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Sway'd by whose will the laws of change supply
The countless myriads that are born and die—
Ruler of Life and Death—for whatsoe'er
Matter produces, is thy gift and care;
By thee created, it returns to thee,
And souls with bodies mix, or are for ages free:
Oh! break not thou the bonds of peace and love,
Which erst for you our favouring spindles wove;
Nor 'gainst your kindred compact raise around
Rebellion's banners, nor its trumpet sound!
Be not with Earth's unhallow'd brood allied—
But ask of Jove, and He shall give the bride."
Scarce had she ceased, when o'er his haughty brow
Remorse and pity shed their mingled glow,
And the stern mind relaxed, untaught before to bow.
So, when fierce Boreas arms him with the gale,
And crusts his pinions o'er with Getic hail,
When, rough with snows and ice, he longs to sweep
In sounding ruin o'er the land and deep—
If then should Æolus—ere yet too late—
Against his egress close the brazen gate,
Stopt in their course the tempests cease to rave,
And sink repulsed within their guarded cave.
