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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Perjury.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Perjury.
How ready now is every Wretch to swear:
How fearless to affront the conscious Gods,
If so from Man he may his Guilt conceal!
Observe, how clear his Voice, when he denies:
How steady! how like Innocence his Look!
By the bright Sun! he swears, by Jove's red Bolts!
By Mars his Lance! and by Apollo's Shafts!
By the sharp Arrows of the Huntress-Maid,
And by her Quiver! by thy mighty Trident,
Neptune, great Father of the vast Ægeon!
To these, he adds, the Bow of Hercules,
Minerva's Spear, and whate'er dreadful Arms
Beside the Magazines of Heav'n contain.
If he a Father is, may I, he cries,
My Son, You Gods! my dearest Son devour,
Dipping each mangled Morsel in the Sauce,
If I'm not innocent.—
How fearless to affront the conscious Gods,
If so from Man he may his Guilt conceal!
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How steady! how like Innocence his Look!
By the bright Sun! he swears, by Jove's red Bolts!
By Mars his Lance! and by Apollo's Shafts!
By the sharp Arrows of the Huntress-Maid,
And by her Quiver! by thy mighty Trident,
Neptune, great Father of the vast Ægeon!
To these, he adds, the Bow of Hercules,
Minerva's Spear, and whate'er dreadful Arms
Beside the Magazines of Heav'n contain.
If he a Father is, may I, he cries,
My Son, You Gods! my dearest Son devour,
Dipping each mangled Morsel in the Sauce,
If I'm not innocent.—
Dare him to swear, he with a chearful Face,
Flies to the Shrine, and bids Thee mend thy Pace:
He urges, goes before Thee, shews the Way,
Nay, pulls Thee on, and chides thy dull Delay:
For Confidence in Sin, when mixt with Zeal,
Seems Innocence, and looks to most as well.—
Flies to the Shrine, and bids Thee mend thy Pace:
He urges, goes before Thee, shews the Way,
Nay, pulls Thee on, and chides thy dull Delay:
For Confidence in Sin, when mixt with Zeal,
Seems Innocence, and looks to most as well.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |