which, kindled by the imperious queen of love,
Constrain’d me from my native realm to rove: 
And oft in bitterness of soul deplored
My absent daughter and my dearer lord;
Admired among the first of human race,
For every gift of mind and manly grace.”

“Right well (replied the king) your speech displays
The matchless merit of the chief you praise: 
Heroes in various climes myself have found,
For martial deeds and depth of thought renown’d;
But Ithacus, unrivall’d in his claim,
May boast a title to the loudest fame: 
In battle calm he guides the rapid storm,
Wise to resolve, and patient to perform. 
What wondrous conduct in the chief appear’d,
When the vast fabric of the steed we rear’d! 
Some demon, anxious for the Trojan doom,
Urged you with great Deiphobus to come,
To explore the fraud; with guile opposed to guile. 
Slow-pacing thrice around the insidious pile,
Each noted leader’s name you thrice invoke,
Your accent varying as their spouses spoke! 
The pleasing sounds each latent warrior warm’d,
But most Tydides’ and coy heart alarm’d: 
To quit the steed we both impatient press
Threatening to answer from the dark recess. 
Unmoved the mind of Ithacus remain’d;
And the vain ardours of our love restrain’d;
But Anticlus, unable to control,
Spoke loud the language of his yearning soul: 
Ulysses straight, with indignation fired
(For so the common care of Greece required),
Firm to his lips his forceful hands applied,
Till on his tongue the fluttering murmurs died. 
Meantime Minerva, from the fraudful horse,
Back to the court of Priam bent your course.”