Ovid's metamorphoses in fifteen books :: :: University of Virginia Library

But Æsculapius was a foreign Power:
In his own City Cæsar we adore:
Him Arms and Arts alike renown'd beheld,
In Peace conspicuous, dreadful in the Field;

543

His rapid Conquests, and swift-finish'd Wars,
The Hero justly fix'd among the Stars;
Yet is his Progeny his greatest Fame:
The Son immortal makes the Father's Name.
The Sea-girt Britons, by his Courage tam'd,
For their high rocky Cliffs, and Fierceness fam'd;
His dreadful Navies, which victorious rode
O'er Nile's affrighted Waves and seven-sourced Flood;
Numidia, and the spacious Realms regain'd,
Where Cyniphis or flows, or Juba reign'd;
The Powers of titled Mithridates broke,
And Pontus added to the Roman Yoke;
Triumphal Shows decreed, for Conquests won,
For Conquests, which the Triumphs still out-shone;
These are great Deeds; yet less, than to have giv'n
The World a Lord, in whom, propitious Heav'n,
When you decreed the Sovereign Rule to place,
You blest with lavish Bounty human Race.

Now lest so great a Prince might seem to rise
Of mortal Stem, his Sire must reach the Skies;
The beauteous Goddess, that Æneas bore;
Foresaw it, and foreseeing did deplore;
For well she knew, her Hero's Fate was nigh,
Devoted by conspiring Arms to die.
Trembling and pale, to every God, she cry'd,
Behold, what deep and subtle Arts are try'd,
To end the last, the only Branch that springs
From my Iülus, and the Dardan Kings!
How bent they are! how desperate to destroy
All that is left me of unhappy Troy!
Am I alone by Fate ordain'd to know
Uninterrupted Care, and endless Woe?

544

Now from Tydides' Spear I feel the Wound:
Now Ilium's Towers the hostile Flames surround:
Troy laid in Dust, my exil'd Son I mourn,
Thro' angry Seas, and raging Billows born;
O'er the wide Deep his wandring Course he bends;
Now to the sullen Shades of Styx descends,
With Turnus driv'n at last fierce Wars to wage,
Or rather with unpitying Juno's Rage.
But why record I now my antient Woes?
Sense of past Ills in present Fears I lose;
On me their Points the impious Daggers throw;
Forbid it, Gods, repel the direful Blow:
If by curs'd Weapons Numa's Priest expires,
No longer shall ye burn, ye vestal Fires.

While such Complainings Cypria's Grief disclose;
In each celestial Breast Compassion rose:
Not Gods can alter Fate's resistless Will;
Yet they foretold by Signs th'approaching Ill.
Dreadful were heard, among the Clouds, Alarms
Of ecchoing Trumpets, and of clashing Arms;
The Sun's pale Image gave so faint a Light,
That the sad Earth was almost veil'd in Night;
The Æther's Face with fiery Meteors glow'd;
With Storms of Hail were mingled Drops of Blood;
A dusky Hue the Morning Star o'erspread,
And the Moon's Orb was stain'd with Spots of Red;
In every place portentous Shrieks were heard,
The fatal Warnings of th'infernal Bird;
In every Place the Marble melts to Tears;
While in the Groves, rever'd thro' length of Years,
Boding and awful Sounds the Ear invade;
And solemn Music warbles thro' the Shade;

545

No Victim can attone the impious Age,
No Sacrifice the wrathful Gods assuage;
Dire Wars and civil Fury threat the State;
And every Omen points out Cæsar's Fate:
Around each hallow'd Shrine, and sacred Dome,
Night-howling Dogs disturb the peaceful Gloom;
Their silent Seats the wandring Shades forsake,
And fearful Tremblings the rock'd City shake.

Yet could not, by these Prodigies, be broke
The plotted Charm, or staid the fatal Stroke;
Their Swords th'Assassins in the Temple draw;
Their murthering Hands nor Gods nor Temples awe;
This sacred Place their bloody Weapons stain,
And Virtue falls before the Altar slain.
'Twas now fair Cypria, with her Woes opprest,
In raging Anguish smote her heav'nly Breast;
Wild with distracting Fears, the Goddess try'd
Her Hero in th'etherial Cloud to hide,
The Cloud, which youthful Paris did conceal,
When Menelaüs urged the threatning Steel;
The Cloud, which once deceiv'd Tydides' Sight,
And sav'd Æneas in th'unequal Fight.

When Jove—In vain, fair Daughter, you assay
To o'er-rule Destiny's unconquer'd Sway:
Your Doubts to banish, enter Fate's Abode;
A Privilege to heav'nly Powers allow'd;
There shall you see the Records grav'd, in length,
On Ir'n and solid Brass, with mighty Strength;
Which Heav'n's and Earth's Concussion shall endure;
Maugre all Shocks, eternal and secure:
There, on perennial Adamant design'd,
The various Fortunes of your Race you'll find:

546

Well I have mark'd 'em, and will now relate
To thee the settled Laws of future Fate.
He, Goddess, for whose Death the Fates you blame,
Has finish'd his determin'd Course with Fame:
To thee 'tis giv'n, at length, that he shall shine
Among the Gods, and grace the worship'd Shrine:
His Son to all his Greatness shall be Heir,
And worthily succeed to Empire's Care:
Our self will lead his Wars, resolv'd to aid
The brave Avenger of his Father's Shade:
To him its Freedom Mutina shall owe,
And Decius his auspicious Conduct know:
His dreadful Powers shall shake Pharsalia's Plain,
And drench in Gore Philippi's Fields again:
A mighty Leader, in Sicilia's Flood,
Great Pompey's warlike Son, shall be subdu'd:
Ægypt's soft Queen, adorn'd with fatal Charms,
Shall mourn her Soldier's unsuccessful Arms;
Too late shall find, her swelling Hopes were vain,
And know, that Rome o'er Memphis still must reign:
What name I Afric or Nile's hidden Head?
Far as both Oceans roll, his Power shall spread:
All the known Earth to him shall Homage pay,
And the Seas own his universal Sway:
When cruel War no more disturbs Mankind;
To civil Studies shall he bend his Mind,
With equal Justice guardian Laws ordain,
And by his great Example Vice restrain:
Where will his Bounty or his Goodness end?
To Times unborn his gen'rous Views extend;
The Virtues of his Heir our Praise engage,
And promise Blessings to the coming Age:

547

Late shall he in his Kindred Orbs be placed,
With Pylian Years and crowded Honours graced.
Mean time, your Hero's fleeting Spirit bear,
Fresh from his Wounds, and change it to a Star:
So shall great Julius Rites divine assume,
And from the Skies eternal smile on Rome.

This spoke; the Goddess to the Senate flew;
Where, her fair Form conceal'd from mortal View,
Her Cæsar's heav'nly Part she made her Care,
Nor left the recent Soul to waste to Air;
But bore it upwards to its native Skies:
Glowing with new-born Fires she saw it rise;
Forth springing from her Bosom up it flew,
And kindling, as it soar'd, a Comet grew;
Above the Lunar Sphere it took its Flight,
And shot behind it a long Trail of Light.