Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
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Firmness.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
359
Firmness.
See Fortitude.
—Infatuate they demand
The impious War, and obstinately crowd,
With Tumult, round the King Latinus' Court.
He like a Rock amidst the Sea, unmov'd,
Stands opposite, resisting: like a Rock
Amidst the Sea; which, while the roaring Tide
Encroaches, with it's Weight Itself sustains
Among the noisy Waves: in vain the Cliffs
Foaming rebellow loud: and all around
The broken Sea-Weed dashes on it's Sides.—
The impious War, and obstinately crowd,
With Tumult, round the King Latinus' Court.
He like a Rock amidst the Sea, unmov'd,
Stands opposite, resisting: like a Rock
Amidst the Sea; which, while the roaring Tide
Encroaches, with it's Weight Itself sustains
Among the noisy Waves: in vain the Cliffs
Foaming rebellow loud: and all around
The broken Sea-Weed dashes on it's Sides.—
He by no Tears is mov'd: untractable,
And deaf to all Intreaties: Fate forbids:
And Jove, o'er-ruling, stops his pitying Ears.
As when rough Alpine Winds, with struggling Gusts,
This way, and that, contend t' o'er-turn an Oak
Stubborn with aged Timber: roaring loud
The Branches bend: the stiff Trunk bows: the Leaves
Thick falling strew the Ground: Itself fast clings,
Fix'd in the Rocks: and high as it uprears
It's tow'ring Head in Air, so deep it's Root
Shoots downwards to the Center. With such Force,
And ceaseless Noise, the Hero on all Sides
Is batter'd: and within his manly Breast
Confines the Pain he feels: his Mind persists
Unmov'd: and Tears roll down his Cheeks in vain.—
And deaf to all Intreaties: Fate forbids:
And Jove, o'er-ruling, stops his pitying Ears.
As when rough Alpine Winds, with struggling Gusts,
This way, and that, contend t' o'er-turn an Oak
Stubborn with aged Timber: roaring loud
The Branches bend: the stiff Trunk bows: the Leaves
Thick falling strew the Ground: Itself fast clings,
Fix'd in the Rocks: and high as it uprears
It's tow'ring Head in Air, so deep it's Root
Shoots downwards to the Center. With such Force,
And ceaseless Noise, the Hero on all Sides
Is batter'd: and within his manly Breast
Confines the Pain he feels: his Mind persists
Unmov'd: and Tears roll down his Cheeks in vain.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |