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Third Song after the third Act.
Chorus of Roman Senators.
ARK is the Path poor Mortals tread:
Wisdom it self a Guide does need: We little thought, when Cæfar bled,
That a worse Cæfar would succeed. And are we under such a hopeless Curse, That we can never Change, but for the worse?
Under Pretence of necessary Force
By which we our own felves Enthrall, These, without Blushes, or Remorse,
Proscribe the Best, impoverish All. The Gauls themselves, our greatest Foes,
Could offer Terms no worse than those.
That Cæfar with Ambitious Thoughts
Had Virtues too, his very Foes cou'd find : These equal him in all his Faults,
But never in his noble Mind. That Free-born Spirits shou'd obey
Wretches who know not how to Sway!
Too late we now repent our hasty Choice;
In vain bemoan so quick a Turn; Dejected Rome cries with united Voice,
Better, a thousand times, that we had born Our Ills a while, with Patience, and with Eafe, Than try'd a Fatal Cure much worse than our
Fourth SONG after the fourth Act.
Chorus of Soldiers in the Army of Brutus and
Till the fierce Clangor fires our Blood: Let all the Neighb'ring Ecchoes ring
With Wishes for our Country's Good: 1 And, for Reward, of the juft Gods we claim A Life with Freedom, or a Death with Fame.
May Rome be freed from War's Allarms,
And Mulets too heavy to be born: May she beware of Foreign Arms,
And send them back with noble Scorn. And, for Reward, &c.
May she no more confide in Friends
Who nothing farther understood,
To waste her Wealth, and spill her Blood. And, for Reward, &c.
Our greatest Patriots Jove restrain
From Faction, which they Wisdom call; From the low Thoughts of little Gain,
And hazarding the losing all.
Our Arms we'll eagerly prepare,
Then, to the glorious Combat fly; All disingag’d from future Care, ici
Except to Overcome, or Dye. And, fof Reward, &c.