Retire to yon' fteep Mount, with groves o'er-fpread,
Which with an awful gloom his temple fhade.
With fear the modeft matron lifts her eyes,
And to the bright Ambaffadrefs replies:
O Goddess, yet to mortal eyes unknown!
But fure thy various charms confefs thee one :
O quick to Romulus thy votrefs bear!
With looks of love hè 'll fmile away my care;
In whate'er orb he fhines, my Heaven is there.
Then haftes with Iris to the holy grove,
the Mount Quirinal as they move,
A lambent flame glides downward through the air,
And brightens with a blaze Herfilia's hair.
Together on the bounding ray they rife,
And shoot a gleam of light along the skies.
With opening arms Quirinus met his bride,
Now Ora nam'd, and prefs'd her to his fide. -
The fhooting horn that on his forehead ftood,
His temples firft he feels, and with furprize
His touch confirms th' affurance of his eyes;
Straight to the fkies his horned front he rears,
And to the Gods directs thefe pious prayers:
If this portent be profperous, O decree
To Rome th' event; if otherwife, to me.
An altar then of turf he haftes to raise,
Rich gums in fragrant exhalations blaze;
The panting entrails crackle as they fry,
And boding fumes pronounce a mystery.
Soon as the augur faw the holy fire,
And victims with prefaging figns expire,
To Cippus then he turns his eyes with fpeed,
And views the horny honours of his head :
Then cry'd, Hail, conqueror! thy call obey,
Thofe omens I behold prefage thy fway.
Rome waits thy nod, unwilling to be free,
And owns thy fovereign power as Fate's decree.
He faid-and Cippus, ftarting at th' event,
Spoke in these words his pious difcontent:
Far hence, ye Gods, this execration fend,
And the great race of Romulus defend.
Better that I in exile live abhorr'd,
Than e'er the capitol fhould ftile me lord
This fpoke, he hides with leaves his omen'd head; Then prays, the fenate next convenes, and said:
augurs can forefee, a wretch is come,
Defign'd by destiny the bane of Rome.
Two horns (most strange to tell) his temples crown; :
If e'er he pass the walls, and gain the town,
Your laws are forfeit that ill-fated hour,
And liberty must yield to lawless power.
Your gates he might have enter'd; but this arm
Seiz'd the ufurper, and with-held the harm.
Hafte, find the monster out, and let him be
Condemn'd to all the fenate can decree;
Or ty'd in chains, or into exile thrown;
Or by the tyrant's death prevent your own.
The crowd fuch murmurs utter as they stand,
As fwelling furges breaking on the strand:
Or as when gathering gales fweep o'er the grove,,
And their tall heads the bending cedars move.
Each with confufion gaz'd, and then began
To feel his fellow's brows, and find the man.
Cippus then shakes his garland off, and cries,
The wretch you want, I offer to your eyes.
The anxious throng look'd down, and, fad in thought,
All wifh'd they had not found the fign they fought :
In hafte with laurel-wreaths his head they bind;
Such honour to fuch virtue was affign'd.
Then thus the fenate: Hear, O Cippus, hear
So God-like is thy tutelary care,
That, fince in Rome thyself forbids thy stay,
For thy abode those acres we convey
The plough-fhare can furround, the labour of a day. In deathless records thou shalt stand inroll'd,
And Rome's rich posts shall shine with horns of gold.
COULD he whom my diffembled rigour grieves, But know what torment to my foul it gives;
He'd find how fondly I return his flame,
And want myself the pity he would claim.
Immortal gods! why has your doom decreed
Two wounded hearts with equal pangs should bleed è
Since that great law, which your tribunal guides,
Has join'd in love whom destiny divides;
Repent, ye powers, the injuries you cause,
Or change our natures, or reform your laws.
Unhappy partner of my killing pain,
Think what I feel the moment you complain.
Each figh you utter wounds my tendereft part,
So much my lips misrepresent my heart.
When from your eyes the falling drops diftil,
My vital blood in every tear you spill :
And all thofe mournful agonies I hear,
Are but the echoes of my own despair.
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