Scipio, o pietade e morta, od e bandita
Sure Pity, Scipio! on Earth has fled
From Royal breasts to seek abode in heaven,
For if she were not banished, scorned, or dead,
Would not some ear to my complaints be given?
Is noble faith at pleasure to be riven?
Though freely pledged that I had nought to dread,
And I by endless outrage to be driven
To worse than Death — the death-like life I've led?
For this is of the quick a grave — and here
Am I a living breathing corpse interred
To go not forth 'till prisoned in my bier —
O Earth! O Heaven! if Love and Truth are heard,
Or Honor, Fame and Virtue worth a tear
Let not my prayers be fruitless or deferred!
From Royal breasts to seek abode in heaven,
For if she were not banished, scorned, or dead,
Would not some ear to my complaints be given?
Is noble faith at pleasure to be riven?
Though freely pledged that I had nought to dread,
And I by endless outrage to be driven
To worse than Death — the death-like life I've led?
For this is of the quick a grave — and here
Am I a living breathing corpse interred
To go not forth 'till prisoned in my bier —
O Earth! O Heaven! if Love and Truth are heard,
Or Honor, Fame and Virtue worth a tear
Let not my prayers be fruitless or deferred!
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