Thus spake the son, the father sighed,
And thus with rising tears replied:
‘Seek not, my son, to learn the woe,
Your progeny is doomed to know.
The fates will show and then withdraw
The gift men loved but hardly saw.
Too mighty, gods! for so you deemed,
With such a prince Rome’s race had seemed!
What sobs shall thrill the Martian plain!
Ah, Tiber, what dark funeral train