Thy fields, propitious Pales, I rehearse; And sing thy pastures in no vulgar verse, Amphrysian shepherd! the Lycæan woods, Arcadia's flowery plains, and pleasing floods. All other themes, that careless minds invite, Are worn with use, unworthy me to write. Busiris' altars, and the dire decrees Of hard Eurystheus, every reader sees: Hylas the boy, Latona's erring isle, And Pelops' ivory shoulder, and his toil For fair Hippodame, with all the rest Of Grecian tales, by poets are expressed. New ways I must attempt, my grovelling name To raise aloft, and wing my flight to fame. I, first of Romans, shall in triumph come From conquered Greece and bring her trophies home, With foreign spoils adorn my native place, And with Idume's palms my Mantua grace. Of Parian stone a temple will I raise, Where the slow Mincius through the valley strays, Where cooling streams invite the flocks to drink, And reeds defend the winding water's brink. Full in the midst shall mighty Cæsar stand, Hold the chief honours, and the dome command. Then I, conspicuous in my Tyrian gown, (Submitting to his godhead my renown,) A hundred coursers from the goal will drive: The rival chariots in the race shall strive. All Greece shall flock from far, my games to see; The whorlbat, and the rapid race, shall be Reserved for Cæsar, and ordained by me. Myself, with olive crowned, the gifts will bear. Even now methinks the public shouts I hear; The passing pageants, and the pomps appear. I to the temple will conduct the crew, The sacrifice and sacrificers view, From thence return, attended with my train, Where the proud theatres disclose the scene, Which interwoven Britons seem to raise, And shew the triumph which their shame displays. High o'er the gate, in elephant and gold, The crowd shall Cæsar's Indian war behold: The Nile shall flow beneath; and, on the side, His shattered ships on brazen pillars ride. Next him Niphates,[13] with inverted urn, And dropping sedge,[14] shall his Armenia mourn; And Asian cities in our triumph borne. With backward bows the Parthians shall be there, And, spurring from the fight, confess their fear. A double wreath shall crown our Cæsar's brows-- Two differing trophies, from two different foes. Europe with Afric in his fame shall join; But neither shore his conquest[15] shall confine. The Parian marble there shall seem to move In breathing statues, not unworthy Jove, Resembling heroes, whose etherial root Is Jove himself, and Cæsar is the fruit. Tros and his race the sculptor shall employ; And he--the god who built the walls of Troy; Envy herself at last, grown pale and dumb, (By Cæsar combated and overcome,) Shall give her hands, and fear the curling snakes Of lashing Furies, and the burning lakes; The pains of famished Tantalus shall feel, } And Sisyphus, that labours up the hill }