Princefs! if our aged eyes III. Weep upon thy matchlefs wrongs, 'Tis because refentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. IV. Rome fhall perish-write that word Perish hopeless and abhorr'd, Deep in ruin as in guilt. V. Rome for empire far renown'd Tramples on a thousand states, Soon her pride fhall kifs the ground Hark! the Gaul is at her gates. Other Romans fhall arife, VI. Heedlefs of a foldier's name, Sounds, not arms, fhall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame. VII. Then the progeny that springs From the forefts of our land, Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command. VIII. Regions Cæfar never knew, Thy pofterity fhall fway, Where his eagles never flew, None invincible as they. IX. Such the bards prophetic words, Pregnant with celeftial fire, Bending as he fwept the chords Of his fweet but awful lyre. X. She, with all a monarch's pride, Felt them in her bofom glow, Rufh'd to battle, fought and died, Dying, hurl'd them at the foe. Ruffians, XI. Ruffians, pitylefs as proud, Heav'n awards the vengeance due Empire is on us bestow'd, Shame and ruin wait for you. HEROIS M. THERE was a time when Ætna's filent fire In peace upon her floping fides matur'd. 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, See it an uninform'd and idle mass, 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 ?) Once Once more the fpiry myrtle crowns the glade, Oh charming paradife of fhort-liv'd fweets! The self-fame gale that wafts the fragrance round, Again the mountain feels th' imprifon'd foe, Ten thousand fwains the wafted fcene deplore, Ye monarchs, whom the lure of honour draws, Behold in Ætna's emblematic fires The mischiefs your ambitious pride infpires. Fast by the stream that bounds your just domain, have a right to reign, And tells you where ye A a 4 A nation |