Carmen 57
Whence sprang that savage, that unfeeling mind?
Art thou some offspring of the lion kind,
On scorching Lybia's thirsty mountains born;
Or from the womb of barking Scylla torn?
That thus thou'rt deaf to all my urgent woes;
O, heart too harden'd, that no pity knows!
Art thou some offspring of the lion kind,
On scorching Lybia's thirsty mountains born;
Or from the womb of barking Scylla torn?
That thus thou'rt deaf to all my urgent woes;
O, heart too harden'd, that no pity knows!
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