Oft dies she that her paunch-wrapt[314] child hath slain:
She dies, and with loose hairs to grave is sent,
And whoe'er see her, worthily[315] lament.40
But in the air let these words come to naught,
And my presages of no weight be thought.
Forgive her, gracious gods, this one delict,
And on the next fault punishment inflict.
FOOTNOTES:
[307] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.
[308] "Vitio."