The charms of Egypt all thy soul detain;
In her gay garden, of umbrageous grove,
The Field of War and Fame no more can move.
On flowers reclining in luxurious state,
Rest Cæsar’s friend, the avenger of his fate;
While to Octavia sunk in hapless grief,
No spouse, no titles, yield a kind relief:
Rome views my hapless fate with pitying eye,
Fain from her sight, from all mankind I’d fly:
Despair consumes me—and with calm delight,