How their wild monarch, like the beftial race,
Spreads the pollution of his lewd embrace?
Unaw'd by reverence of connubial rites,
In multitudes, luxurious, he delights:
When gorg'd with feafting, and inflam'd with wine,
No joys can fate him, and no laws confine;
Forbidding Nature, then, commands in vain,
From fifters and from mothers to abftain.
The Greek and Roman, with a trembling ear,
Th' unwilling crime of Cedipus may hear;
While Parthian kings like deeds, with glory,
And boaft inceftuous titles to the throne.
If crimes like thefe they can fecurely brave,
What laws, what power, fhall thy Cornelia save?
Think, how the helpless matron may be led,
The thousandth harlot, to the royal bed.
Though when the tyrant clafps his noble flave,
And hears to whom her plighted hand fhe gave,
Her beauties oft in fcorn he fhall prefer,
And choose t' infult the Roman name in her.
These are the powers to whom thou would'ft fubmit,
And Rome's revenge and Craffus' quite forget.
Thy cause, preferr'd to his, becomes thy shame,
And blots, in common, thine and Cæfar's name.
With how much greater glory might you join,
To drive the Daci, or to free the Rhine!
How well your conquering legions might you lead, 555 'Gainft the fierce Bactrian and the haughty Mede! Level proud Babylon's afpiring domes,
And with their spoils inrich our flaughter'd leaders
No longer, Fortune! let our friendship laft,
Our peace, ill-omen'd, with the barbarous Eft; 560
If civil strife with Cæfar's conquest end,
To Afia let his profperous arms extend:
Eternal wars there let the victor wage,
And on proud Parthia pour the Roman rage.
There I, there all, his victories may bless,
And Rome herself make vows for his fuccefs.
Whene'er thou pass the cold Araxes o'er,
An aged fhade fhall greet thee on the shore,
Transfix'd with arrows, mournful, pale, and hoar.
And art thou (fhall he cry, complaining) come
In peace
and friendship, to thefe foes of Rome?
Thou! from whofe hand we hop'd revenge in vain,
Poor naked ghofts, a thin unbury'd train,
That flit, lamenting, o'er this dreary plain?
On every fide new objects fhall difclofe
Some mournful monument of Roman woes;
On every wall fresh marks thou shalt descry,
Where pale Hefperian heads were fix'd on high:
Each river, as he rolls his purple tide,
Shall own his waves in Latian flaughter dy'd.
If fights like thefe thou canft with patience bear,
What are the horrors which thy foul would fear?
Ev'n Cæfar's felf with joy may be beheld,
Inthron'd on flaughter in Emathia's field.
Say then, we grant, thy cautions were not vain, 585
Of Punic frauds and Juba's faithless reign;
Abounding Egypt thall receive thee yet,
And yield, unqueftion'd, a fecure retreat..
By nature ftrengthen'd with a dangerous ftrand,
Her Syrts and untry'd channels guard the land.
Rich in the fatnefs of her plenteous foil,
She plants her only confidence in Nile.
Her monarch, bred beneath thy guardian cares,
His crown, the largefs of thy bounty, wears.
Nor let unjust suspicions brand his truth;
Candour and innocence ftill dwell with youth.
Truft not a power accustom'd to be great,
And vers'd in wicked policies of state.
Old kings, long harden'd in the regal trade,
By intereft and by craft alone are sway'd,
And violate with eafe the leagues they made:
While new ones ftill make conscience of the truft,
True to their friends, and to their fubjects juft.
He spoke; the liftening fathers all were mov'd,
And with concurring votes the thought approv'd. 605
So much ev'n dying Liberty prevail'd,
When Pompey's fuffrage, and his counfel fail'd.
And now Cilicia's coaft the fleet forfake,
And o'er the watery plain for Cyprus make.
Cyprus to love's ambrofial goddess dear,
For ever grateful smoke the altars there
Indulgent still fhe hears the Paphian vows,
And loves the favourite feas from whence the rofe.
So Fame reports, if we may credit Fame,
When her fond tales the birth of gods proclaim,
Unborn, and from eternity the fame.
The craggy clifts of Cyprus quickly past,
The chief runs fouthward o'er the ocean vast.
Nor views he, through the murky veil of night,
The Cafian mountains far diftinguish'd height,
The high-hung lantern, or the beamy light.
Hap'ly at leng the labouring canvas bore
Full on the fartheft bounds of Ægypt's fhore,
Where near Pelufium parting Nile descends,
And in her utmost eastern channel ends.
"Twas now the time, when equal Jove on high
Had hung the golden balance of the sky :
But, ah! not long fuch just proportions last,
The righteous feafon foon was chang'd and pafs'd;
And Spring's incroachment, on the shortening fhade,
Was fully to the wintery nights repaid:
When to the chief from shore they made report,
That, near high Cafium, lay the Pharian court.
This known, he thither turns his ready fail,
The light yet lafting with the favouring gale.
The fleet arriv'd, the news flies fwiftly round,
And their new guefts the troubled court confound.
The time was short; howe'er the council met,
Vile minifters, a monftrous motley fet.
Of thefe, the chief in honour, and the best,
Was old Acherëus the Memphian priest:
In Ifis and Ofis he believ'd,
And reverend tales, from fire to fon receiv'd;
Could mark the fwell of Nile's increasing tide,
And many an Apis in his time had dy'd;
Yet was his age with gentleft manners fraught,
Humbly he spoke, and modeftly he taught.
With good intent the pious feer arose,
And told how much their ftate to Pompey owes :
What large amends their monarch ought to make,
Both for his own, and for his father's fake.
But fate had plac'd a subtler speaker there,
A tongue more fitted for a tyrant's ear,
Pothinus, deep in arts of mifchief read,
Who thus, with false perfuafion, blindly led
The eafy king, to doom his guardian dead:
To ftrictest juftice many ills belong,
And honefty is often in the wrong:
Chiefly when stubborn rules her zealots pufh,
To favour those whom fortune means to crufh.
But thou, oh royal Ptolemy! be wife;
Change with the gods, and fly whom fortune flies. Not earth, from yon high heavens which we admire, Not from the watery element the fire,
Are fever'd by distinction half fo wide,
As interest and integrity divide.
The mighty power of kings no more prevails,
When justice comes with her deciding scales.
Freedom for all things, and a lawless sword,
Alone support an arbitrary lord.
He that is cruel must be bold in ills,
And find his fafety from the blood he spills.
For piety, and virtue's starving rules,
To mean retirements let them lead their fools:
There, may they still ingloriously be good;
None can be fafe in courts, who blush at blood.
Nor let this fugitive defpife thy years,
Or think a name, like his, can caufe thy fears:
Exert thyself, and let him feel thy power,
And know, that we dare drive him from our fhore. 680
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