shall glow,
Nor art, nor pride, nor wandering wishes know.

Then should'st thou languish, sigh, and weep once more,
And with new vows his injur'd heart implore,
Nor sighs, nor vows, nor tears shall he regard
Cold as the snow and as the marble hard.

And THOU, triumphant Youth, so gay, so vain,
Proud of my fate, exulting in my pain,
Tho' on thy hills the plenteous Herd should feed,
And rich Pactolus roll along thy mead;
For thee tho' Science ope the varied store,
And Beauty on thy form its graces pour,
Ere long shalt thou, while wrongs like these degrade,
Droop with my woes, and with my rage upbraid;
See on a Rival's brow thy garlands worn,
And, with her falsehood, bear my jocund scorn.

TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE,

ON THEIR RENEWING THE CIVIL WARS.

BOOK THE FIFTH, ODE THE SEVENTH.

Where do ye rush, ye impious Trains,
Why gleams afar the late-sheath'd sword?
Is it believ'd that Roman veins
Their crimson tides have _sparely_ pour'd?
Is not our scorn of safety, health, and ease,
Shewn by devasted climes, and blood-stain'd seas?

Those scowling brows, those lifted spears,
Bend they against the threat'ning towers
Proud Carthage emulously rears?
Or Britain's still unconquer'd shores?
That her fierce Sons, yet free from hostile sway,
May pass in chains along our SACRED WAY?

No!--but that warring Parthia's curse
May quickly blast these far-famed Walls;
_Accomplish'd_ when, with direful force,
By her _own_ strength the City falls;
When Foes no more her might resistless feel,
But Roman bosoms bleed by Roman steel.

O! worse than Wolves, or Lions fierce,
Who ne'er, like you, assault their kind!
By what wild phrenzy would ye pierce
Each other's breast in fury blind?--
Silent, and pale ye stand, with conscious sighs,
Your struck soul louring in your down-cast eyes!

The blood our rising walls that stain'd,
Shed by the [1]ruthless Fratricide,
High Heaven's avenging power ordain'd
Should spread the rage of discord wide,
Bid kindred Blood in dread profusion flow
Thro' darken'd years of expiatory woe.

1: Romulus, who killed his Brother Remus, for ridiculing his Wall by
leaping over it.

_FINIS._

Transcriber's Note: Macrons are denoted as [=a], [=e], etc.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Original sonnets on various subjects;
and odes paraphrased from Horace, by Anna Sewar