the English Nation.
207
Semblent dire en grondant aux plus lointains rivages
Que l'effroi de la terre & ton Maître n'eſt plus.
Tel au ciel autrefois s'envola Romulus,
Tel il quita la Terre, au milieu des orages,
Tel d'un peuple guerrier il reçut les homages;
Obéï dans ſa vie, à ſa mort adoré,
Son palais fut un Temple, &c.
We muſt reſign! Heav'n his great Soul does claim
In Storms as loud as his immortal Fame:
His dying Groans, his laſt Breath ſhakes our Iſle,
And Trees uncut fall for his fun'ral Pile:
About his Palace their broad Roots are toſt
Into the Air; ſo Romulus was loſt!
New Rome in ſuch a Tempeſt miſs'd her King,
And from obeying fell to worſhipping:
On
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