She, she the baleful fury fiend it was
Who at my marriage rites bore torches lit25
With hellish fires; 'twas she who wrought thy death,
O wretched father, whom but yesterday
The whole world owned as lord on land and sea;
To whom the Britain bowed, though ne'er before
Had he a Roman master known or owned.30
Alas, my father, by thy wife's fell plots
Thou liest low, and I and all thy house
Like captives groan beneath the tyrant's sway.