Unless the dreaded thunders of the sky, Like me, subdued, and violated lie, Still my revenge shall take its proper time, And suit the baseness of your hellish crime; Myself abandon’d, and devoid of shame, Through the wide world your actions will proclaim; Or, though I’m prison’d in this lonely den, Obscured and buried from the sight of men, My mournful voice the pitying rocks shall move, And my complainings echo through the grove. Hear me, O Heaven! and, if a god be there, Let him regard me, and accept my prayer.”