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Book ¥.



Enough of direful hail and snow
Hath Jove now sent on earth below;
The sacred temples felt the blow

His red arm hurld,

The city trembled ; nations shook ;
For Pyrrha's flood again they look,
When Proteus' herd the deeps forsook

To mount the world ;

When in the elms the fish were mesh'd, Where once had been the wild-dove's nest; And timid deer could find no rest,

But swam for life.

No lack of omens !—Tiber's

rage Dash'd 'gainst the towers of Numa's age, Then rush'd with Vesta's fanes t'

engage In eddying strife!

Iliæ dum se nimium querenti
Jactat ultorem ; vagus et sinistra
Labitur ripâ, Jove non probante, ux-

orius amnis.

Audiet cives acuisse ferrum,
Quo graves Persæ melius perirent;
Audiet pugnas, vitio parentum

Rara juventus.

Quem vocet Divûm populus ruentis Imperî rebus ? prece quâ fatigent Virgines sanctæ minus audientem

Carmina Vestam?

Cui dabit partes scelus expiandi
Jupiter? tandem venias, precamur,
Nube candentes humeros amictus,

Augur Apollo.

Sive tu mavis, Erycina ridens,
Quam Jocus circumvolat, et Cupido:
Sive neglectum genus, et nepotes

Respicis, auctor,

Heu! nimis longo satiate ludo; Quem juvat clamor, galeæque leves, Acer et Mauri peditis cruentum

Vultus in hostem;

Sive mutatâ juvenem figurâ
Ales in terris imitaris, almæ

Whilst that uxorious river-god,
Without great Jove's approving nod,
Where his complaining Ilia trod

O'erflows the bank.

Our youth, less numerous than of yore,
Shall list to vile rebellion's roar;-
"Twere better Parthians fell before

Their serried rank !

What god will save our falling state ?
The Vestals would avert our fate-
But Vesta has been deaf of late

To all their prayers !

Who shall thy wrath, great Jove, appease? Prophetic Phoebus ! mayst thou please, Veil'd in a cloud, to come and ease

Our vex'd affairs.

Or thou sweet goddess of the doves,
Surrounded by the Smiles and Loves,
If thou wilt leave thy Paphian groves,

Avert our fate;

Or, thou, great founder, mighty Mars!
Gorged to the full with bloody wars,
Appease the civil strife and jars

Which goad the state.

Or thou, wing'd son of Maia mild, -
O come, and be thou reconciled,

Filius Maiæ, patiens vocari

Cæsaris ultor :

Serus in cælum redeas : diuque
Lætus intersis Populo Quirini ;
Neve te nostris vitiis iniquum

Ocyor aura

Tollat : hic magnos potius triumphos, Hic ames dici pater, atque princeps : Neu sinas Medos equitare inultos,

Te duce, Cæsar.

Cæsar's avenger to be styled,

In human shape :

O! late mayst thou return to heaven :-
To Romans may thy aid be given,
Nor by our vices be thou driven

On winds t'escape!

Here, as Augustus, long preside-
Our country's father, prince, and pride;
Till Medes no more, incursive, ride-

But, awe-struck, gape !

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