Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/308

While mighty Nile, through all his frame
Deep shuddering for his people's shame,
His ample vesture opened wide,
Invites the vanquished host to hide
Within his azure bed.
Cæsar, of triple triumph proud,
Pays to Rome's gods the gift he vowed,
Three hundred fanes of stone:
The live streets ring with shouts and games
Each shrine is thronged by grateful dames,
Each floor with victims strown.
Himself, bright Phœbus' gate before,
At leisure tells the offerings o'er,
And fastens on the gorgeous door
The first-fruits of the prey:
There march the captives, all and each,
In garb as diverse as in speech,
A multiform array.
The houseless Nomad there is shown,
And Afric tribes that wear no zone,
And Morini, extreme of men,
And Dahæ, masterless till then:
Gelonians too, with bended bows,
And Leleges, and Carian foes:
Euphrates droops his head, and flows
With less of billowy pride:
Old Rhine extends his branching horns,
And passion-chafed Araxes scorns
The bridge that spans his tide.
Such legends traced on Vulcan's shield
The wondering chief surveys:
On truth in symbol half revealed
He feasts his hungry gaze,
And high upon his shoulders rears
The fame and fates of unborn years.