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 Thro' blooming groves his tardy progress wait, And set him gently down at Phœbus' gate, The while he sings, before the hallow'd shrine, The sacred poets, and the tuneful nine. Here then in Roman numbers will we rise And lift the fame of Virgil to the skies; Ausonia's pride and boast; who brings along Strength to my lines, and spirit to my song: First how the mighty bard transported o'er The sacred muses from the Aonian shore; Led the fair sisters to th' Hesperian plains, And sung in Roman towns the Grecian strains; How in his youth to woods and groves he fled, And sweetly tun'd the soft Sicilian reed; Next, how in pity to th' Ausonian swains, He rais'd to heav'n the honours of the plains; Rapt in Triptolemus his car on high, He scatter'd peace and plenty from the sky; Fir'd with his country's Fame, with loud alarms, At last he rous'd all Latium up to arms; In just array the Phrygian troops bestow'd, And spoke the voice and language of a god. Father