...there in squalid huts ' Awhile he lay, and trod the hostile dust ' Of Carthage, and his ruin matched with hers: ' Each from the other's fate some solace drew, ' And prostrate, pardoned heaven. On Libya n soil ' Fresh fury gathering, next, when Fortune smiled 'The prisons he threw wide and freed the slaves. ' Forth rushed the murderous bands, their melted chains ' Forged into weapons for his ...