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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Discord.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Discord.
See War Civil.
The Trumpets sound! when strait fell Discord rais'd
Her Stygian Head, and shook her matted Locks:
With clotted Blood her Face was cover'd o'er,
And gummy Horrors from her Eyes distill'd:
Two Rows of canker'd Teeth deform'd her Mouth,
And from her Tongue a Stream of Poison flow'd,
While hissing Serpents play'd around her Cheeks:
Her livid Skin with Rags was scarce conceal'd,
And in her trembling Hand a Torch she shook.
Her Stygian Head, and shook her matted Locks:
With clotted Blood her Face was cover'd o'er,
And gummy Horrors from her Eyes distill'd:
Two Rows of canker'd Teeth deform'd her Mouth,
And from her Tongue a Stream of Poison flow'd,
While hissing Serpents play'd around her Cheeks:
Her livid Skin with Rags was scarce conceal'd,
And in her trembling Hand a Torch she shook.
Ascending thus from the Tartarean Gloom,
She reach'd the Top of lofty Apennine:
Whence ev'ry Sea and Land she might behold,
And Armies moving over all the Globe:
Then from her furious Bosom thus she spoke.
She reach'd the Top of lofty Apennine:
Whence ev'ry Sea and Land she might behold,
And Armies moving over all the Globe:
Then from her furious Bosom thus she spoke.
Now rush, ye Nations, rush to mutual Arms:
And let Dissention's Torch for ever burn!
Let Flight no longer now the Coward save,
Nor Age, nor Sex, nor Childhood Pity move:
Let the Earth tremble, and her haughtiest Tow'rs
Shake, in convulsive Ruins, to the Ground.—
As stubborn Steers by brawny Plowmen broke,
And let Dissention's Torch for ever burn!
Let Flight no longer now the Coward save,
Nor Age, nor Sex, nor Childhood Pity move:
Let the Earth tremble, and her haughtiest Tow'rs
Shake, in convulsive Ruins, to the Ground.—
And joyn'd reluctant to the galling Yoke,
Alike disdain with servile Necks to bear
Th' unwonted Weight, or drag the crooked Share,
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And all the Furrows in Confusion lay:
Such was the Discord of the royal Pair,
Whom Fury drove precipitate to War.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |