To raise new forces, and return to field; But as one mischief draws another on, A sudden tempest takes him by the way, And casts him up near to the coasts of Hippon,[381] Where th' adverse navy, sent to scour the seas, Did hourly keep their ordinary course; Where seeing himself at anchor slightly shipp'd: Besieg'd, betray'd by wind, by land, by sea (All raging-mad to rig his better vessels, The little while this naval conflict lasted), Behold, his own was fiercely set upon, Which being sore beaten, till it brake again, Ended the lives of his best fighting-men. There did the remnant of our Roman nobles, Before the foe and in their captain's presence, Die bravely with their falchions in their fists. When Scipio, that saw his ships through-gall'd, And by the foe fulfill'd with fire and blood: His people put to sword: sea, earth, and hell, And heaven itself conjur'd to injure him-- Steps to the poop, and with a princely visage Looking upon his weapon dy'd with blood, Sighing he sets it to his breast, and said: Since all our hopes are by the gods beguil'd, What refuge now remains for my distress, But thee, my dearest ne'er-deceiving sword? Yea, thee, my latest fortune's firmest hope, By whom I am assur'd this hap to have, That, being freeborn, I shall not die a slave! Scarce had he said, but, cruelly resolv'd, He drench'd it to the pommel through his sides, That fro' the wound the smoky blood ran bubbling. Wherewith he stagger'd; and I stepp'd to him To have embrac'd him: but he, being afraid T' attend the mercy of his murd'ring foe, That still pursued him, and oppress'd his ships, Crawl'd to the deck, and, life with death to ease, Headlong he threw himself into the seas.