"Thou seest how righteous Heaven by pity stirred From the wide champaign, red with Grecian gore, Bears that fell man; and like a reckless bird Into the fowler's net hath made him soar;
That for short season, for revenge deferred, My son may mourn upon the Stygian shore.
Give me, my lord, I pray, this cruel foe, That by his torment I may soothe my woe."