And e'en to thee I stretch my suppliant hands,
O cruel stepdame; thou at least, I pray,
Let fly thy dart (so by a woman's hand
I may be slain), thine anger soothed at last,
Thy thirst for vengeance sated. Why dost thou
Still nurse thy wrath? Why further seek revenge?1320
Behold Alcides suppliant to thee,
Which no wild beast, no land has ever seen.
But now, O Juno, when I need thy wrath,
Is now thine anger cooled, thy hate forgot?