inflamed the passions, his lust rages more savagely; ’midst the mingled smell of scents and flowers, ’midst curled minions and youthful choirs he bids go sport the widowed wives whose husbands he but a moment ago has murdered. Better Phalaris and the torments of his furnace, better to listen to the bellowings of the Sicilian bull than to such songs as these. Nor is the base sacrifice of their good name enough. When tired of each noblest matron Gildo hands her over to the Moors. Married in Carthage city these Sidonian mothers needs must mate with barbarians. He thrusts upon me an Ethiopian as a son-in-law, a Berber as a husband. The hideous half-breed child affrights its cradle. Thanks to those base allies his state is more regal than that of the emperor himself. Before him goes a body of foot-soldiers, squadrons of cavalry surround him and client kings whom he enriches with our spoils. He drives one and all from their ancestral houses and expels husbandmen from farms so long theirs. My people are scattered in exile. Are my citizens never to return from their wanderings to their native soil?”
She would have spoken further in her grief had not Jove begun from his lofty throne—Atropos wrote down his words in adamant and Lachesis spun them in with her thread—“Neither thou, Rome, nor yet thou, Africa, will we suffer to go long unavenged. Honorius shall disperse your common foe. Go in peace. No violence shall part your companionship; Africa shall serve Rome, and Rome alone.”
He spake and breathed into Rome a youth renewed. Straightway her former strength returned, and her hair put off its grey of eld; her helmet grew solid,
erexit galeam clipeique recanduit orbis
et levis excussa micuit rubigine cornus.
Umentes iam noctis equos Lethaeaque Somnus
frena regens tacito volvebat sidera curru.
iam duo divorum proceres, maiorque minorque 215