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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Atheist.
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Atheist.
See Divine Vengeance.
—All hear
With Admiration, and admiring fear
The Pow'rs of Heav'n; except Ixion's Son,
Who laugh'd at all the Gods, believ'd in none.
Credit the Tale who will, he fierce replies,
These Legends are no more than pious Lies:
You stretch too much the Pow'rs of Heav'n, to say,
That they or give Us Forms, or take away.
The rest, of better Minds, their Sense declar'd
Against this Doctrine, and with Horror heard.—
With Admiration, and admiring fear
The Pow'rs of Heav'n; except Ixion's Son,
Who laugh'd at all the Gods, believ'd in none.
Credit the Tale who will, he fierce replies,
These Legends are no more than pious Lies:
You stretch too much the Pow'rs of Heav'n, to say,
That they or give Us Forms, or take away.
The rest, of better Minds, their Sense declar'd
Against this Doctrine, and with Horror heard.—
Then Lelex rose, an old experienc'd Man,
And thus, with sober Gravity began:
Great are the Gods, unbounded is their Sway,
And what they Will both Heav'n and Earth obey.—
And thus, with sober Gravity began:
Great are the Gods, unbounded is their Sway,
And what they Will both Heav'n and Earth obey.—
The impious
Wretch despis'd the Powers divine,
Nor od'rous Incense burnt at any Shrine:
But with his Ax did Ceres' Grove invade,
And, as 'tis said, hew'd down the venerable Shade.
An ancient Oak there in the Center stood,
The Covert's Glory, and itself a Wood.
Garlands embrac'd it's Trunk, and from the Boughs
Hung Tablets, Monuments of prosp'rous Vows.
It's Height as much the other Trees exceeds,
As they o'ertop the Grass and humble Weeds.
Nor od'rous Incense burnt at any Shrine:
But with his Ax did Ceres' Grove invade,
And, as 'tis said, hew'd down the venerable Shade.
An ancient Oak there in the Center stood,
The Covert's Glory, and itself a Wood.
Garlands embrac'd it's Trunk, and from the Boughs
Hung Tablets, Monuments of prosp'rous Vows.
It's Height as much the other Trees exceeds,
As they o'ertop the Grass and humble Weeds.
But nought it's holy Horrors could avail:
He bad his Slaves the sacred Trunk assail:
And whilst they, lingring, his Commands delay'd,
He snatch'd an Ax, and thus blaspheming said;
Was this no Oak, nor Ceres' fav'rite Care,
But Ceres' self, this Arm, unaw'd, shou'd dare
It's leafy Honours in the Dust to spread,
And level with the Ground it's tow'ring Head.
He spoke: and as he aim'd a slanting Stroke,
Sighs heav'd, and Tremblings shook the frighted Oak;
It's Leaves look'd sickly, pale it's Acorns grew,
And it's long Branches sweat a chilly Dew.
Then when his impious Hands a Wound bestow'd,
Blood from the mangled Bark in Currents flow'd.
He bad his Slaves the sacred Trunk assail:
And whilst they, lingring, his Commands delay'd,
He snatch'd an Ax, and thus blaspheming said;
Was this no Oak, nor Ceres' fav'rite Care,
But Ceres' self, this Arm, unaw'd, shou'd dare
It's leafy Honours in the Dust to spread,
And level with the Ground it's tow'ring Head.
He spoke: and as he aim'd a slanting Stroke,
Sighs heav'd, and Tremblings shook the frighted Oak;
83
And it's long Branches sweat a chilly Dew.
Then when his impious Hands a Wound bestow'd,
Blood from the mangled Bark in Currents flow'd.
The Wonder All amaz'd: but One more bold,
The Fact disswading, strove his Ax to hold.
With Fury him the fierce Thessalian ey'd:
Receive thy Piety's Reward, he cry'd;
And as with Rage a mighty Stroke he sped,
He turn'd it from the Tree, and lop'd his Head.
The Fact disswading, strove his Ax to hold.
With Fury him the fierce Thessalian ey'd:
Receive thy Piety's Reward, he cry'd;
And as with Rage a mighty Stroke he sped,
He turn'd it from the Tree, and lop'd his Head.
Then obstinate in Ill, with num'rous Blows
And straining Ropes, the Oak he overthrows.—
And straining Ropes, the Oak he overthrows.—
Have any Hell to fear, now, even Boys,
Unless in Leading-Strings, do not believe:
But Thou these Truths revere.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |