To see the rival bulls each other gore,
But wished the conquest mine.
I fled; and yet I languish not in exile;
But here in Egypt whet my blunted horns,
And meditate new fights, and chew my loss.
Ah! why, ye gods, must Cleomenes wait
On this effeminate, luxurious court,
For tardy helps of base Egyptian bands?
Why have not I, whose individual mind
Would ask a nation of such souls to inform it,