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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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Mean while the Noise and Tumult of the Main
Neptune perceives: the Bottom of the Deep
Turn'd upwards, and the Storm's licentious Rage.
Highly provok'd, and careful for his Realms,
Above the Waves, serene, he rears his Head:
He sees the Trojan Fleet o'er all the Sea
Dispers'd: Æneas, and his Ships o'erpow'r'd
With Surges, and the Ruin of the Sky.
East and West Winds he hails: and then proceeds:—
From your high Birth does this Presumption rise?
And dare You thus, without my Sov'reign Leave,
Mix Earth, and Heav'n, and such vast Billows raise?
Whom I:—But first 'tis fit we should compose
The troubled Ocean. For your next Offence
A more severe Correction you shall find.
Hence, fly: and bear this Message to your King:
To Me, not Him, the Empire of the Main,
And aweful Trident fell: Huge rocky Caves
Are his Dominions: Eurus, your Abodes:
Proud in that Palace Æolus may reign,
But bid him bar the Prison of his Winds.—
Neptune perceives: the Bottom of the Deep
Turn'd upwards, and the Storm's licentious Rage.
Highly provok'd, and careful for his Realms,
Above the Waves, serene, he rears his Head:
He sees the Trojan Fleet o'er all the Sea
Dispers'd: Æneas, and his Ships o'erpow'r'd
With Surges, and the Ruin of the Sky.
East and West Winds he hails: and then proceeds:—
From your high Birth does this Presumption rise?
And dare You thus, without my Sov'reign Leave,
Mix Earth, and Heav'n, and such vast Billows raise?
Whom I:—But first 'tis fit we should compose
The troubled Ocean. For your next Offence
A more severe Correction you shall find.
Hence, fly: and bear this Message to your King:
To Me, not Him, the Empire of the Main,
And aweful Trident fell: Huge rocky Caves
Are his Dominions: Eurus, your Abodes:
Proud in that Palace Æolus may reign,
But bid him bar the Prison of his Winds.—
So spoke the God: and sooner than he spoke,
Appeas'd the tossing of the Waves, dispell'd
The Clouds collected, and restor'd the Sun.
Cymothoê too, and Triton join their Strength
To clear the Vessels from the pointed Rock:
Himself his Trident plies, to heave them off,
Levels the Banks of Sand, and calms the Sea,
And with light Wheels o'er the smooth Surface rides.—
Appeas'd the tossing of the Waves, dispell'd
The Clouds collected, and restor'd the Sun.
Cymothoê too, and Triton join their Strength
To clear the Vessels from the pointed Rock:
Himself his Trident plies, to heave them off,
Levels the Banks of Sand, and calms the Sea,
And with light Wheels o'er the smooth Surface rides.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |