Where, thro’ nine ample Mouths, Timavus pours,
Wide as a Sea, and deluges the Shores;
The Flood rebellows, and the Mountain roars.
Yet, with his Colonies, secure he came,
Rais’d Padua’s Walls, and gave the Realms a Name. 330
Then fix’d his Trojan Arms; his Labours cease;
And now the hoary Monarch reigns in Peace.
But we, your Progeny, ordain’d to rise
And share th’ eternal Honours of the Skies,
To glut the Rage of one, our Vessels lost,335
(Hard Fate!) thrown wide, and barr’d the promis’d Coast.
Are these the Palms that Virtue must obtain?
And is our Empire thus restor’d again?
The Sire of Men and Gods, superior, smil’d
On the sad Queen, and gently kiss’d his Child. 340
Then, with those Looks that clear the clouded Skies,
And calm the raging Tempest, he replies.
Daughter,
