That since in Rome thy self forbids thy Stay,
For thy Abode those Acres we convey
The Plough-share can surround, the Labour of a Day.
In Deathless Records thou shalt stand inroll'd,
And Rome's rich Posts shall shine with Horns of Gold.
The Occasion of Æsculapius being
brought to Rome.
By Mr. Welsted.
Melodious Maids of Pindus, who inspire
The flowing Strains, and tune the vocal Lyre;
Tradition's Secrets are unlock'd to you,
Old Tales revive, and Ages past renew;
You, who can hidden Causes best expound,
Say, whence the Isle, which Tiber flows around,
It's Altars with a heav'nly Stranger grac'd,
And in our Shrines the God of Physic plac'd.
A wasting Plague infected Latium's Skies;
Pale, bloodless Looks were seen, with ghastly Eyes;
The dire Disease's Marks each Visage wore,
And the pure Blood was chang'd to putrid Gore:
In vain were human Remedies apply'd;
In vain the Pow'r of healing Herbs was try'd:
Weary'd with Death, they seek Celestial Aid,
And visit Phœbus in his Delphic Shade;
In the World's Centre sacred Delphos stands,
And gives its Oracles to distant Lands:
Here they implore the God, with fervent Vows,
His salutary Power to interpose,
And end a great afflicted City's Woes.
The holy Temple sudden Tremors prov'd;
The Laurel-grove and all its Quivers mov'd;
In hollow Sounds the Priestess, thus, began,
And thro' each Bosom thrilling Horrors ran.
