May tigers there, and all the favage kind, Sad folitary haunts and filent deserts find; In gloomy vaults, and nooks of palaces, May th' unmolested lionefs Her brinded whelps fecurely lay, Or, coucht, in dreadful flumbers waste the day. Th' illuftrious exiles unconfin'd Shall triumph far and near, and rule mankind. Through Afric's fands their triumphs they fhall fpread, And the long train of victories purfue To Nile's yet undiscover'd head. Riches the hardy foldiers fhall defpife, And look on gold with un-defiring eyes, Nor the disbowel'd earth explore In fearch of the forbidden ore; Thofe glittering ills, conceal'd within the mine, The piercing colds and fultry heats, Till ftorms and tempefts their pursuits confine; This only law the victor fhall restrain, If none his guilty hand employ To build again a fecond Troy, If none the rash design pursue, Nor tempt the vengeance of the gods anew. A curfe there cleaves to the devoted place, Thrice fhould her captive dames to Greece return, The mighty strains, in lyric numbers bound, THE THE VESTA L FROM OVID DE FASTIS, LIB. III. EL. 1. "Blanda quies victis furtim fubrepit ocellis, &e." S the fair Vestal to the fountain came, (Let none be startled at a Veftal's name :) Tir'd with the walk, fhe laid her down to rest, And to the winds expos'd her glowing breast, To take the freshness of the morning-air, And gather'd in a knot her flowing hair; While thus the rested, on her arm reclin'd, The hoary willows waving with the wind, And feather'd choirs that warbled in the fhade, And purling ftreams that through the meadow stray'd, In drowsy murmurs lull'd the gentle maid. The God of War beheld the virgin lie, The God beheld her with a lover's eye; And, by fo tempting an occafion press'd, The beauteous maid, whom he beheld, poffefs'd: Conceiving as the flept, her fruitful womb Swell'd with the Founder of immortal Rome. } OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. воок II. T THE STORY OF PHAETON. HE fun's bright palace, on high columns rais'd, With burnish'd gold and flaming jewels blaz'd; The folding gates diffus'd a silver light, And with a milder gleam refresh'd the fight; On earth a different landskip courts the eyes, Here Here Phaeton, ftill gaining on th' ascent, To his fufpected father's palace went, Till preffing forward through the bright abode, Phœbus beheld the youth from off his throne; Surpriz'd at all the wonders of the place; And cries aloud, "What wants my fon? For know "My son thou art, and I must call thee so.” "Light of the world," the trembling youth replies "Illuftrious parent! fince you don't despise "The parent's name, fome certain token give, "That I may Clymenè's proud boast believe, "Nor longer under falfe reproaches grieve." The tender Sire was touch'd with what he faid, And flung the blaze of glories from his head, And bid the youth advance: " My fon (faid he) "Come to thy father's arms! for Clymenè "Has told thee true; a parent's name I own, And deem thee worthy to be call'd my fon. |