If I can not bend Heaven, I shall move Hell.
Sing in me, muse, of arms and a man, who first from the shores of Troy.
The only safety for the conquered is to expect no safety.
I will be gone from here and sing my songs/ In the forest wilderness where the wild beasts are,/ And carve in letters on the little trees/ The story of my love, and as the trees/ Will grow letters too will grow, to cry/ In a louder voice the story of my love.
Let not our proposal be disregarded on the score of our youth.
From a single crime know the nation.