Book IX, 154: On the Same

Have mercy on me, Athena, protectress of the city. I, wretched Ilion, as was meet, worshipped thee in thy temple resplendent with gold. But thou hast abandoned me to the spoilers, and all for the sake of an apple hast stripped all the glory from my walls. Better had it been for the cowherd, Paris, to perish, for if he broke the law, it was not his country’s crime.