GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2:4.4.61-4.4.76 urn:cts:latinLit:phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2:4.4.61-4.4.76
Not the lopp'd Hydra task'd so soreAlcides, chafing at the foil:No pest so fell was born of yoreFrom Colchian or from Theban soil.Plunged in the deep, it mounts to sightMore splendid: grappled, it will quellUnbroken powers, and fight a fightWhose story widow'd wives shall tell.No heralds shall my deeds proclaimTo Carthage now: lost, lost is all:A nation's hope, a nation's name,They died with dying Hasdrubal.”What will not Claudian hands achieve?Jove's favour is their guiding star,And watchful potencies unweaveFor them the tangled paths of war.