:09:29
O sacred receptacle of my joys,
:09:32
sweet cell of virtue and nobility,
:09:38
how many sons of mine
hast thou in store
:09:41
that thou wilt never
render to me more?
:10:08
And there greet in silence,
as the dead are wont,
:10:12
and sleep in peace,
slain in your country's wars.
:10:30
Give us the proudest prisoner
of the Goths
:10:31
that we may hew his limbs,
and on a pile...
:10:34
Admanes fratrum.
:10:36
sacrifice his flesh.
:10:38
That so the shadows
be not unappeased,
:10:40
nor we disturbed
with prodigies on earth.
:10:43
I give him you,
the noblest that survives:
:10:47
the eldest son of
this distressed queen.
:10:50
No! Stay, Roman brethren!
:10:54
Gracious conqueror,
:10:56
victorious Titus,
rue the tears I shed--