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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Flood.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Flood.
See Deluge.
— Eridanus supreme of FloodsRush'd thro' the Forests, tore the lofty Woods,
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Bore Houses, Herds, and lab'ring Hinds away.—
Sweep o'er the yellow Ear, destroy the Pains
Of lab'ring Oxen, and the Peasant's Gains:
Unroot the Forest Oaks, and bear away
Flocks, Folds, and Trees, an undistinguish'd Prey.
The Shepherd climbs the Cliff, and hears from far
The wasteful Ravage of the watry War.—
—With less rapid Force
A foamy River, when th' opposing Dams
Are broken down, rolls rushing o'er the Plain,
And sweeping whirls the Cattle with their Folds.—
—As headlong Rivers flow,
Swoln big with falling Show'rs, or melting Snow:
And Shrubs and Trees o'erturn, and mighty Beams,
And whirl their conquer'd Prey in rapid Streams.
No Bridge can check, no Force the Flood controul,
It grows more wild, and fierce, and beats the Mole:
Ruin and Noise attend where-e'er it flows,
It rolls great Stones, and breaks what dares oppose.—
Where Western Skies the utmost Ocean bound,
The watry Treasures heap the Welkin round:
Thither they croud, and scanted in the Space,
Scarce between Heav'n and Earth can find a Place.
Condens'd at length the spouting Torrents pour,
Earth smokes, and rattles with the gushing Show'r.
The watry Treasures heap the Welkin round:
Thither they croud, and scanted in the Space,
Scarce between Heav'n and Earth can find a Place.
Condens'd at length the spouting Torrents pour,
Earth smokes, and rattles with the gushing Show'r.
Then first the cov'ring Snows began to flow
From off the Pyrenean's hoary Brow:
Huge Hills of Frost, a thousand Ages old,
O'er which the Summer Suns had vainly roll'd,
Now melting, rush from every Side amain,
Swell every Brook, and deluge all the Plain.
No Rock, no rising Mountain rears its Head,
No single River winds along the Mead,
But one vast Lake o'er all the Land is spread.
No lofty Grove, no Forest Haunt is found,
But in his Den deep lies the Savage drown'd:
With headlong Rage, resistless in its Course,
The rapid Torrent whirls the snorting Horse:
High o'er the Sea the foamy Tresses ride,
While backward Tethys turns her yielding Tide.—
From off the Pyrenean's hoary Brow:
Huge Hills of Frost, a thousand Ages old,
O'er which the Summer Suns had vainly roll'd,
Now melting, rush from every Side amain,
Swell every Brook, and deluge all the Plain.
No Rock, no rising Mountain rears its Head,
No single River winds along the Mead,
But one vast Lake o'er all the Land is spread.
No lofty Grove, no Forest Haunt is found,
But in his Den deep lies the Savage drown'd:
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The rapid Torrent whirls the snorting Horse:
High o'er the Sea the foamy Tresses ride,
While backward Tethys turns her yielding Tide.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |