Et son très doulx regarder!
Mieux aime mon martyre.”
“I stood, and to the Dawn my vows addressed,
When Roscius rose refulgent in the west.
Forgive, ye Powers! A mortal seemed more bright,
Than the bright god who darts the shafts of light.”
“Why Phileros, a torch before me bear?—
A heart on fire all other light may spare.
That feeble flame can ill resist the power
Of the keen tempest and the headlong shower;