4. Subrubet illa pudore, et contrahit altera frontem, Me torquet mea mens confcia, pfallo, tremo; Atque Cupidineâ dixit Dea cincta coronâ, Heu! fallendi artem quam didicere parum. WHEN the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought with an indignant mien, Counsel of her country's gods, 2. Sage beneath a spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief, Ev'ry burning word he spoke, Full of rage and full of grief. Princefs! 3. Princefs! if our aged eyes Weep upon thy matchless wrongs,pili mo k Tis because refentment ties 1 All the terrors of our tongues. wu. He H 43 Rome shall perish-write that word In the blood that she has spilt ; Perish hopeless and abhorr'd, Deep in ruin as in guilt. 3. Rome for empire far renown'd, Tramples on a thousand states, Soon her pride shall kifs the ground→→→ .6. Other Romans shall arife, Heedlefs of a foldier's name, Sounds, not arms, fhall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame. 7. Then the progeny that springs From the forefts of our land, Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command. 8. Regions Cæfar never knew, Thy pofterity shall sway, Where his eagles never flew, None invincible as they. 9. Such the bards prophetic words, Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending as he swept the chords Of his sweet but awful lyre. 10. She with all a monarch's pride, Ruffians, II. Ruffians, pittilefs as proud, Heav'n awards the vengeance due, Empire is on us bestow'd, Shame and ruin wait for you. HEROI S M. THERE was a time when Ætna's filent fire Slept unperceiv'd, the mountain yet entire, When on a day, like that of the last doom, She teem'd and heav'd with an infernal birth, And hang their horrors in the neighb'ring fkies, It marches o'er the proftrate works of man, Revolving seasons, fruitless as they pass, See it an uninform'd and idle mafs, Without a foil t'invite the tiller's care, Or blade that might redeem it from despair. Yet time at length (what will not time atchieve?) Cloaths it with earth, and bids the produce live, Once |