And her torn tresses rudely hung around;

Her naked arms uplifted ere she spoke,

Then, groaning, thus the mournful silence broke:

Presumptuous men! oh, whither do you run?

Oh, whither bear you these my ensigns on?

If friends to right, if citizens of Rome,

Here to your utmost barrier are you come.

She said; and sunk within the closing shade.

Astonishment and dread the chief invade;

Stiff rose his starting hair; he stood dismayed,