At last is Hector stretchd upon the plain,
Who feard no vengeance for Patroclus slain:
Then, Prince! You should have feard, what now you feel;
Achilles absent was Achilles still:
Yet a short space the great avenger stayed,
Then low in dust thy strength and glory laid. – Homer

Over the river and through the wood,
To grandfathers house we go;
The horse knows the way
To carry the sleigh,
Through the white and drifted snow. – Lydia Maria Child