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Here Italy the ambient Sea divides,

On either fide embrac'd by fwelling Tides.

She the known World one mighty Empire made,
And Provinces remote her Laws obey'd;

Rome o'er the fartheft Ifles her Eagles fpread,
And vanquish'd Kings before her Legions fled;
Religion only now exalts her Tow'rs,
And Papal Cenfure awes the Civil Pow'rs.
The Latian Youth enervate now forget
The hardy Toil, nor prone to martial Heat,
Unactive lie, and please their wanton Thoughts-
By murm'ring Fountains, or in fleepy Grots.

BUT great Remains show what the Whole has been, And the vaft Pile is in its Ruin seen ;

The Latian Soil, whofe pregnant Womb replete
With vig'rous Motion, and enliv'ning Heat,
Blefs'd Souls produc'd, wife, diligent, and brave,
Heroes defign'd to rule Mankind and fave;
Decay'd by Age, yet in her weaker Veins
Prolifick Warmth, and active Seed retains.
Oft from the Palaces of modern Rome
Fam'd Sages and immortal Worthies come;
Who Kingdoms prop, and make the Nations blefs'd;
On whom th' united World might fafely reft.
Such Fulius now o'er Gallia's Realm prefides,
Directs her Counfels, and her People guides;
His Conduct fteddy, and unmov'd his Soul,
Whofe fix'd Refolves no adverfe Pow'rs controul.
The antient Roman is in Julius feen,

What once the Scipio's were, and Fabii have been.

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With

With dusky Difcontent the Spaniards low'r,

And curfe the Hand that checks their growing Pow'r.
But him no Anger moves, nor rancour'd Hate,
Tho hellish Furies would distract the State,
Curs'd Fiends, from penfive Night and Chaos fent,
To ftir up mutual Wars, and Strife foment.
Envy her felf recalls her fnaky Brood,

And has unwilling own'd their Rage subdu'd :
Their faft'ning Teeth still unsuccessful were;
Themselves they gnaw, and their own Bowels tear.
But tho his vengeful Arm might crush with ease
Those foolish Malecontents, whom none can please ;
Like Cafar he forgives their causless Hate,
And by his Mercy would reclaim th' Ingrate.
Julius inherits all of Cafar's Fame,

And the fame Vertues now adorn the facred Name.
But Italy no longer can affume

The glorious Name of old, Cafarean Rome :
For into various States and Dukedoms tofs'd,

She keeps the Title, but the Grandeur's loft.
Fled is the Vigour of her antient Race,
And Subtilty and Fraud fupply the Place.

A Cunning, oil'd with Words, is now their Choice,
A foothing Temper, and bewitching Voice.

The fottish World, not circumfcrib'd by Arms,
Yields to prevailing Eloquence's Charms.
The fupple Nation with a fervile Fear
Now fawns and flatters in a Prince's Ear.

A poor Italian Starveling is fo low,

He'll creep, and cringe, and to the Devil go;
Bid fair for Hell, with all his Might and Main,
If by the way he can a Penny gain:
Familiar to all Shapes, this Slave to time
Will fhun no Danger, and refuse no Crime,
Yet think the Nation not so loft to Shame,
Without one Vertue to redeem its Fame:

Th' Italian Genius claims a fovereign Part,
For every Science form'd, and every Art;
No Cloud embraces, but his fober Views
With indefatigable Pain pursues ;

And fast'ning on his Wishes and Defires,
No diftant Hopes, no Time his Courage tires :
He does no Hazards fly, no Labour spare,
But fhuns Expence with Providential Care :
Hence Fortune his fuperior Mind beftrides,
And equally her faithlefs Smiles derides ;
Alike regardless of her threatning Frowns,
While Industry th' Italian Name renowns:
Nigh Tyber's Banks still Phœbus does inspire
Illuftrious Wits, ftill tunes the Roman Lyre:
Still on their well-known Hills the Mufes rove,
New Virgils fing of Arms, new Ovids love,
And Horaces ftill haunt the fam'd Aufonian Grove.

Yet is it ftrange that Monarchs fhould obey
A Nation fall'n from high Imperial Sway:

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Bred in a crafty Politician's School,

From fubject Italy they learn to rule:

She fends us Statesmen, and new Kings submit
Their conquering Gold to her commanding Wit.

IF, roaming thence, your curious Eye designs
To fee thofe Regions where the Sun declines,
If you determine for the Coafts of Spain,
And the ftern Nations of the Western Reign;
There hardy Valour, and ambitious Pride,
With Vanity and Avarice refide.

The Thirst of Empire leads the Madmen on,
And for their Glory, Europe is undone :
Kingdoms muft fall, and Kings like Victims die,
To raife their airy Column to the Sky:
But while fhe aims to keep the World in awe,
And Yoke it to her univerfal Law;

Till her Designs are to Perfection brought,
She tries the last Extent, and Pain of Thought:
She wants nor Art, nor Labour, but infpires
Her enterprizing Sons with high Defires:

She knows no Limits, and no Law will keep,

Tho Crowns on Crowns are pil'd on her triumphant

Heap.

New Winds may mutter, and new Oceans roar,

And vainly bellow on a foreign Shore;
In other Skies malignant Stars may fhine,
And fcaly Monsters roll the Western Brine,

Yet nor their Courage fhock, nor check their bold De

fign.

Nought

Nought can their itching Luft of Empire cure,
They flight all Dangers, and all Toils endure:
To gain a Scepter, thro the Globe they run,
Freeze in all Snows, and fry in every

Sun;

Nor parching Thirst can this strong Wish restrain,
Nor Hunger scaring with her grifly Train.
Yet, tho this haughty and affecting State
Thus labours with a Pallion to be great,
Tho none more thirsty of superior Sway;
None with a more fubmiffive Mind obey :
No Hardship their experienc'd Valour damps,
Enur'd to Wars, and old in frequent Camps :
Their paffive Souls adore a General's Nod,
And every Frown's the Thunder of a God:
Such is the Temper of this Martial Race,
By this they Rule, in this their Vertue place:
Intent on Glory, they are feldom found
To manage and improve their native Ground:
To Till and Sow are things beneath their Care;
To conquer Countries is their grand Affair:
Hence Bacchus mourns in the neglected Vines,
And flighted Ceres in the Valleys pines:

:

For them the Sword and glittering Spear was made;
For Clowns the Plough, the Pruning-Hook, and Spade
Nor are the Spaniards fam'd for Arms alone;
Intrigues of State, and Counfels are their own:
In their close Breaft they brood, fecure from Sight,
Deep as the Grave, and filent as the Night:
Nay, to their Guilt they Saints and Angels ask,
And play the Villain in Religion's Mask :

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