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102 Whose step secure proclaims her nation made

By thy brave arm from war's dire tumults free.

As fame reports, thus by the gods' behest,

Whirl'd on his rapid wheel Ixion cries—

"Mortals, bear this upon your minds impress'd—

Requite their love from whom your blessings rise."

This truth he from experience drew,

Dwelling with heaven's Saturnian train,

His raptured soul unable grew

Such mighty transport to sustain;

When raging with unhallow'd flame

His wild imagination strove

To ravish the celestial dame

Who shares the glorious couch of Jove.

The deed, with peril fraught, he tried,

By fearless insolence impell'd;

But quickly his aspiring pride

Avenging retribution quell'd.

These crimes with double weight pursued

The sinning hero to his doom,

Hands first in kindred blood imbrued,

A father hurried to the tomb.

Next his endeavour, rash and vain,

The partner of Jove's bed to gain.

Let this instruct ambitious man

The measure of his might to scan;

Since but disgrace and endless wo

From unallow'd embraces flow.

The fool who grasp'd at heavenly charms

Fill'd with a cloud his cheated arms;

Whose form became the stately mien

That marks the bright Saturnian queen.

The hands of Jove this dire deceit

Framed, for his crimes a guerdon meet.