The hand, by which no king but serjeant<97.1> dies,
Mutius in fire doth freely sacrifice;
The prince admires the Hero, quits his pains,
And Victor from the seige peace entertains;
Rome's more oblig'd to flames than arms or pow'r,
When one burnt hand shall the whole war devour.<97.2>
<97.1> A somewhat imperfect rendering of LICTOR.
<97.2> The reader will easily judge for himself of the valueless
character of these translations; but it is only just to Lovelace
to suggest that they were probably academic exercises only,
and at the same time to submit that they are not much worse than
Marlowe's translation of Ovid, and many other versions of the
Classics then current.
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