—He speaks his bitterness of mind.
“Your impious hands, barbarians, hold!
“Ye pause! but fir’d with lust of gold,
“Your leader lifts his axe, and like
“Accursed Julius, bids you strike.[[35]]
“Deaf are the ruthless ears of gain,
“And youth and beauty plead in vain.
“—Loud groans the wood with thick’ning strokes!
“Yes, ye must perish, filial oaks!
“In heaps your wither’d trunks be laid,