Thou wouldest launch thy fleet and urge thy onward way
Mid stormy blasts across the sea, O cruel one?
But what if not a stranger’s land and unknown homes
Thou soughtest; what if Troy, thy city, still remained:
Still wouldst thou fare to Troy along the wave-tossed sea?
Is ‘t I thou fleest? By these tears and thy right hand—
Since in my depth of crushing woe I’ve nothing left—
And by our marriage bond and sacred union joined,
If ever aught of mercy I have earned of thee,
If I have ever giv’n thee one sweet drop of joy,