The many-figur'd sculptures of the path
Half beauteous, half effac’d; the traveller
Such antique marbles to his native land
Oft' hence conveys; and ev'ry realm and state
With Rome's august remains, heroes and gods, 365
Deck their long galleries and winding groves ;
Yet miss we not th’innumerable thefts;
Yet still profuse of graces teems the waste.
Suffice it now th’Esquilian Mount to reach
With weary wing, and seek the sacred rests
Of Maro's humble tenement. A low
Plain wall reinains; a little sun-gilt heap,
Grotesque and wild: the gourd and olive brown
Weave the light roof; the gourd and olive fan
Their am'rous foliage, mingling with the vine, 370
Who drops her purple clusters thro' the green.
Here let me lie, with pleasing fancy sooth'd :
Here flow'd his fountain, here his laurels grew;
Here oft' the meek good man, the lofty bard,
Fram'd the celestial song, or social walk'd
With Horace and the ruler of the world :
Happy Augustus! who so well inspir'd
Could'st throw thy pomps and royalties aside,
Attentive to the wise, the great of soul,
And dignify thy mind. Thrice glorious days, 385
Auspicious to the Muses ! then reverd,
Then hallow'd was the fount, or secret shade,
Or open mountain, or whatever scene
The poet chose to tune th’ennobling rhyme
Melodious ; ev’n the rugged sons of War, 390
Ev’n the rude hinds, rever'd the poet's name:
But now-another age, alas ! is ours-
Yet will the Muse a little longer soar,
Unless the clouds of care weigh down her wing,
Since Nature's stores are shut with cruel hand, 395
And each aggrieves his brother; since in vain
The thirsty pilgrim at the fountain asks
Th'o'erflowing wave--enough--the plaint disdain.--
Seest thou yon' fane? ev’n now incessant time *
Sweeps her low mould'ring marbles to the dust; 400
And Phæbus' temple, nodding with its woods,
Threatens huge ruin o'er the small rotund,
'Twas there, beneath a fig-tree's umbrage broad,
Th' astonish'd swains with rey'rend awe beheld
Thee, O Quirinus! and thy brother twin,
405 Pressing the teat within a monster's grasp Sportive, while oft' the gaunt and rugged wolf Turn'd her stretch'd neck, and form'd your
tender So taught of Jove, ev’n the fell savage fed [limbs : Your sacred infancies ; your virtues, toils, 410 The conquests, glories, of th’Ausonian state, Wrapp'd in their secret seeds. Each kindred soul, Robust and stout, ye grapple to your hearts, And little Rome appears. Her cots arise, Green twigs of osier weave the slender walls, 415 Green rushes spread the roofs ; and here and there Opens beneath the rock the gloomy cave.
The temple of Romulus and Remus under mount Palatin.
Elate with joy, Etruscan Tiber views
Her spreading scenes enamelling his waves,
Her huts and hollow dells, and flocks and herds, 420
And gath’ring swains, and rolls his yellow car
To Neptune's court with more majestic train.
Her speedy growth aların'd the states around,
Jealous; yet soon, by wondrous virtue won,
They sink into her bosom. From the plough
Rose her dictators; fought, o'ercame, return'd;
Yes, to the plough return'd, and hail'd their peers;
For then no private pomp, no household state,
The public only swell d the gen'rous breast.
Who has not heard the Fabian heroes sung? 430
Dentatus’scars, or Mutius' flaming hand ?
How Manlius sav’d the Capitol ? the choice
Of steady Regulus ? As yet they stood,
Simple of life; as yet seducing wealth
Was unexplor’d, and shame of poverty 435
Yet unimagin'd—Shine not all the fields
With various fruitage ? murmur not the brooks
Along the flow'ry vallies ? they, content,
Feasted at Nature's hand, indelicate,
Blithe, in their easy taste, and only sought
To know their duties; that their only strife,
Their gen'rous strife, and greatly to perform.
They thro' all shapes of peril and of pain,
Intent on honour, dar'd in thickest death
To snatch the glorious deed. Nor Trebeia quellid,
Nur Thrasymene, nor Canna's bloody field, 446
Their dauntless courage: storming Hannibal In vain the thunder of the battle rollid; The thunder of the battle they return'd Back on his Punic shores, till Carthage fell, 450 And danger Aled afar. The City gleam'd With precious spoils : alas, prosperity! Ah, baneful state! yet ebb’d not all their strength In soft luxurious pleasures ; proud desire Of boundles sway, and feverish thirst of gold, 455 Rouz’d them again to battle, Beauteous Greece, Torn from her joys, in vain with languid arm Half rais d her rusty shield ; nor could avail The sword of Dacia, nor the Parthian dart, Nor yet the car of that fam'd British chief
460 Which seven brave years beneath the doubtless wing Of vi&t’ry dreadful roll'd its grinding wheels Over the bloody war : the Roman arms Triumph'd till Fame was silent of their foes. And now the world unrivall’d they enjoy'd 465 In proud security: the crested helm, The plated greave and corselet, hung unbracod; Nor clank'd their arms, the spear and sounding shield, But on the glitt’ring trophy to the wind.
Dissolv'd in ease and soft delights they lie, 470 Till ev'ry sun annoys, and ev'ry wind Has chilling force, and ev'ry rain offends : For now the frame no more is girt with strength Masculine, nor in lustiness of heart Laughs at the winter-storm and summer beam, 475
Elate with joy, Etruscan Tiber views
Her spreading scenes enamelling his waves,
Her huts and hollow dells, and flocks and herds, 420
And gath’ring swains, and rolls his yellow car
To Neptune's court with more majestic train.
Her speedy growth aların'd the states around,
Jealous; yet soon, by wondrous virtue won,
They sink into her bosom. From the plough 425
Rose her dictators; fought, o'ercame, return'd;
Yes, to the plough return'd, and hail'd their peers;
For then no private pomp, no household state,
The public only swell d the gen'rous breast.
Who has not heard the Fabian heroes sung? 430
Dentatus’scars, or Mutius' faming hard ?
How Manlius sav’d the Capitol ? the choice
Of steady Regulus ? As yet they stood,
Simple of life; as yet seducing wealth
Was unexplor’d, and shame of poverty 435
Yet unimagin’d-Shine not all the fields
With various fruitage ? murmur not the brooks
Along the flow'ry vallies ? they, content,
Feasted at Nature's hand, indelicate,
Blithe, in their easy taste, and only sought 440
To know their duties; that their only strife,
Their gen'rous strife, and greatly to performn.
They thro' all shapes of peril and of pain,
intent on honour, dar'd in thickest death
To snatch the glorious deed. Nor Trebeia quellid,
Vor Thrasymene, nor Canna's bloody field, 446
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