Upon our necks with cruel grip shall lie,
Ourselves our executioners must be,
And not these Romans steeped in perfidy.
Think, every woman, child, and old man here,
By stern decree to death must straightway go,
Since in the end the pangs of hunger drear
Will take their lives, and with a fiercer blow.
But, brother, mark the woman drawing near,
Who, once upon a time, as thou dost know,
Was loved by me, and with a love as great