In mute attention sate the kindling heroes;

And as the mighty master touch'd the lyre,

Their glowing bosoms heave with thirst of praise. From sacred Troy the lofty strain began,

When fierce Minerva wrapp'd her walls in flames.
And next he sang, whom Juno's wrath pursu'd,t
Unnumber'd perils destin'd to sustain,

Now tost by tempests, now by arms assail'd;
Till, led by fate to Latium's promis'd shore,
Th' Ausonian bride his finish'd toil rewards.
But when the sire of gods, by Venus mov'd,
In the blest synod of th' eternal pow'rs,
Receiv'd the favour'd hero, (where he sits
With great Alcides, Jove's all-conqu❜ring son,
Grac'd with immortal youth,) Ascanius fill'd
The Latian throne. And now the poet sung
Silvius, enamour'd of the beauteous dame.

The beauteous dame deriv'd her race divine

t Eneas.

From Faunus, long in Latian realms ador'd,

And hoary Saturn, Jove's immortal sire.

They lov'd in secret, till her swelling waist

Their stolen joys betray'd. Then prophets sung

*

Portentous strains. At length, foredoom'd the bane o

Of those who gave him life, a guiltless parricide,

Sprung into light the fatal babe. Amidst.
Lucina's throes the mother dies; the sire,
Pierc'd in the silvan chace, distains with blood
His son's keen arrow, by the furies turn'd
Wide from its aim. For this disastrous deed
The son, ill-fated, fled th' Ausonian reign,
And roam'd an exile in a foreign land,
In far Chaonia. There, by thirst of fame
Impell'd, and fir'd to high, heroic deeds,

He glean'd the relics of the Trojan name,

And shook astonish'd Greece with dire alarms.

Thence led by heav'n his vent'rous sails unfurl'd, ga zat

And prest the bosom of the stormy deep,

A new Æneas, Now with daring prow,

Full of the god, he stems the raging wave;

Now dyes with hostile blood th' Iberian strand;

Now proud with Gallic spoils. At length appears

The western isle, the period of his toils:

For thus from Leogecia's holy fane,

(Fair Leogecia, once to Cynthia dear,

Till, rous'd to vengeance by an impious race,
She whelm'd the bloomy region in the main.)
The virgin huntress spoke the will of fate :
"Amidst the western waves, an isle explore,
There fix thy empire, Brutus, and thy name.
There through futurity's dim mists I see
A mighty nation, great in arts and arms;
O'ercome by whose transcendent glory, fades
The promis'd lustre of the Roman name.
Hail, happy Britain! hail, belov'd of heav'n!
Immortal mother of the brave and free!"
Thus spoke the goddess of the fatal bow;

Nor were her oracles believ'd in vain :

For as the fleet approach'd the destin'd shore,

The winds were hush'd, and every heaving wave

Subsided. Mov'd by some superior pow'r,
(As if the genius of the land confess'd

Its future lords) the prows divide the deep,
Nor urg'd by sounding oar nor swelling sail.
Then fierce Bellona shakes her flaming brand,
And dreadful deeds are done. In horrent arms
Stood the proud foe: their stature reach'd the sky.
Not that Titanian race more fell, who heap'd
Pelion on Ossa, and defy'd the highest.

Then rush to war the martial race of Troy ;

There great Assaracus, brave Turon there,

And there Corineus wields his fatal lance:
There Brutus like a god appears; and now
Directs the storm, and marks the course of death;
Now lifts his mighty arm, and hurls his thunder.
The savage foe fled howling to their hills,

And trembled in their rocky caves. Their hills,
Their rocky caves are storm'd; nor more secure
The forests' gloomy depth. Fair peace at length

Receives the warriors in her soft embrace,

And Ceres crowns their fields. Another Troy

Now rises, empress of the western world.

Her lofty structures, and her glitt'ring fanes,

The mighty stream, that rolls majestic by,
Surveys, exulting in his future fame.

But now the bard awakens all his fires,

And sweeps with bolder rage the sounding strings;

Invokes the Muse to aid his daring song,

And feels the goddess present at his call.

With glowing bosom, and with sparkling eyes,
The monarch listen'd to the lofty strain.

He sung the hero of the frozen north.

Now pouring dreadful from a thousand ships

His savage warriors on Albania's shore.

How fierce the conflict, by the foaming main,

When Britain fled, and Albanact expir'd!
Mount, haughty Scythian, mount thy lofty decks,
And spread each canvas to the fav'ring gale.

Behold, he comes, the great avenger comes,