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Follow! She counsels for thy need the best:

Be thou persuaded;—leave thy chariot-seat.

No leisure have I here before the gates

To linger; for, beside the central hearth,

The victims wait the sacrificial fire;

A favour that our fondest hope transcends.

But thou, if aught wilt do of what I say,

Make no delay; but if, of sense bereft,

Thou canst not catch the meaning of my words,

In lieu of voice, speak with barbarian hand.

A clear interpreter the stranger needs:

Distraught she seems, like creature newly caught.

Nay, she is mad; to her distempered thoughts

She listens; from a newly-captured town

She cometh here, nor knows the yoke to bear,

Till quelled in foam the passion of her blood.

But words I'll waste no more, thus to be scorned. [Exit.

But I, by pity moved, will not be wroth;

Come, wretched sufferer, this car forsake;

To Fortune yielding, hansel this new yoke.

Ah me! alas! Gods, Earth!

Apollo, O Apollo!