Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/234

Lo! Cæsar there and all his seed,
Iulus' progeny, decreed
To pass 'neath heaven's high dome.
This, this is he, so oft the theme
Of your prophetic fancy's dream,
Augustus Cæsar, Jove's own strain;
Restorer of the age of gold
In lands where Saturn ruled of old:
O'er Iud and Garamant extreme
Shall stretch his boundless reign.
Look to that land which lies afar
Beyond the path of sun or star,
Where Atlas on his shoulder rears
The burden of the incumbent spheres.
Egypt e'en now and Caspia hear
The muttered voice of many a seer,
And Nile's seven mouths, disturbed with fear,
Their coming conqueror know:
Alcides in his savage chase
Ne'er travelled o'er so wide a space,
What though the brass-hoofed deer he killed,
And Erymanthus' forest stilled,
And Lerna's depth with terror thrilled
At twanging of his bow:
Nor stretched his conquering march so far,
Who drove his ivy-harnessed car
From Nysa's lofty height, and broke
The tiger's spirit 'neath his yoke.
And shrink we in this glorious hour
From bidding worth assert her power,
Or can our craven hearts recoil
From settling on Ausonian soil?

But who is he at distance seen
With priestly garb and olive green?
That reverend beard, that hoary hair
The royal sage of Rome declare,