Whose faltering accents tell the exiled chief
To seek on other shores a home for grief.
—Silent the wanderer sat—but on his cheek
The burning glow far more than words might speak;
And, from the kindling of his eye, there broke
Language where all th’ indignant soul awoke,
Till his deep thought found voice: then, calmly stern,
And sovereign in despair, he cried, “Return!
Tell him who sent thee hither, thou hast seen
Marius, the exile, rest where Carthage once hath been!”