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Venus at last beholds her godlike fon
Triumphant, and the field of battle wong
Brave Turnus Nain ; strong Ardea but a name,
And buried in fierce deluges of flame;
Her towers, that boasted once a sovereign sway,
The fate of fancy'd grandeur now betray.
A familh'd heron from the ashes springs,
And beats the ruin with disastrous wings ; · Calamities of towns diftrest she feigns,
And oft', with woeful shrieks, of war complains.
Now had Æneas, as ordain'd by Fate,
Surviv'd the period of Saturnia's hate :
And, by a sure irrevocable doom,
Fix'd the immortal majesty of Rome.
Fit for the station of his kindred stars,
His mother Goddess thus her suit prefers :
Almighty arbiter, whose powerful nod
Shakes distant earth, and bows our own abode;
To thy great progeny indulgent be,
And rank the Goddess-born a deity.
Already has he view'd, with mortal eyes,
Thy brother's kingdoms of the nether skies.
Forthwith a conclave of the Godhead meets,
Where Juno in the shining senate sits.
Remorse for past revenge the Goddess feels;
Then thundering Jove th' almighty mandate scals ;
Allots the prince of his celestial line
An apothëosis, and rights divine.
The cryftal mansions echo with applause,
And, with her graces, Love's bright queen withdraws;
Shoots in a blaze of light along the skies,
And, borne by turtle, to Laurentum flies ;
Alights where through the reeds Numicius strays,
And to the seas his
The God the supplicates, to wash away
The parts more gross, and subject to decay,
And cleanse the Goddess-born from feininal allay.
The horned food with glad attention stands,
Then bids his streams obey their fire's commands.
His better parts by lustral waves refin'd,
More pure, and nearer to æthereal mind,
With gums of fragrant scent the Goddess strews,
And on his features breathes ambrosial dews.
Thus deify'd, new honours Rome decrees,
Shrines, festivals; and ftiles him Indiges.
THE LINE OF THE LATIAN KINGS. Ascanius now the Latian sceptre sways ; The Alban nation Sylvius next obeys. Then young
Latinus: Next an Alba came, The grace and guardian of the Alban name. Then Epitus'; then gentle Capys reign'd; Then Capetis the regal power sustain’d. Next he who perish'd on the Tuscan flood, And honour'd with his name the River God,
Now haughty. Romulus began his reign,
Who fell-by thunder he aspird to feign.
Meek Acrota succeeded to the crown;
From peace endeavouring, more than arms, renown,
To Aventinus well refign'd his throne.
The Mount on which he ruld preserves his name,
And Procas wore the regal diadem.
THE STORY OF VERTUMNU'S AND POMONA,
A Hama:dryad flourish'd in these days,
Her name Pomona, from her woodland race,
In garden culture none could so excel,
Or form the pliant souls of plants so well;
Or to the fruit more generous flavours lend,
Or teach the trees with nobler loads to bend.
The Nymph frequented not the flattering stream,
Nor meads, the subject of a virgin's dream ;
But to such joys her nursery did prefer,
Alone to tend her vegetable care.
A pruning-hook she carry'd in her hand,
And taught the stragglers to obey comınand;
Lest the licentious and unthrifty bough,
The too-indulgent parent should undo.
She shows, how stocks invite to their embrace
A graft, and naturalize a foreign race
To mend the salvage teint; and in its stead
Adopt new nature, and a nobler breed.
Now hourly the observes her growing care,
And guards their nonage from the bleaker air :
Then opes her streaming sluices, to supply
With flowing draughts her thirsty family.
Long had the labour'd to continue free
From chains of love, and nuptial tyranny ;
And, in her orchard's small extent immurd,
Her vow'd virginity she still secur’d.
Oft' would loofe Pan, and all the lustful train
Of satyrs, tempt her innocence in vain.
Silenus, that old dotard, own'd a flame;
And he, that frights the thieves with stratagem
Of sword, and something else too gross to name.
Vertumnus too pursued the maid no less ;
But, with his rivals, shar'd a like success.
To gain access, a thousand ways he tries ;
Oft', in the hind, the lover would disguise.
The heedless lout comes thambling on, and seems
Just sweating from the labour of his teams.
Then, from the harvest, oft'the mimic swain
Seems bending with a load of bearded grain.
Sometimes a dresser of the vine he feigns,
And lawless tendrils to their bounds restrains.
Sometimes his sword a soldier shews ; his rod,
An angler; ftill so various is the God.
Now, in a forehead cloth, some crone he secms,
A staff supplying the defect of limbs ;
Admittance thus he gains ; admires the store
Of fairest fruit; the fair poffeffor more ;
Then greets her with a kiss : Th' unpractis'd dame
Admir'd a grandame kiss’d with such a filame.
Now, feated by her, he beholds a vine
Around an elm in amorous foldings twine.
If that fair elm, he cry'd, alone should stand,
No grapes would glow with gold, and tempt the hand;
Or, if that vine without her elm should
grow, "Twould creep a poor neglected shrub below.
Be then, fair Nymph, by these examples led;
Nor shun, for fancy'd fears, the nuptial bed.
Not the for whom the Lapithites took arms,
Nor Sparta's queen, could boast such heavenly charms.
And, if you would on woman's faith rely,
None can your choice direct su well as I.
Though old, so much Pomona I adore,
Scarce does the bright Vertumnus love her more.
fair self alone his breast inspires
With softest wishes and unsoild desires.
Then fly all vulgar followers, and prove
The God of Seasons only worth your love :
On my assurance well you may repose;
Vertumnus scarce Vertumnus better knows.
True to his choice, all looser fames he fics;
Nor for new faces fashionably dies.
The charms of youth, and every similing grace,
Bloom in his features, and the God confess.
Besides, he puts on every shape at ease;
But those the most that best Pomona please.
Still to oblige her is her lover's aim ;
Their likings and aversions are the same.
Not the fair fruit your burden'd branches bear,
Nor all the youthful product of the year',