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 I. 
BOOK I.
 II. 
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BOOK I.

Argument.

Alecto, in a general Assembly of the Furies, upbraids them with the Happiness the World enjoy'd under the excellent Administration of the Emperor Theodosius, and urges them to unite their Powers to throw all Things into Confusion. Megæra seconds the Motion, and, as the most effectual Means, proposes to introduce Rufinus into the Prince's Court. Her Advice is approv'd, and she proceeds to put it in Execution. His Avarice and Ambition strongly describ'd, and his Cruelty and Perfidiousness. Stilicho at last prepares to put a Stop to his Depredations. The two Characters finely oppos'd. Megæra insulting Justice upon Rufinus's Success and Conduct, the Goddess rebukes her Insolence, foretells Rufinus's sudden Fall, and the happy Consequences of it.

Oft has an anxious Doubt my Mind possest,
And fill'd with Tumult my debating Breast,
Whether the Gods direct the World below,
Or all Things by uncertain Fortune flow;

156

For when I did the Course of Nature weigh,
The Bounds prescrib'd to the tempestuous Sea,
The Changes of the Year, of Night and Day;
Some Pow'r, I thought, administer'd the Whole,
Who bade the Stars by Laws appointed roll;
In sev'ral Seasons sev'ral Fruits arise;
With borrow'd Beams the Moon to chear the Skies,
While his own Light the radiant Sun supplies;
Who to the Waters set the Shore unpass'd,
And in mid Air the balanc'd Earth has plac'd.
But when I saw th'Affairs of Human-Kind
In Clouds involv'd, impervious to the Mind,
The Wicked flourishing, from Trouble free,
The Righteous vex'd with long Adversity,
Then Piety, again supplanted, fail'd,
And that wild Thought, unwillingly, prevail'd,
That, blindly moving, and without Design,
The Seeds of Things, help'd by no Pow'r Divine,
Roll'd thro' the Void, and, all at random hurl'd,
Assum'd new Figures, and compos'd the World;
While or no Gods there are, or none who know
How Things proceed, and interpose below.
At length Rufinus' Punishment dispell'd
The impious Thoughts, that in my Bosom swell'd;
And justify'd the Gods: I now complain
No more, that wicked Men triumphant reign:

157

Rais'd up on high, they gain a guilty Crown,
To fall with more impetuous Ruin down.
Ye Sacred Muses, to your Bard disclose
Whence that dire Ill, and furious Pest arose.
Repining Malice fir'd Alecto's Breast,
To see the World in Peace securely blest;
In dreadful Senate strait she summons all
Her griesly Sisters to th'Infernal Hall.
The Plagues of Erebus unnumber'd come,
Which sullen Night bore from her hideous Womb:
Discord, the Nurse of War, fierce Famine's Rage,
And Death's decrepit Brother, sinking Age;
Sickness impatient of itself, and Spite,
And Grief with Garments rent, and sadden'd Sight;
Fear, and blind Rashness, Luxury, the Bane
Of Wealth, and Want still foll'wing in her Train;
With a long Race of ever-waking Cares,
Which sordid Av'rice in her Bosom bears.
On Iron Seats the grim Assembly plac'd,
Croud the dark Council from th'Infernal Waste.
Full in the midst the fierce Alecto stands,
And a deep Silence awfully commands;
Her hissing Snakes, in various Volumes twin'd,
From her fell Face the Fury cast behind,
And gave them to her Back; then from her Heart,
In wrathful Words she spoke her inward Smart.
And shall we thus permit, in lasting Rest,
Unnumber'd Nations to continue blest?

158

Has Clemency our native Rage destroy'd?
And do's our inborn Cruelty subside?
What now avail the sounding Whips we bear,
The blazing Brands, that terribly we rear?
Our listless Crew, from Heav'n the Thund'rer drives;
On Earth Theodosius of all Pow'r deprives:
Behold again a Golden Age is born!
Behold again the antient Race return!
Concord and Virtue move with equal Pace,
And Piety and Truth erect their Face,
And proudly triumph o'er our vanquish'd Race.
See! swift descending from her native Skies,
Justice insults me with disdainful Eyes,
Invet'rate Vice from her deep Root she draws,
And from their Fetters frees th'encumber'd Laws.
Shall We for Ages thus, in Sloth Supine,
Cast from all Realms, disgracefully decline?
Assert yourselves, your wonted Pow'r assume,
And let your Deeds the Furies Race become.
Illustrious Acts of Horror now decree,
Worthy this awful Synod, worthy me.
I burn with Rage, against the Stars to play
Our Stygian Clouds, and mar the heav'nly Day;
To break the Bounds of the tempestuous Main,
To roll the Rivers o'er the ruin'd Plain;
And Nature's Course subvert. With Rage she speaks,
And opens all the Hissings of her Snakes,
And from her flaky Hair a livid Poyson shakes.

159

A dubious Motion in the Croud appears;
Part for a War against the Gods declares,
Part urge their Sov'reign's Right: Debates arise,
And wild Dissention multiplies their Cries.
Thus when a Storm the troubled Deep has stirr'd,
And spent its Force, a murm'ring Sound is heard;
And on the working Waves remain behind
The hoarse Convulsions of the sinking Wind.
Then from her Seat, accurs'd Megæra rose,
From whom mad Tumult and Confusion flows,
Daring Impiety, and pining Gloom,
And wasteful Ire, that churns the rising Foam.
No Blood she tastes, but what a Father's Hand,
Or Brother's sheds, in Kindred Murder stain'd:
'Twas she with Frenzy struck Alcides' Breast,
Defil'd the Bow that gave the Nations Rest;
She guided Athamas's cruel Dart,
Of his own Son to pierce the guiltless Heart;
In Agamemnon's Palace pleas'd her Spite,
And in th'alternate Slaughters took Delight;
She lighted up the horrid Torch, that led
Dire OEdipus to seek his Mother's Bed;
'Twas she, Thyestes to his Daughter join'd:
With a fierce Tone she utters thus her Mind;
Against the Gods our Ensigns to display,
Nor Right nor Pow'r we have; a surer Way
To vex the World, and human Bliss confound,
That's your Choice, I can with Ease propound;

160

A Monster I can boast, by far more fell
Than all the Hydra's that with Venom swell;
Than pregnant Tigers more to Rage inclin'd,
More false than Calms, and wilder than the Wind,
Rufinus; whom to vital Air disclos'd,
I first receiv'd, and on my Lap repos'd:
Around my Neck the new-born Infant prest
His clinging Arms, and crying sought the Breast.
Their Kindred Plague my curling Serpents knew,
And lick'd his Face, and form'd him as he grew.
I taught him Craft, and each destructive Art,
To hide his Passions, and disguise his Heart;
With a false Smile, and smooth-dissembled Meen,
To cover o'er the Frauds that lye within.
Barbarian Cruelty, and Lust of Gain
Possess his Soul, and in his Bosom reign.
Not all the Treasures in the Tagus roll'd,
Nor red Pactolus' Waves, that shine with Gold,
Nor Riches found in Hermus' noble Stream,
His boundless Appetite suffice to tame.
Greatly inform'd the heedless Mind to snare,
And antient Friends with mutual Malice tear:
Had the first Age of Men his Equal found,
The faithful Theseus had Perithous shun'd;
From Pylades, Orestes wou'd have fled,
And Pollux curs'd his sacred Brother's Head.
The prompt Disciple has improv'd so well,
I own, his Tutor he do's far excell;

161

To summ the whole; his single Breast contains
Whatever Ill in all the Furies reigns.
Him, if you think it will effect our End,
I'll to the Prince's Royal Palace send;
Tho' wise as Numa or as Minos, still
My Foster-Son shall bend him to his Will.
Loud Shouts attend her Speech; the ghastly Crew
Approve the Thought, and with Applause pursue.
When she with Diamond Knots her Hair had bound,
And with a Snake her Vesture gather'd round,
She sought re-sounding Phlegethon, and stood
Upon the Borders of the burning Flood;
There in the pitchy Waves, with hasty Hand,
Plung'd a huge Pine, and fires the hissing Brand;
Involv'd with Darkness then her Wings she spread,
Along the Regions of the slothful Dead.
A Place there lies on Gallia's utmost Shore,
Where rising Billows rage, and vainly roar;
With Steams of Blood, where sage Ulysses drew
The hov'ring Ghosts, and fed their hungry Crew;
Whence sad Complaints and lamentable Cries
Of gliding Spirits oft are heard to rise;
And oft the Swains behold, with dire Affright,
Pale Phantoms stalk, and Spectres of the Night.
From hence the Fury, with a griesly Meen,
Baleful sprung forth, and blasts the Light serene;
With deadly Screams she breaks th'infected Air;
Britannia felt the Clangor from afar;

162

At the shrill Yell, the Gallic Meadows quake,
The Towns re-echo, and the Cities shake;
The Tide rolls backward, and suspends the Sea;
And in his Urn, the Rhine retreated lay.
Her Serpents change themselves to hoary Hairs,
An old Man's Form the crafty Demon bears,
And on her famish'd Face deep Wrinkles wears.
She feigns a feeble Pace, and stagg'ring go's,
And seeks Elusa, and the destin'd House;
O'erjoy'd she stood a while, to view the Man,
With livid Eyes, and thus at length began.
Shall shameful Sloth, Rufinus, thus consume
The glorious Promise of thy youthful Bloom?
Obscurely ling'ring in thy private Home.
Alas! thou know'st not what the Fates declare
In thy behalf, nor what thy Stars prepare.
To what I counsel, if thou wilt incline,
The whole Dominion of the World is thine:
Scorn not my Age, nor hastily despise
My Limbs decrepit, and my sinking Eyes;
All Magic Arts are mine; my prudent Breast
With the sure Gift of Præscience is possest:
I know the Songs of the Thessalian Train,
Which from the Skies the shining Moon constrain:
The Spells of Ægypt, the Chaldæan Skill,
By which the Gods are subject to their Will:
The deadly Juice of no pernicious Tree,
Or baneful Simple, is conceal'd from Me.

163

What poys'nous Herbs on Caucasus arise,
And Scythian Rocks, to help the Witches Cries,
I understand; and ev'ry Plant that grows;
What dire Medea cull'd, and Circe chose.
The horrid Manes often, on the Lawn
To nightly Rites, with Hecate, I have drawn;
Produc'd the bury'd Dead to Life again;
The Living, tho' the Fates forbade, have slain,
And call'd deep-rooted Oaks across the Plain;
The rushing Thunder stay'd, and Rivers led,
With refluent Motion, to their Fountain's Head.
And, lest my Words shou'd be delusive thought,
Look round, and see what Changes I have wrought.
She said; at once the snowy Pillars turn
Of a bright Colour, and with Riches burn;
Refulgent Plates the glitt'ring Beams infold,
And all the Chamber glows with dazzling Gold.
The Charm succeeds: With fond deluded Eyes,
He views the Treasure, and affects the Prize.
So the vain King at first with Pride was swell'd,
As his increasing Treasures he beheld,
But when for Food he saw the Tables shine
With massy Metal, and with solid Wine,
He found the fatal Gift, and curs'd, too late,
His rash Petition, and the barren Plate.
Whoe'er thou art, or God or Man, the Way
Do thou direct, and gladly I obey,

164

Exultingly he cries; and strait addrest,
At her Command, to reach the distant East.
The fear'd Symplegades he pass'd, the Streight
Renown'd of old for Jason's golden Freight;
Where the pleas'd Bosphorus surveys with Pride
Th'Imperial City glitt'ring on its Side,
And with its Stream divides the neighb'ring Bounds
Of Asian Meadows and the Thracian Grounds.
His Travel finish'd, to the crouded Court
Th'instructed Mischief makes his bold Resort:
Led by some Fate malignant, into Place
He creeps, and slides into the Prince's Grace.
From that curs'd Hour, Ambition rais'd her Head,
All Things were sold, and Right, supplanted, fled.
Intrusted Secrets basely he betrays,
Deceives his Clients, and his Skill displays;
Begs Honours of the Prince, and, void of Shame,
Sets them to Sale, and drives a sordid Game.
He doubles ev'ry Crime, and feeds with Art
A small Displeasure, till he fires the Heart;
Starts Jealousies, and sheds his Venom round,
And a slight Hurt he frets into a Wound.
As the large Ocean in its spacious Bed
Feels not the Streams, by which 'tis daily fed;
And tho' it drinks the copious Ister there,
And swallows Nile's Sev'n Disemboguements here,
Still equal and alike, th'insatiate Main
In the same Limits do's itself restrain.

165

No more the Floods of Wealth, from ev'ry Part,
Quench the hot Fever of Rufinus' Heart.
Where precious Chains are seen, or Bracelets shine
With sparkling Gemms, and wrought with Skill Divine,
Or the fair Harvest shews a fruitful Soil,
The hungry Harpy fly's, and fastens on the Spoil.
The fertile Field, and cultivated Plain
Betray their Master, and destroy the Swain.
Houses he seizes, and paternal Lands
From their own Lords rapaciously demands:
All feel his Rage, thro' ev'ry Quarter spread,
He strips the Living, and he heirs the Dead.
In Heaps his Treasures swell; and, pil'd on high,
The Rapines of the World in One Man's Coffers lye!
Forc'd to submit, the plunder'd People groan,
And Public Towns the Private Robber own.
Whither, enormous Monster, wilt thou rage?
What can so vast an Appetite assuage?
Shou'dst thou the Wealth of either Ocean hold,
Shou'd Lydia's River give thee all its Gold;
Didst thou possess the wealthy Crœsus' Throne,
And make the Persian Diadem thy own,
Yet cou'dst thou not be rich; no Glut of Gain
Cou'd fill the Wolf thy Bosom do's contain.
Who covets, still is poor. Fabricius priz'd
His little Lot, and Gifts of Kings despis'd:
The good Serranus exercis'd with Toil
The lab'ring Plough, and turn'd the rugged Soil:

166

A narrow Cottage the brave Curii held,
Who from old Rome the Samnite Arms repell'd.
Such Poverty beyond thy Wealth shall be,
And their Cott nobler, than thy Domes, to Me.
Fastidious Luxury for Thee enquires
Superfluous Feasts, and fatal Food desires;
For Me, the ready Earth do's freely rear
Dainties unbought, and Nourishment sincere.
There, the fine Wool imbibes the Tyrian Dye,
And on the Vests, embroider'd Figures lye;
Here, smiling Flow'rs, and the delightful Field,
With various Scenes, a living Pleasure yield.
The tender Down there swells the lofty Bed;
And here the Grass, that clothes the fragrant Mead,
Do's a soft Couch of chearful Green prepare,
For Sleep unbroken by intruding Care.
Of Salutations the perpetual Noise
Sounds thro' the Palace, and Repose destroys;
While spritely Birds, in Groves, melodious sing;
And, in the Vale, murmurs a trickling Spring.
A small Possession ever is the best,
And fewer Mischiefs such a State infest;
For bounteous Nature ev'ry Man supplies
With Means of Happiness, if Men were wise;
And, were the Blessing rightly understood,
Our Manners wou'd be plain, and undisguis'd our Food
No echoing Trumpets wou'd provoke Alarms,
Nor harden'd Beach be turn'd to missive Arms;

167

By Winds and Waves, no shatter'd Ships wou'd fall,
Nor Engines thunder on the tott'ring Wall.
Rufinus' Thirst of Wealth encreases more
By growing Spoils, and his augmented Store.
No Shame his Craving or Oppression stays;
He Perjuries in soothing Words conveys,
Nor sooner joyns the Hand, than he betrays.
His lawless Claim, if any one denies,
Impetuous Passions in his Bosom rise;
What hunted Lyoness, that feels the Spear,
Robb'd of her sucking Whelps, what Mountain Bear,
What trodden Serpent such Distraction shows,
Or with an equal Indignation glows?
The Majesty ev'n of the Gods he spurns,
By whom he swore; with fell Revenge he burns,
And Rights of Hospitality o'erturns.
The Wife's, the Husband's, and the Children's Blood
Cannot suffice him with their mingled Flood;
'Tis not enough t've slain the next of Kin,
Exil'd the Friends, and sunk th'extinguish'd Line,
Implacably he labours, to the Ground
To raze the Town, the Nation to confound.
A quick Dispatch the cruel Wretch denies,
And a long Train of tedious Death enjoys;
Racks, Dungeons, Chains, ingeniously prepares,
And the wish'd Blow inhumanly defers.
More dreadful than the Sword, such Grace to gain!
Accurs'd Reprieve! to lengthen Life for Pain.

168

Is Death so light? With Crimes his Malice feigns,
Himself the Judge, the Guiltless he arraigns:
In other Things he sleeps, but all his Eyes
Awake to Blood; to distant Lands he flies;
Not ardent Sirius can retard his Haste,
The Thracian Winter, nor the Borean Blast.
Fear gnaws his Heart, lest from th'intended Fate
Some shou'd escape, and disappoint his Hate;
Or lest the Prince's Grace shou'd step between,
And the poor Wretches from his Malice screen.
Not venerable Years can awe his Soul,
Nor Bloom of Youth his Cruelty controul.
Doom'd to the Ax, the Son untimely dies,
Before the hoary Father's weeping Eyes.
His Children slain, the wretched Sire is sent,
(Condemn'd to live,) to distant Banishment.
Who can suffice such Fun'ral Piles to tell?
Or count the slaughter'd Multitudes that fell?
What Deeds have former Ruffians dar'd, like these?
What Robber Sinis, with his bended Trees?
What Phalaris, with his Bull's tormenting Pains?
Or Sylla, with his Dungeons and his Chains?
Compar'd with Thee, Busiris will appear
Gentle; Cinna, nor Spartacus severe.
Dread seizes all; to vent their Griefs deny'd,
Their Sighs they smother, and their Anger hide.

169

But Stilicho's undaunted Heart disdains
The common Fear, and nobly fix'd remains.
Alone against the Monster's deadly Jaws
He lifts the Sword, and the barb'd Arrow draws.
A firm Protection, and a stedfast Tow'r,
A Shield to shelter from th'Invader's Pow'r,
A Refuge for the trembling Exile's Woe,
A Standard rais'd against the common Foe,
All here obtain; this was the only Mound,
To save the Guiltless, and th'Oppressor bound:
Thus far he rag'd, and threatned with Affright;
But here he paus'd, and cast about for Flight.
Not otherwise, when, swell'd with wintry Rains,
A copious Torrent gushes on the Plains,
Drives the huge Stones and tusted Woods away,
And bursts the Bridges with a furious Sway,
It strikes against a Rock; the roaring Tide
With sparkling Foam lies broken at its Side.
What Praise to Thee, brave Heroe, shall we give?
Who on thy Shoulders didst the World receive,
And bear the Burden of the shaken Ball,
When the frail Globe was sinking to the Fall.
The gracious Gods foreshew'd thee from afar,
To bless our Sight; as some propitious Star,
After long Tossing on the stormy Sea,
Guides the vex'd Vessel to the welcome Bay.

170

Perseus, they say, the Water-Dragon fought,
But his fleet Wings a sure Advantage brought;
No Pinions gave Thee Safety. In his Shield
Perseus the Head of grizly Gorgon held;
But Thou for thy Defence didst never bear
The hissing Terrors of Medusa's Hair.
Him a mean Passion for a Captive Maid
Led to the Fight, to lend a Virgin Aid;
Thou, for the Safety of Imperial Rome,
And the World's Welfare, didst thy Arms assume.
Thy worthy Deeds all antient Fame outshine;
Alcides' Labours must submit to Thine:
One Wood the Lyon of Cleonæ fed;
Th'Arcadian Boar one Forest fill'd with Dread;
Antæus, who from Earth new Vigour took,
With all his Murders only Libya shook;
Crete only echo'd with the bellowing Bull;
And Hydra haunted the Lernæan Pool:
At this affrightful Monster not alone
A narrow Pool, and single Island groan;
But all the Realms, that Rome's Dominion own,
From the first Borders of th'Iberian Shore,
To distant Ganges, trembled at his Roar.
Not fell Geryon, with his triple Head,
Nor the huge Porter of the passing Dead,
The Force of Hydra, and the dreaded Name
Of hungry Scylla, and Chimera's Flame,
Can equal Horror with this Fury claim.

171

Of Manners most oppos'd, the Combat long
On either side with dubious Issue hung;
That to the Throat the pointed Dagger bends;
This wards the Mischief, and the Blow suspends;
That spoils the Wealthy, This supplies the Poor;
That ruins, This the ruin'd do's restore;
That kindles Wars, and seeks the lawless Fight,
This wins the Conquest, and asserts the Right.
As from th'infected Air some dire Disease
Do's first on Herds of grazing Cattle seize;
Then takes the People, and the Towns invades,
Till thro' the Land the fierce Contagion spreads;
So the rapacious Robber, not content
With a mean Prey from single Persons rent,
Aspires to ravage Kingdoms, and divide
A Royal Booty, and, her Troops destroy'd,
To crush the Roman Name, with boundless Pride.
He sets the Stranger Nations all in Arms,
And the bleak Scythians to his Aid alarms;
Inhumanly betrays to Foreign Pow'r
The poor Remains of Rome, that 'scap'd his Rage before.
Sarmatians, Dacians, and the brutal Brood
Of Massagetes, who quaff their Horses Blood,
And cold Alani by Meotis' Flood,
Swarm to the Fields; but, by Rufinus' Wile,
Who frames Delays, the Moments to beguile,
Are sav'd from Conquest, and preserv'd from Spoil.

172

For when, t'avenge his Fellow Leader's Fate,
Intrepid Stilicho, with gen'rous Hate,
Ingag'd, and put the Getan Host to Flight,
And crush'd the bravest of their Troops in Fight,
While a small Part remain'd, an easy Prey,
This impious Traytor slipp'd the lucky Day,
And made the Prince, deceiv'd, the present Charge delay;
To give the Huns, who well he knew were near,
Time to come up, and joyn the fainting War.
A Race there is in Scythia's farthest Coast,
Than whom the North, none more abhorr'd can boast;
Foul is their Habit, and their Looks obscene,
Untir'd with Toil, and rugged as their Meen;
They live on Prey, nor Arts of Tillage know;
And take Delight, t'adorn with Scars their Brow.
With no less Skill they rule the stubborn Steed,
Than did the Centaurs of Ixion's Seed,
Whom Nature's Hand had fram'd of double Kind,
A Man and Horse, in one mixt Form combin'd.
When press'd, in Troops they scour away from Sight;
But turning swiftly, they renew the Fight.
Yet fearless Thou, against this horrid Foe,
Where noisy Heber's foamy Waters flow,
Didst bend thy March; and ere the Trumpets sound,
Invoke the glorious God, for Arms renown'd.
Dread Mars, whether thou dwell'st on Hæmus' Brow,
Or Rhodopé, for ever white with Snow;

173

Or sit'st conceal'd on Athos' lofty Height,
(Thro' which the rowing Medes pursu'd their Flight,)
Or on Pangæus, brown with leavy Shade;
Lead on with Me, and give thy Thracians Aid:
If smiling Glory crowns this happy Day,
An Oaken Trophy shall thy Fame display.
Mars heard, and from bleak Hæmus' snowy Crown,
Rouzing his Train, march'd instantaneous down;
Bellona, bring my Helmet; and thou, Fear,
Harness my Steeds; Terror, be Charioteer.
Ply all your Hands, for with a Rival Might
My Stilicho advances to the Fight;
Who frequent honours me with hostile Spoils,
And gratefully rewards my Social Toils;
One Clarion kindles Both to Martial Rage,
And with united Chariots we engage.
He said, and rush'd into the Field; now here
This drives the Squadrons, and That scatters there;
Their Shields and Form alike; their Helmets blaze
With flashing Flames, and shine with equal Rays;
Chaf'd in the Chace, the burnish'd Breast-plate glows;
Their thirsty Spears deal Death among the Foes.
Pleas'd with the View of multiplying Ill,
Megæra smil'd at her accomplish'd Will;
And finding Justice mournful and alone,
Insults her thus, and haughtily begun;
See, to thy Wish, Peace now revive amain,
And the first Golden Age flourish again;

174

My Pow'r is crush'd; my Empire overthrown;
No Nation now the Furies Pow'r will own.
Turn here thy Eyes; the Sight thy Transport claims;
What Walls lye smoaking in Barbarian Flames?
What Carnage my Rufinus' Hand has spread?
What Streams of Blood, without Reluctance, shed,
To glut the hungry Serpents of my Head?
Abandon Men, and from my Lot retire,
And to the Stars, with speedy Flight, aspire;
Fly to th'Autumnal Quarters, where there lies
Void Space sufficient in the Southern Skys,
Near the hot Lyon's Sign, and Libra's Scale;
For here thy Presence will no more avail.
And, wou'd the Fates to Me Permission yield,
I'd hunt thee still thro' Heav'ns extended Field.
The Goddess answer'd; Here thy Triumphs end;
Thy frantic Rage no farther shall extend;
Thy boasted Slave his Pains shall quickly bear,
For now, ev'n now, the vow'd Avenger's near;
And he who dares both Heav'n and Earth to brave,
To hide his impious Corse, shall want a Grave.
Honorius, promis'd to this joyful Age,
Shall soon arrive, and calm the present Rage;
Not less in Valour and applauded Fame
Than his great Sire, and shining Brother's Name:
Who quells the Medes and Indians with his Spear:
Kings shall obey, and frozen Phasis bear
His Horses Hoofs, advancing to the War.

175

Araxes with a Bridge shall be constrain'd,
And thou, in Bands of stubborn Fetters chain'd,
Shorne of thy Snakes, and from the Day expell'd,
Shalt be in Hell's profoundest Dungeon held.
Earth shall be common then; no Marks shall bound
The Field distinguish'd, and divide the Ground;
Nor shall the sharpen'd Share fatigue the Swain;
But sudden Harvests shall rejoyce the Plain,
And sweating Oaks the fragrant Honey rain.
Wine then and Oyl shall flow in ev'ry Part;
No Fleece shall wear its curious Dye by Art,
But the pleas'd Shepherd, wond'ring at the Sight,
Shall see his Flock in Native Colours bright;
And, glitt'ring in the branching Weeds below,
With Orient Gemms shall ev'ry Ocean glow.
 

Midas.

Stilicho.