Her Impious Troops did ftill the Rich invade,
And either found a Caufe for War, or made.
With Seeds of Woe thus Fate the Empire fill'd,
And a Luxurious Soil in Mifchiefs till'd.
In Wealth abounding, difficult to please,
The pamper'd City ranfacks Earth and Seas:
She fcorns the Dye which Tyrian Altars boast,
And feeks a nobler on th' Iberian Coaft.
Her wanton Troops in purple Armour Shine,
Deck'd with the Speil of Gods and things Divine;
Naked and bare their facred Wardrobe ftands
Too much expos'd to Sacrilegious Hands:
The Indian Silks the Arabs Species lend,
And rich Perfumes in hazy Clouds afcend:
O'er Lybian Fields the painted Leopard flies,
And for his Skin the gaudy Monfter dies:
The warlike Beafts, which on Tarentum's Plain
Fabricius beat, are for their Ivory flain:
And Punick Hunt fmens mercenary Guilt
Forgets the Blood their beastial Soldiers spilt.
Tet deeper Crimes foretel her certain Doom,
Calling for Vengeance on Luxurious Rome.

Nom

Thus wretched Rome does her own Ruin share;
She fells her felf, and is her felf the Ware.

All lands are mortgag'd,the whole Empires bound,
And in the Ufe the Principal is drown'd.
Thus Debt's a Fever, and, like that Difeafe,
Bred in our Bowels by unfelt degrees,
Will thro' our Vitals every Member feize.

Fierce Tumults now to Arms for Succour call, For Want may dare, but never fear a Fall. Wafted by Riot, Wealth's an Ulcerous Sore

That only Wounds can its loft ftrength restore.
What Rules of Reason, or foft gentle ways,
Rome from this Lethargy of Vice can raife?
When fuch mild Arts can no impreffion make,
Wars, Tumults, Noife, and Fury muft awake.
Fortune one Age with three great Chiefs fupply'd,
Who by the Sword in various manner dy'd:
On Afia's Plains the Parthians Craffus flew,
An broke his Troops with their revengeful Tew.
Great Pompey's Blood the Egyptian Tyrant fhed;
In thanklefs Rome the murder'd Cæfar bled.
Thus, as one Soil alone too narrow were
Their glorious Duft and great Remains to bear,

O'er

O'er all the Earth their scatter'd Ruin lies,
Which no one World could in it felf comprize.
Betwixt Parthenope and Baja's Tide

A Cavern lies, moft dreadful, deep, and wide.
Here beavy Styx and dire Cocytus Streams
Emit fulphureous Fogs and hazy Steamis;
Around the fatal Compass of their Breath,
No joyful Springs indulge the fruitful Earth;
Nothing but black Confufion all around,
Omens of Death, and Birds obfcene are found;
Where lonely Rocks in difmal Quiet mourn,
Which Cyprefs fhade, and gloomy Tews adorn.
Here Pluto rais'd bis Head, and thro' a Cloud
Of Smoke material, unto Fortune bow'd;

Then Spake,-Great Queen, whofe foreign Sway a
No lefs than Fate, both Gods and Men obey,
You feldom like what too fecurely ftands;

Does Rome not tire your faint fupporting Hands?
How can you longer bear her finking Frame?
Nor Romans bate, who hate the Roman Name.
See, all around luxurious Trophies lie,

And their decreafing Wealth new Ills Supply.

Here Golden Piles the azure Skies invade,

There on the Sea incroaching Moles are made
On Palaces here Spicy Groves are feen,
And verdant Woods load Deities marine 5
Inverted Nature's injur'd Laws they wrong,
And threaten Realms which do to me belong.
Such mighty Caverns in the Earth they make,
They undermine, and Hell's Foundations shake:
Whilft near the Verge of Night they fink for Stone,
And hollow Rocks beneath their Fury groan;
Proud in Expectance of forbidden Day,
The haughty Ghofts begin to difobey."

Fortune, be kind; fign this proud City's Dcom,
And lay in Duft the glitt'ring Spires of Rome.
No Age or Sex, propitious Goddefs, Spare,
But crowd with Spirits the infernal Air.
Infernal Lips nobuman Victims tafte;
For want of Food, Hell's footy Dæmons waße.
When Sylla's Sword let out a purple Flood,
And Roman Gods were ftain'd with Roman Blood,
Then Hell rejoyc'd.- The Goddefs frait replies,
Father, whofe Realm beneath our Empire lies,

If dangerous Truths may be with Safety told,
My Thoughts with yours a due Proportion hold.
A Senfe of Wrongs my injur'd Breaft infpires,
And Rage my Mind with juft Refentment fires.
I curse the Blefings which to Rome I lent,
And of my Bounty, now abus'd, repent.
Thus the proud Height of Rome's afpiring Walls,
By the fame God that rais'd her Grandeur, falls.
Methinks I fee Pharfalia's fatal Plain

Glutted with Blood of noble Romans flain;
Congefted Piles the mighty Slaughter tell,
And pitying Gods mourn the fad Work of Hell.
Ægyptian Woes and Lybian Groans I hear;
Their Sun-burnt Dead in ghaftly Shapes appear.
At Actium Cæfar's Naval Force prevails,
And Cleopatra flies with purple Sails;
Foreboding Signs a bloody Harveft tell,

Set

open all the Avenues of Hell.

Charon to Proferpine can ne'er convey,
The num'rous Dead fhall for their Paffage ftay;

Furies fhall be with the vast Ruin crown'd,

And, fill'd with Blood, remangle ev'ry Wound.