To Ilion Wrath, fulfilling her intent,This marriage-care — the rightly named so — sent:In after-time, for the tables’ abuseAnd that of the hearth-partaker Zeus,Bringing to punishmentThose who honoured with noisy throatThe honour of the bride, the hymenseal noteWhich did the kinsfolk then to singing urge.But, learning a new hymn for that which was,The ancient city of PriamosGroans probably a great and general dirge,Denominating ParisThe man that miserably marries: —She who, all the while before,A life, that was a general dirgeFor citizens’ unhappy slaughter, bore. And thus a man, by no milk’s help,Within his household reared a lion’s whelpThat loved the teatIn life’s first festal stage: