Of all the Muse's various labours, none
Have lasted longer, or have higher flown,
Than those that tell the fame by ancient heroes won.,
With pleasure, Rome, and great Augustus, heard
"Arms and the man" sung by the Mantuan bard.
In spite of time, the sacred story lives,
And Cæsar and his empire still survives.
Like him (though much unequal to his flame)
Our author makes a pious prince his theme:
High with the foremost names in arms he stood,
Had fought and suffer'd for his country's good,
Yet sought not fame, but peace, in fields of blood,
Safe under him his happy people sate,
And griev'd at distance for their neighbours fate:
Whilst with success a Turkish monarch crown'd,
Like spreading flame, deform'd the nations round;
With sword and fire he forc'd his impious way
To lawless power, and universal sway.
Some abject states for fear the tyrant join,
Others for gold their liberties resign,
And venal princes sold their right divine:
Till heav'n, the growing evil to redress,
Sent Tamerlane to give the world a peace.
The hero, rous'd; asserts the glorious cause,
And to the field the cheerful soldier draws:
Around in crowds his valiant leaders wait,
Anxious for glory, and secure of fate;
Well pleas'd, once more to venture on his side,
And prove that faith again, which had so oft been try'd.
The peaceful fathers, who in senate meet,
Approve an enterprize so just, so great;
While with their prince's arms, their voice thus join'd,
Gains half the praise of having sav'd mankind.
Ev'n in a circle, where, like this, the fair
Were met, the bright assembly did declare,
Their house, with one consent, were for the war;
Each urg'd her lover to unsheath his sword,
And never spare a man who broke his word.
Thus fir'd, the brave on to the danger press;
Their arms were crown'd abroad with just success,
And blest at home with beauty and with peace.