For him sole solace of his mother’s heart.
——What do I say—when you, perhaps, even now
In Cleopatra’s arms my ruin vow;
Would to the gods! ah! would the Fates decree
That barbarous fair the lot ordain’d for me;
O may she fall betray’d, and as she dies,
View joy exulting in her lover’s eyes;
On her who poison’d all my bliss of life,
A cruel death avenge an injur’d wife.
So perish all who boast such dangerous arms,