For what grave reason, in what fearful way,
They hurried on to ruin utterly,
With such a grand and terrible display.
Scipio.
And was, mayhap, my breast filled full and high
With barbarous arrogance and deaths combined,
And clean devoid of righteous cruelty?
Is it, perchance, quite foreign to my mind
To treat the vanquished with the mercy due,
As fits the victor who is brave and kind?