There the large branches of the long-liv'd hart,
With Southern-wood, their odours ftrong impart.
The monsters of the land, the ferpents fell,
Fly far
Securely thus they pass the nights away;
away, and fhun the hoftile fmell.
And if they chance to meet a wound by day,
The Pfyllian artists straight their skill display.
Then ftrives the Leach the power of charms to show,
And bravely combats with the deadly foe:
With spittle firft, he marks the part around,
And keeps the poison prifoner in the wound;
Then fudden he begins the magic fong,
And rolls the numbers hasty o'er his tongue;
Swift he runs on; nor paufes once for breath,
To ftop the progrefs of approaching death:
He fears the cure might fuffer by delay,
And life be loft but for a moment's stay.
Thus oft, though deep within the veins it lies,
By magic numbers chac'd, the mifchief flies:
But if it hear too flow, if still it stay,
And fcorn the potent charmer to obey;
With forceful lips he faftens on the wound,
Drains out, and pits the venom to the ground. 1590
Thus, by long use and oft experience taught,
He knows from whence his hurt the patient got;
He proves the part through which the poifon paft,
And knows each various ferpent, by the taste.
The warriors thus reliev'd, amidst their pains, 1595 Held on their paffage through the defert plains And now the filver emprefs of the right Had loft, and twice regain d, her borrow'd light,
While Cato, wandering o'er the wafteful field,
Patient in all his labours, the beheld.
At length condens'd in clods the fands appear,
And fhew a better foil and country near:
Now from afar thin tufts of trees arife,
And scattering cottages delight their eyes.
But when the foldier once beheld again
The raging lion shake his horrid mane,
What hopes of better lands his foul poffeft!
What joys he felt, to view the dreadful beaft!
Leptis at last they reach'd, that nearest lay,
There free from ftorms, and the fun's parching ray,
At eafe they pafs'd the wintery year away.
When fated with the joys which flaughters yield,
Retiring Cæfar left Emathia's field;
His other cares laid by, he fought alone
To trace the footsteps of his flying fon.
Led by the guidance of reporting fame,
First to the Thracian Hellefpont he came.
Here young Leander perifh'd in the flood,
And here the tower of mournful Hero ftood:
Here, with a narrow ftream, the flowing tide,
Europe, from wealthy Afia, does divide.
From hence the curious victor paffing o'er,
Admiring fought the fam'd Sigean thore.
1 here might be tombs of Grecian chiefs behold, Renown d in facred verse by bards of old.
There the long ruins of the walls appear'd,
Once by great Neptune, and Apollo, rear`d:
Ther. Itood old Troy, a venerable name;.
For ever confecrate to deathleis faue.
Now blafted moffy trunks with branches fear,
Brambles and weeds, a loathfome foreft rear ;
Where once, in palaces of regal state,
Old Priam, and the Trojan princes, fat.
Where temples once, on lofty columns born,
Majestic did the wealthy town adorn,
All rude, all waste and defolate is lay'd,
And even the ruin'd ruins are decay'd.
Here Cæfar did each story'd place furvey,
Here faw the rock, where, Neptune to obey,
Hefione was bound the monster's prey.
Here, in the covert of a fecret grove,
The bleft Anchifes claíp'd the queen of love :
Here fair Oenone play'd, here stood the cave
Where Paris once the fatal judgment gave;
Here lovely Ganymede to heaven was born,
Each rock, and every tree, recording tales adorn.
Here all that does of Xanthus' ftream remain,
Creeps a fmall brook along the dufty plain.
Whilft carelefs and fecurely on they pafs,
The Phrygian guide forbids to prefs the grafs; 1650 This place, he faid, for ever facred keep,
For here the facred bones of Hector fleep.
Then warns him to obferve, where, rudely cast,
Disjointed ftones lay broken and defac'd:
Here his laft fate, he cries, did Priam prove;
Here, on this altar of Hercæan Jove.
O poefy divine! O facred fong!
To thee, bright fame and length of days belong;
Thou, goddefs! thou eternity can't give,
And bid fecure the mortal hero live.
Nor, Cæfar, thou difdain, that I rehearse
Thee, and thy wars, in no ignoble verse;
Since, if in aught the Latian Muse excel,
My name, and thine, immortal I foretel;
Eternity our labours fhall reward,
And Lucan flourish, like the Grecian bard;
My numbers fhall to lateft times convey
The tyrant Cæfar, and Pharfalia's day.
When long the chief his wondering eyes had caft, On ancient monuments of ages paft;
Of living turf an altar straight he made,
Then on the fire rich gums and incenfe laid,
And thus, fuccefsful in his vows, he pray'd.
Ye fhades divine! who keep this facred place,
And thou, Eneas! author of my race,
Ye powers, whoe'er from burning Troy did come,
Domeftic gods of Alba, and of Rome,
Who ftill preferve your ruin'd country's name,
And on your altars guard the Phrygian flame :
And thou, bright maid, who art to men deny'd;
Pallas, who doft thy facred priviledge confide
To Rome, aud in her inmoft temple hide;
Hear, and aufpicious to my vows incline,
To me, the greatest of the Julian line:
Profper my future ways; and lo! I vow
Your ancient ftate and honours to beftow;
Aufonian hands fhall Phrygian walls restore,
And Rome repay, what Troy conferr'd before.
He faid; and hafted to his fleet away,
Swift to repair the lofs of this delay.
Up fprung the wind, and, with a freshening gale,
The kind north-weft fill'd every swelling fail;
Light o'er the foamy waves the navy flew,
Till Afia's fhores and Rhodes no more they vicw.
Six times the night her fable round had made,
The feventh now paffing on, the chief furvey'd
High Pharos fhining through the gloomy fhade;
The coast descry'd, he waits the rising day,
directs his way.
There wide with crouds o'erfpread he fees the fhore,
And echoing hears the loud tumultuous roar.
Diftruftful of his fate, he gives command
To ftand aloof, nor trust the doubted land;
When lo! a meffenger appears, to bring
A fatal pledge of peace from Ægypt's king:
Hid in a veil, and closely cover'd o'er,
Pompey's pale visage in his hand he bore.
An impious orator the tyrant fends,
Who thus, with fitting words, the monstrous gift commends.
Hail! first and greateft of the Roman name; In power moft mighty, most renown'd in fame: Hail! rightly now, the world's unrival'd lord ! That benefit thy Pharian friends afford.
My king bestows the prize thy arms have fought,
For which Pharfalia's field, in vain, was fought. 1715
No task remains for future labours now;
The civil wars are finifh'd at a blow.
To heal Theffalia's ruins, Pompey fled
To us for fuccour, and by us lies dead.
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