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 |
 | I. |
|
|
Amazement.
|
| II. |
|
|
|
 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
43
Amazement.
See Alarm.
To Him the Wind with doubtful Terror wafts
The mingled Noise: hoarse Murmurs of Distress,
And Clamours from the City pierce his Ears.
Ah me! what Sounds confus'd, what Cries disturb
The Town? Why rush these Clamours from the Walls?
He said: and, with his Courser's Reins repress'd
In dumb Amaze stood list'ning.—
The mingled Noise: hoarse Murmurs of Distress,
And Clamours from the City pierce his Ears.
Ah me! what Sounds confus'd, what Cries disturb
The Town? Why rush these Clamours from the Walls?
He said: and, with his Courser's Reins repress'd
In dumb Amaze stood list'ning.—
Confounded with the Crowd of various Thoughts,
And stiff'ning with Amaze, the Hero stood,
In Silence deep: within his Bosom boils
Disdainful Shame, and Grief to Madness wrought,
And Love inflam'd with Rage, and conscious Worth.—
And stiff'ning with Amaze, the Hero stood,
In Silence deep: within his Bosom boils
Disdainful Shame, and Grief to Madness wrought,
And Love inflam'd with Rage, and conscious Worth.—
The astonish'd
Youth, where e'er his Eyes could turn,
Beheld the Universe around him burn:
The World was in a Blaze: nor could he bear
The sultry Vapours, and the scorching Air,
Which from below, as from a Furnace flow'd:
And now the Axle-tree beneath him glow'd.
Lost in the whirling Clouds that round him broke,
And white with Ashes, hov'ring in the Smoke,
He flew where-e'er the Horses drove, nor knew
Whither the Horses drove, or where he flew.—
Beheld the Universe around him burn:
The World was in a Blaze: nor could he bear
The sultry Vapours, and the scorching Air,
Which from below, as from a Furnace flow'd:
And now the Axle-tree beneath him glow'd.
Lost in the whirling Clouds that round him broke,
And white with Ashes, hov'ring in the Smoke,
He flew where-e'er the Horses drove, nor knew
Whither the Horses drove, or where he flew.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |