Practice Typing

O first of mortals. for the gods are thine In valour matchless, and in force divine. If Jove have given thee every Trojan head, Tis not on me thy rage should heap the dead. See. my choked streams no more their course can keep, Nor roll their wonted tribute to the deep. Turn then, impetuous. from our injured flood; Content, thy slaughters could amaze a god.