A death-devoted, desperate queen,
What foe had I to fear?
No, I had sown the flame broadcast,
Had fired the fleet from keel to mast,
Slain son and sire, stamped out the race,
And thrown at length with steadfast face
Myself upon the bier.
If needs must be that wretch abhorred
Attain the port and float to land,
If such the fate of heaven’s high lord,