Repelled, in awful fear,
Each rude aggressor, in firm virtue cased,
Nor knew the lustful touch divinely chaste.
And may she grant, indeed,
That we, a gracious mother’s gracious seed,
By no harsh kindred wooed,
May live on Apian ground unyoked and unsubdued.
STROPHE VIII.
But if no aid to us may be,
Libya’s swart sun-beaten daughters,