While Anthony without the chance of arms, Contemn’d by all, and lost to glory’s charms, A woman’s signal leads across the wave, To share the just derision of the brave: I shudder at thy weakness and thy shame, The price a worthless mistress pays thy flame; Now Rome disowns thee--blushes to have borne The power of him who fills the world with scorn; O hero still belov’d, ere quite undone, Recal the palms thy youthful valour won; Recal those times, those actions, that applause, That join’d the senate people in thy cause, When Rome in Cæsar’s friend beheld him live, And emulation all his worth revive. Then judge, unhappy, of thy heart’s estate, Thyself avenging Brutus’ hapless fate; Betray’d by female arts to boast a flame, That leads to thy misfortune and thy shame; ’Tis she that stifles all the warrior’s glow, And tears the fading laurel from thy brow. O husband mid thy weakness, still too dear Are such the actions of a love sincere; Grant but these lines with true affection fraught, The calm indulgence of unbiass’d thought; Does not remorse, even in some tender hour, O’er thy fond soul extend her chilling power; How oft do Rome and sad Octavia rise, And glance reproaches to thy mental eyes; Ah if ’tis so, and thy repentant soul Has felt the salutary griefs controul, Permit, at length permit this trembling hand, To mention honour’s claim and love’s demand; And if some crime thy just aversion draws, Tell, only cruel, tell the hapless cause. My brother all prepar’d, assum’d his arms, When war between you kindled fierce alarms; To reunite two heroes then became Of me, the glorious and successful aim; Your jarring int’rests in one point to blend, And change each stern opponent to a friend; Our marriage made--I hop’d to ratifie Your union, and confirm the mutual tie. Th’ Egyptian queen, her love, your weakness prov’d, No apprehensions in my bosom mov’d. Ev’n Cleopatra secretly defy’d, I hop’d to humble guilty beauty’s pride, And wish’d in loving thee, th’exalted fate, To punish her, and greatly serve the state. Rome sought, applauding, from my eyes to raise, The pleasing prospect of serener days; These glorious aims inflam’d my ardent breast, And tender prepossession did the rest. That happy day on which thy faith was giv’n, Bestow’d dear Anthony, the joys of heaven! What pomp, great Gods! and with what transport join’d To sway the lords of Rome, and of mankind; I dissipated rage and banish’d art, And rul’d a brother’s and a husband’s heart. Extinguish’d in her breast discordant hate, And reign’d the sovereign of the Roman state. A pardonable pride I dare confess, That generous pride that only knows to bless; The love of Cleopatra, her alarms, Augmented both my triumphs and my charms. The conqu’ror crown’d his conquest with repose, And own’d the laws affection dar’d impose. With war and with Octavia shar’d his life,