The sea is expelled by their moles and their pastures are oceans;

They war against Nature in changing the state of creation.

They threaten my kingdom! Earth yawns with their tunnels deep
driven

To furnish the stone for their madmen's foundations; already

The mountains are hollowed and now but re-echoing caverns;

While man quarries marble to serve his vainglorious purpose

The spirits infernal confess that they hope to win Heaven!

Arise, then, O Chance, change thy countenance peaceful to warlike

And harry the Romans, consign to my kingdom the fallen.

Ah, long is it now since my lips were with blood cooled and
moistened,

Nor has my Tisiphone bathed her blood-lusting body

Since Sulla's sword drank to repletion and earth's bristling harvest

Grew ripe upon blood and thrust up to the light of the sunshine!'"