On him who left her to that burning tomb,
Alone to share her children’s martyrdom;
Who, when his country perish’d, fled the strife,
And knelt to win the worthless boon of life.
“Live, traitor! live!” she cries, “since dear to thee,
E’en in thy fetters, can existence be!
Scorn’d and dishonour’d live!—with blasted name,
The Roman’s triumph not to grace, but shame.
O slave in spirit! bitter be thy chain
With tenfold anguish to avenge my pain!