‘Now feast on my ruin, Saturnian Juno! Feast, cruel goddess! Look down from above on this scene of destruction and glut the desires of your brutal heart! Or else, if my plight cries out to be pitied even by you, my inveterate enemy, racked as I am by harrowing torture, relieve me of life, [180] the life that I hate, the life that was destined for nothing but labours. Death will now be a boon and a worthy gift from my stepmother.
