Girt with her foul emasculate throng,By Fortune's sweet new wine befool'd,In hope's ungovern'd weakness strongTo hope for all; but soon she cool'd,To see one ship from burning 'scape;Great Caesar taught her dizzy brain,Made mad by Mareotic grape,To feel the sobering truth of pain,And gave her chase from Italy,As after doves fierce falcons speed,As hunters 'neath Haemonia's skyChase the tired hare, so might he leadThe fiend enchain'd; she sought to dieMore nobly, nor with woman's dreadQuail'd at the steel, nor timorouslyIn her fleet ships to covert fled.