Mass. Forgive my admiration:
You touch’d a string to which my sense was quick.
Can you but think? Do, do; my grief—my grief—
Would make a saint blaspheme! Give some relief;
As thou art Scipio, forgive that I forget
I am a soldier. Such woes Jove’s ribs would burst:
Few speak less ill that feel so much of worst.— 70
My ear attends.
Sci. Before then Syphax join,
With new-strength’d Carthage, or can once unwind
His tangled sense from out so wild[353] amaze,
Fall we like sudden lightning ’fore his eyes:
Boldness and speed are all of victories.
Mass. Scipio, let Massinissa clip thy knees!
May once these eyes view Syphax? shall this arm
Once make him feel his sin? O ye gods!
My cause, my cause! Justice is so huge odds,
That he who with it fears, heaven must renounce 80
In his creation.
Sci. Beat then a close quick march!
Before the morn shall shake cold dews through skies,
Syphax shall tremble at Rome’s thick alarms.
Mass. Ye powers, I challenge conquest to just arms.
[With a full flourish of cornets, they depart.
[349] The text is corrupt.—“Sees me thus” (i.e., see me grateful), “sees the thus” (i.e., incense), and “sees this use” (i.e., interest of thanks) are alike unsatisfactory.
[350] Old eds. “Romes.”
[351] Old eds. “worth.”