Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/234

210 Lo! Cæsar there and all his seed,

Iulus' progeny, decreed

To pass 'neath heaven's high dome.

This, this is he, so oft the theme

Of your prophetic fancy's dream,

Augustus Cæsar, Jove's own strain;

Restorer of the age of gold

In lands where Saturn ruled of old:

O'er Iud and Garamant extreme

Shall stretch his boundless reign.

Look to that land which lies afar

Beyond the path of sun or star,

Where Atlas on his shoulder rears

The burden of the incumbent spheres.

Egypt e'en now and Caspia hear

The muttered voice of many a seer,

And Nile's seven mouths, disturbed with fear,

Their coming conqueror know:

Alcides in his savage chase

Ne'er travelled o'er so wide a space,

What though the brass-hoofed deer he killed,

And Erymanthus' forest stilled,

And Lerna's depth with terror thrilled

At twanging of his bow:

Nor stretched his conquering march so far,

Who drove his ivy-harnessed car

From Nysa's lofty height, and broke

The tiger's spirit 'neath his yoke.

And shrink we in this glorious hour

From bidding worth assert her power,

Or can our craven hearts recoil

From settling on Ausonian soil?

But who is he at distance seen

With priestly garb and olive green?

That reverend beard, that hoary hair

The royal sage of Rome declare,