Minerva
Let such examples teach thee to beware
Against the gods thou utter aught profane ;
And if perchance in riches or in power
Thou shin'st superior, be not insolent ;
For, know, a day sufficeth to exalt
Or to depress the state of mortal man :
The wise and good are by the gods beloved,
But those who practise evil they abhor, [^Exeunt.
Monarch of the sea-girt isle,
I'^iiir Salamis, if fortune smile
C)n thee, I raise the tributary song,
For praise and virtue still to thee belong :
But when, inflicted by the wrath of Jove,
Grecian slander blasts thy fame,
And foul reproach attaints thy name,
Then do I tremble like the fearful dove.
80, the last unhappy night,
Glamours loud did reach mine ear
And filled my anxious heart with fear,
Which talked of Grecian cattle slain,
Pleased at his prey, rejoicing at the sight.
Thus false Ulysses can prevail,
Whisp'ring to all his artful tale.
His tale alas ! too willingly received ;
Whilst those who hear are glad to know
And happy to insult thy woe.
For who asperse the great are easily believed.
The poor like us alone are free
From the darts of calumny.
Whilst envy still attends on high estate :
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Small is the aid which we can lend,
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Without the rich and powerful friend ;
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Tlie great support the low, the low assist the great.
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But 'tis a truth which fools will never know ;
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From such alone the clamours came
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Which strove to hurt thy spotless fame,
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Whilst we can only weep, and not relieve thy woe.
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Happy to 'scape thy piercing sight,
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Behold them wing their rapid flight,
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As trembling birds from hungry vultures fly,
Sudden again shouldst thou appear,
The cowards would be mute with fear.
And all their censures in a moment die.
Cynthia, goddess of the grove.
Daughter of immortal Jove,
To whom at Tauris frequent altars rise,
Indignant might inspire the deed,
And bid the guiltless cattle bleed,
Deprived of incense due, and wonted sacrifice.
Perhaps, sad cause of all our grief and shame !
The god of war with brazen shield,
For fancied inj'ries in the field,
Might thus avenge the wrong, and brand thy name,
For never in his perfect mind
On flocks and herds his rage had never spent ;
It was inflicted from above :
May Phoebus and all-powerful Jove
Avert the crime, or stop the punishment !
If to th' Atridse the bold fiction came
From Sisyphus' detested race,
But from thy tents come forth, and vindicate thy
Adds new vigour to thy foes,
As flames from aiding winds still fiercer grow ;
Whilst the loose laugh, and shameless Ue,
And all their bitter calumny,
AVith double weight oppress and fill our hearts with
