Of these a captain of the guards was worst,[82] Whose memory to this day stands accurst. This rogue, advanced to military trust By his own whoredom, and his sister's lust, Forsook his master, after dreadful vows, And plotted to betray him to his foes; The kindest master to the vilest slave, As free to give, as he was sure to crave. His haughty female, who, as books declare,[83] Did always toss wide nostrils in the air, Was to the younger Tullia governess, } And did attend her, when, in borrowed dress, } She fled by night from Tullius in distress. } This wretch, by letters, did invite his foes, And used all arts her father to depose; A father, always generously bent, So kind, that even her wishes he'd prevent. 'Twas now high time for Tullius to retreat, When even his daughter hastened his defeat; When faith and duty vanished, and no more The name of father and of king he bore: A king, whose right his foes could ne'er dispute; So mild, that mercy was his attribute; Affable, kind, and easy of access; Swift to relieve, unwilling to oppress; Rich without taxes, yet in payment just; So honest, that he hardly could distrust: His active soul from labours ne'er did cease, Valiant in war, and vigilant in peace; Studious with traffic to enrich the land, Strong to protect, and skilful to command Liberal and splendid, yet without excess; Prone to relieve, unwilling to distress: In sum, how godlike must his nature be, Whose only fault was too much piety! This king removed, the assembled states thought fit, That Tarquin in the vacant throne should sit; Voted him regent in their senate-house, And with an empty name endowed his spouse.[84] The elder Tullia, who, some authors feign, Drove o'er her father's corse a rumbling wain: But she, more guilty, numerous wains did drive, To crush her father and her king alive; And in remembrance of his hastened fall, Resolved to institute a weekly ball.[85] The jolly glutton grew in bulk and chin, Feasted on rapine, and enjoyed her sin; With luxury she did weak reason force, Debauched good-nature, and cram'd down remorse; Yet when she drank cold tea in liberal sups, The sobbing dame was maudling in her cups. But brutal Tarquin never did relent, Too hard to melt, too wicked to repent; Cruel in deeds, more merciless in will, And blest with natural delight in ill. From a wise guardian he received his doom To walk the change, and not to govern Rome. He swore his native honours to disown, And did by perjury ascend the throne. Oh! had that oath his swelling pride represt, Rome had been then with peace and plenty blest. But Tarquin, guided by destructive fate, The country wasted, and embroiled the state, Transported to their foes the Roman pelf,