While Anthony without the chance of arms,
Contemn’d by all, and lost to glory’s charms,
A woman’s signal leads across the wave,
To share the just derision of the brave:
I shudder at thy weakness and thy shame,
The price a worthless mistress pays thy flame;
Now Rome disowns thee—blushes to have borne
The power of him who fills the world with scorn;
O hero still belov’d, ere quite undone,
Recal the palms thy youthful valour won;