They came, the more part grey, grown early old,
In war and plague; but with them was the young
Coroebus, that but late had left the fold
And flocks of sheep Maeonian hills among,
And valiantly his lot with Priam flung,
For love of a lost cause and a fair face, -
The eyes that once the God of Pytho sung,
That now look'd darkly to the slaughter-place.
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