Why did he draw His separate sword, and in the toil that's ours Mingle his weapons?
In Thessalia's field Gave we such right to the Pellaean blade?
Magnus as partner in the rule of Rome I had not brooked; and shall I tolerate Thee, Ptolemaeus?
In vain with civil wars Thus have we roused the nations, if there be Now any might but Caesar's.

If one land Yet owned two masters, I had turned from yours The prows of Latium; but fame forbids, Lest men should whisper that I did not damn This deed of blood, but feared the Pharian land.
Nor think ye to deceive; victorious here I stand: else had my welcome at your hands Been that of Magnus; and that neck were mine But for Pharsalia's chance.

At greater risk So seems it, than we dreamed of, took we arms; Exile, and Magnus' threats, and Rome I knew, Not Ptolemaeus.

But we spare the boy: Pass by the murder.

Let the princeling know We give no more than pardon for his crime.
And now in honour of the mighty dead, Not merely that the earth may hide your guilt, Lay ye the chieftain's head within the tomb; With proper sepulture appease his shade And place his scattered ashes in an urn.
Thus may he know my coming, and may hear Affection's accents, and my fond complaints.
Me sought he not, but rather, for his life, This Pharian vassal; snatching from mankind The happy morning which had shown the world A peace between us.