Читать книгу Yale Classics (Vol. 2) - Луций Анней Сенека - Страница 133

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Rufus, a friend so vainly believ'd, so wrongly relied in,

(Vainly? alas the reward fail'd not, a heavier ill;)

Could'st thou thus steal on me, a lurking viper, an aching

Fire to the bones, nor leave aught to delight any more?

Nought to delight any more! ah cruel poison of equal

Lives! ah breasts that grew each to the other awhile!

Yet far most this grieves me, to think thy slaver abhorred

Foully my own love's lips soileth, a purity rare.

Thou shalt surely atone thine injury: centuries harken,

Know thee afar; grow old, fame, to declare him anew.