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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Tomb.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Tomb.
See Funeral. Manes.
But good Æneas rear'd a stately Tomb,
The Hero's Arms, his Oar, and Trumpet fix'd,
Beneath a lofty Mountain: which from him
Is now Misenus call'd, and keeps it's Name
To everlasting Ages.—
The Hero's Arms, his Oar, and Trumpet fix'd,
Beneath a lofty Mountain: which from him
Is now Misenus call'd, and keeps it's Name
To everlasting Ages.—
There the vain Youth, who made the World his Prize,
The prosp'rous Robber, Alexander lies.
When pitying Death, at length, had freed Mankind,
To sacred Rest his Bones were here consign'd:
His Bones, that better had been toss'd and hurl'd,
With just Contempt, around the injur'd World.
Oh! should auspicious Years roll round again,
And Godlike Liberty resume her Reign,
Preserv'd to scorn, the Reliques would be shewn
Of the bold Chief, whose boundless Pride alone
This curst Example to Ambition gave,
How many Realms one Mortal can enslave!—
The prosp'rous Robber, Alexander lies.
When pitying Death, at length, had freed Mankind,
To sacred Rest his Bones were here consign'd:
His Bones, that better had been toss'd and hurl'd,
With just Contempt, around the injur'd World.
Oh! should auspicious Years roll round again,
And Godlike Liberty resume her Reign,
Preserv'd to scorn, the Reliques would be shewn
Of the bold Chief, whose boundless Pride alone
This curst Example to Ambition gave,
How many Realms one Mortal can enslave!—
But know, proud Conqueror! thy Wrath, in vain,
Strews with unbury'd Carcasses the Plain.
What is it to thy Malice, if they burn,
Rot in the Field, or moulder in the Urn?
The Forms of Matter all, dissolving, die,
And lost in Nature's blending Bosom lie.
Tho' now thy Cruelty denies a Grave,
These and the World one common Lot shall have:
One last appointed Flame, by Fate's Decree,
Shall waste yon azure Heav'ns, this Earth, and Sea:
Shall knead the Dead up in one mingled Mass,
Where Stars and They shall undistinguish'd pass.
And tho' Thou scorn them now, yet Cæsar! know,
High as thy own can soar, these Souls shall go:
Or find, perhaps, a better Place below.
Death is beyond thy Goddess Fortune's Pow'r,
And Parent Earth receives what-e'er she bore.
Nor will we mourn the Fate of those who lie
Beneath the glorious Cov'ring of the Sky:
That starry Arch for ever round 'em turns,
A nobler Shelter far than Tombs or Urns.—
Strews with unbury'd Carcasses the Plain.
What is it to thy Malice, if they burn,
Rot in the Field, or moulder in the Urn?
The Forms of Matter all, dissolving, die,
And lost in Nature's blending Bosom lie.
445
These and the World one common Lot shall have:
One last appointed Flame, by Fate's Decree,
Shall waste yon azure Heav'ns, this Earth, and Sea:
Shall knead the Dead up in one mingled Mass,
Where Stars and They shall undistinguish'd pass.
And tho' Thou scorn them now, yet Cæsar! know,
High as thy own can soar, these Souls shall go:
Or find, perhaps, a better Place below.
Death is beyond thy Goddess Fortune's Pow'r,
And Parent Earth receives what-e'er she bore.
Nor will we mourn the Fate of those who lie
Beneath the glorious Cov'ring of the Sky:
That starry Arch for ever round 'em turns,
A nobler Shelter far than Tombs or Urns.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |