Both arm’d, with each a charger in his hand: A fatted sow for sacrifice is led, With imprecations on the perjur’d head. Near this, the traitor Metius, stretch’d between Four fiery steeds, is dragg’d along the green, By Tullus’ doom: the brambles drink his blood, And his torn limbs are left the vulture’s food. There, Porsena to Rome proud Tarquin brings, And would by force restore the banish’d kings. One tyrant for his fellow-tyrant fights; The Roman youth assert their native rights. Before the town the Tuscan army lies, To win by famine, or by fraud surprise. Their king, half-threat’ning, half-disdaining stood, While Cocles broke the bridge, and stemm’d the flood. The captive maids there tempt the raging tide, Scap’d from their chains, with Cloelia for their guide. High on a rock heroic Manlius stood, To guard the temple, and the temple’s god. Then Rome was poor; and there you might behold The palace thatch’d with straw, now roof’d with gold. The silver goose before the shining gate There flew, and, by her cackle, sav’d the state. She told the Gauls’ approach; th’ approaching Gauls, Obscure in night, ascend, and seize the walls. The gold dissembled well their yellow hair, And golden chains on their white necks they wear. Gold are their vests; long Alpine spears they wield, And their left arm sustains a length of shield. Hard by, the leaping Salian priests advance; And naked thro’ the streets the mad Luperci dance, In caps of wool; the targets dropp’d from heav’n. Here modest matrons, in soft litters driv’n, To pay their vows in solemn pomp appear, And odorous gums in their chaste hands they bear. Far hence remov’d, the Stygian seats are seen; Pains of the damn’d, and punish’d Catiline Hung on a rock—the traitor; and, around, The Furies hissing from the nether ground. Apart from these, the happy souls he draws, And Cato’s holy ghost dispensing laws.