Dreamed not of the rebound:
Chained by the trunk he vainly broke—
Alone—how looked he round?
Thou, in the sternness of thy strength, 50
An equal deed hast done at length,
And darker fate hast found:
He fell, the forest prowlers’ prey;
But thou must eat thy heart away!
The Roman, when his burning heart 55
Was slaked with blood of Rome,