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While thus sbe spake, I fainter heard the peals,
The flock grew calm again, and I, the road
Beware of desperate steps. The darkest day,
Bleeding from the Roman rods,
III, Princess ! if our aged eyes
Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment tics
All the terrors of our tongues.
In the blood that she has spilt;
Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Tramples on a thousand states;
Hark! the Gaul is at her gates!
Heedless of a soldier's name,
Harmony the path to fame.
From the forests of our land,
Shall a wider world command.
VIII. Regions Cæsar never knew
Thy posterity shall sway; Where his eagles never flew,
None invincible as they,
Pregnant with celestial fire,
Felt them in her boson glow :
XI. Ruffans, pitilees as proud,
Heaven awards the vengeance due ; Empire is on us bestowed,
Shame and ruin wait for you,
H E ROI S M.
THERE was a time when Ætna's silent fire
Revolving seasons, fruitless as they pass,
Without a soil to invite the tiller's
care, Or blade, that might redeem it from despair. Yet time at length (what will not time achieve :) Clothes it with earth, and bids the produce live. Once more the spiry myrtle crowns the glade, And ruminating Hocks enjoy the shade. Oh bliss precarious, and unsafe retreats, Oh charming paradise of short-lived sweets! The self-same gale, that wafts the fragrance round, Brings to the distant ear a sullen sound: Again the mountain feels the imprisoned foe, Again pours ruin on the vale below. Ten thousand swains the wasted scene deplore, That only future ages can restore.
Ye monarchs, whom the lure of honour draws, Who write in blood the merits of your cause, Who strike the blow, then plead your own defence, Glory your aiin, but justice your pretence, Behold in Ætna's emblematic fires The mischiefs your ambitious pride inspires!
Fast by the stream, that bounds your just domain, And tells you where ye have a right to reign, A nation dwells, 1100 envious of your throne, Studious of peace, their neighbours', and their own. Ill-fated race! how deeply must they rue Their only crime, vicinity to you! The trumpet sounds, your legions swarm abroad, Through thc ripe harvest lies their destined roadi; At every step beneath their feet they tread The life of multitudes, a nation's bread!