Thou dotard, of thy realm and thy great destiny
Forgetful! Jove himself, the ruler of the gods,
Who holds the heavens and earth and moves them at his will,
To thee from bright Olympus straight hath sent me here.
He bade me bear on speeding pinions these commands:
What dost thou here? or with what hopes dost thou delay
Upon the Libyan shores? If thou, indeed, art moved
By no regard for thine own glorious destiny,
Respect at least the budding hopes of him, thy son,
Who after thee shall hold the scepter; for to him