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Princess ! if our aged eyes
Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues.
Rome shall perish-write that word
In the blood that she has spilt ; Perish, hopeless and abhorred,
Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Rome, for empire far renowned,
Tramples on a thousand states; Soon her pride shall kiss the ground
Hark! the Gaul is at her gates !
Other Romans shall arise,
Heedless of a soldier's name; Sounds, not arms shall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame.
From the forests of our land,
Shall a wider world command.
Regions Cæsar never knew
Thy posterity shall sway ; Where his eagles never flew,
None invincible as they.
Such the bard's prophetic words,
Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending as he swept the chords Of his sweet but awful lyre.
x. She, with all a monarch's pride,
Felt them in her bosom glow: Rushed to battle, fought, and died; Dying hurled them at the foe.
XI. Ruffians, pitiless as proud,
Heaven awards the vengeance due; Empire is on us bestowed,
Shame and ruin wait for you.
Subjoined to the Yearly Bill of Mortality of the
Anno Domini 1787.
Pallida Mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas, Regumque turres.
The Nen's barge-laden wave,
Have found their home, the grave.
Than in foregoing years?
That so much death appears?
Nor plague nor famine came;
And never waves his claim.
And some are marked to fall;
The axe will smite at God's command,
And soon shall smite us all.
With its new foliage on,
I passed—and they were gone.
With which I charge my page;
And at the root of age.
For yet an hour to come;
Can always baulk the tomb.
And scorned as is my strain,
I may not teach in vain.
And ere he quits the pen,
And answer all-Amen!
ON A SIMILAR OCCASION,
FOR THE YEAR 1788.
Quod adest, memento
Improve the present hour, for all beside
Could I, from heaven inspired, as sure presage