Honour'd on Earth, and worthy of the Love
Of such a Spouse, as now resides above,
Some Respite to thy killing Griefs afford;
And if thou would'st once more behold thy Lord,
Retire to yon steep Mount, with Groves o'er-spread,
Which with an awful Gloom his Temple shade.
With Fear the modest Matron lifts her Eyes,
And to the bright Embassadress replies:———
O Goddess, yet to mortal Eyes unknown,
But sure thy various Charms confess thee one:
O quick to Romulus thy Votress bear,
With Looks of Love he'll smile away my Care;
In what-e'er Orb he shines, my Heav'n is there;
Then hastes with Iris to the holy Grove,
And up the mount Quirinal as they move,
A lambent Flame glides downward thro' the Air,
And brightens with a Blaze Hersilia's Hair.
Together on the bounding Ray they rise,
And shoot a Gleam of Light along the Skies.
With op'ning Arms Quirinus met his Bride,
Now Ora nam'd, and press'd her to his Side.
The End of the Fourteenth Book.
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