That ye will leave them not in this sad case,
And mean to soften down your hearts of steel.
Within their arms they bear, with tearful face,
Your tender sons; and to the loving breast
They press them close, and give them last embrace.
First Wife.
Sweet lords of ours, if 'mid the woes increased
Which shower their sorrows on Numantia's head—
Of which the mortal sufferings are the least—
Or in those better days which now are fled,