Where winter's hand the Scythian feas conftrains, 35
And binds the frozen floods in crystal chains ;
Where-e'er the fhady night and day-fpring come,
All had fubmitted to the yoke of Rome.

O Rome! if flaughter be thy only care,
If fuch thy fond defire of impious war;
Turn from thyfelf, at leaft, the deftin'd wound,
Till thou art miftrefs of the world around,
And none to conquer but thyself be found.
Thy foes as yet a jufter war afford,

And barbarous blood remains to glut thy fword.
But fee! her hands on her own vitals feize,
And no deftruction but her own can please.
Behold her fields unknowing of the plow!
Behold her palaces and towers laid low !
See where o'erthrown the maffy column lies,
While weeds obfcene above the cornice rife.

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Here gaping wide, half-ruin'd walls remain,
There mouldering pillars nodding roots sustain.
The landskip, once in various beauty fpread,
With yellow harvests and the flowery mead,
Difplays a wild uncultivated face,
Which bushy brakes and brambles vile disgrace:
No human footstep prints th' untrodden green,
No chearful maid nor villager is feen.
Ev'n in her cities famous once and great,
Where thoufands crowded in the noify street,
No found is heard of human voices now,

But whistling winds through empty dwellings blow;

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While paffing strangers wonder, if they spy
One fingle melancholy face go by.

65

Nor Pyrrhus' fword, nor Canna's fatal field,
Such univerfal defolation yield:

Her impious fons have her worst foes surpass'd,
And Roman hands have laid Hefperia waste.

70

But if our fates feverely have decreed No way but this for Nero to fucceed; If only thus our heroes can be gods, And earth must pay for their divine abodes; If heaven could not the thunderer obtain, Till giants wars made room for Jove to reign, Tis juft, ye gods, nor ought we to complain : Oppreft with death though dire Pharsalia groan, Though Latian blood the Punic ghosts atone; Though Pompey's hapless fons renew the war, And Munda view the flaughter'd heaps from far; 80 Though meagre famine in Perufia reign,

Though Mutina with battles fill the plain;

Though Leuca's ifle, and wide Ambracia's bay,
Record the rage of Actium's fatal day;

Though fervile hands are arm'd to man the fleet,
And on Sicilian feas the navies meet;

All crimes, all horrors, we with joy regard,
Since thon, O Cæfar, art the great reward.

Vaft are the thanks thy grateful Rome should pay
To wars, which ufher-in thy facred sway.
When, the great bufinefs of the world atchiev'd,
Late by the willing stars thou art receiv'd,
Through all the blifsful feats the news fhall roll,
And heaven refound with joy from pole to pole.

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Whether

Whether great Jove resign supreme command,
And truft his fceptre to thy abler hand;
Or if thou choose the empire of the day,
And make the fun's unwilling fteeds obey;
Aufpicious if thou drive the flaming team,
While earth rejoices in thy gentler beam;
Where-e'er thou reign, with one confenting voice,
The gods and nature shall approve thy choice.
But, oh! whatever be thy godhead great,
Fix not in regions too remote thy feat;

Nor deign thou near the frozen bear to shine,
Nor where the fultry fouthern stars decline;
Lefs kindly thence thy influence fhall come,
And thy bleft rays obliquely visit Rome.
Prefs not too much on any part the sphere:
Hard were the task thy weight divine to bear;
Soon would the axis feel th' unufual load,
And groaning bend beneath th' incumbent god :
O'er the mid orb more equal shalt thou rise,
And with a jufter balance fix the skies.
Serene for ever be that azure space,

No blackening clouds the purer heaven disgrace,
Nor hide from Rome her Cæfar's radiant face.
Then fhall mankind confent in fweet accord,
And warring nations fheath the wrathful sword;
Peace shall the world in friendly leagues compose,
And Janus' dreadful gates for ever close.
To me thy present godhead stands confest,
Oh let thy facred fury fire my breast!

So thou vouchsafe to hear, let Phoebus dwell
Still uninvok'd in Cyrrha's myftic cell;

By me uncall'd, let fprightly Bacchus reign,
And lead the dance on Indian Nyfa's plain.
To thee, O Cæfar, all my vows belong;
Do thou alone infpire the Roman fong.

And now the mighty talk demands our care,
The fatal fource of difcord to declare;
What cause accurft produc'd the dire event,
Why rage fo dire the madding nations rent,
And peace was driven away by one confent.
But thus the malice of our fate commands,
And nothing great to long duration stands;
Afpiring Rome had rifen too much in height,
And funk beneath her own unwieldy weight.
So fhall one hour at laft this globe control,
Break up the vaft machine, diffolve the whole,
And time no more through meafur'd ages roll.
Then Chaos hoar fhall feize his former right,
And reign with anarchy and eldest night;
The starry lamps shall combat in the sky,
And loft and blended in each other die;

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135

M

145

Quench'd in the deep the heavenly fires fhall fall,
And ocean caft abroad o'er-fpread the ball :
The moon no more her well-known courfe fhall run,
But rife from western waves, and meet the fun;
Ungovern'd fhall the quit her ancient way,

Herfelf ambitious to fupply the day:
Confufion wild fhall all around be hurl'd,
And difcord and diforder tear the world.
Thus power and greatness to destruction haste,
Thus bounds to human happiness are plac'd,
And Jove forbids profperity to laft.

150

Yet

Yet Fortune, when fhe meant to wreak her hate,
From foreign foes preferv'd the Roman ftate,
Nor fuffer'd barbarous hands to give the blow,
That laid the queen of earth and ocean low;
To Rome herself for enemies fhe fought,
And Rome herfelf her own deftruction wrought;
Rome, that ne'er knew three lordly heads before,
First fell by fatal partnership of power.

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170

What blind ambition bids your force combine?
What means this frantic league in which you join?
Mistaken men! who hope to fhare the spoil,
And hold the world within one common toil!
While earth the feas fhall in her bofom bear,
While earth herself fhall hang in ambient air,
While Phoebus fhall his conftant task renew;
While through the Zodiac night shall day pursue;
No faith, no truft, no friendship, fhall be known
Among the jealous partners of a throne;
But he who reigns, shall strive to reign alone.
Nor feek for foreign tales to make this good,
Were not our walls firft built in brother's blood?
Nor did the feud for wide dominion rife,
Nor was the world their impious fury's prize;
Divided power contention still affords,
And for a village ftrove the petty lords.

The fierce triumvirate combin'd in peace,
Preferv'd the bond but for a little space,
Still with an aukward difagreeing grace.
'Twas not a league by inclination made,
But bare agreement, fuch as friends perfuade.

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Defire