Of my commands, which make the world to quail!
Of life and health devourers in your ire,
With whom nor cries, nor threats, nor rights avail!
Since ye are cognisant of my desire,
It needs not that again I tell the tale,
How pleasure and content will fill my breast,
If quickly ye fulfil my stern behest.
The Fates, with that inexorable might,
Whose energy none living can impair,
Constrain me now my forces to unite