But come, unhappy man! thy fates impend; Come, quit thy friends, if yet thou hast a friend; 270 Turn from the poor rewards of guilt like thine, Renounce thy titles, and thy robes resign; For see the hand of Destiny display'd To shut thee from the joys thou hast betray'd! See the dire fane of Infamy arise! Dark as the grave, and spacious as the skies; Where, from the first of time, thy kindred train, The chiefs and princes of the unjust remain. Eternal barriers guard the pathless road To warn the wanderer of the cursed abode; 280 But prone as whirlwinds scour the passive sky, The heights surmounted, down the steep they fly. There, black with frowns, relentless Time awaits, And goads their footsteps to the guilty gates; And still he asks them of their unknown aims, Evolves their secrets, and their guilt proclaims; And still his hands despoil them on the road Of each vain wreath, by lying bards bestow'd, Break their proud marbles, crush their festal cars, And rend the lawless trophies of their wars. 290 At last the gates his potent voice obey; Fierce to their dark abode he drives his prey; Where, ever arm'd with adamantine chains, The watchful demon o'er her vassals reigns, O'er mighty names and giant-powers of lust, The great, the sage, the happy, and august [3]. No gleam of hope their baleful mansion cheers, No sound of honour hails their unbless'd ears; But dire reproaches from the friend betray'd, The childless sire and violated maid; 300 But vengeful vows for guardian laws effaced, From towns enslaved, and continents laid waste; But long posterity's united groan, And the sad charge of horrors not their own, For ever through the trembling space resound, And sink each impious forehead to the ground. Ye mighty foes of liberty and rest, Give way, do homage to a mightier guest! Ye daring spirits of the Roman race, See Curio's toil your proudest claims efface!-- 310 Awed at the name, fierce Appius [4] rising bends, And hardy Cinna from his throne attends: 'He comes,' they cry, 'to whom the fates assign'd With surer arts to work what we design'd, From year to year the stubborn herd to sway, Mouth all their wrongs, and all their rage obey; Till own'd their guide, and trusted with their power, He mock'd their hopes in one decisive hour; Then, tired and yielding, led them to the chain, And quench'd the spirit we provoked in vain.' 320