He, when he saw his regal town on fire, His ruin’d palace, and his ent’ring foes, On ev’ry side inevitable woes, In arms, disus’d, invests his limbs, decay’d, Like them, with age; a late and useless aid.
They lie below, on golden beds display’d; And genial feasts with regal pomp are made.
The king ordains their entrance, and ascends His regal seat, surrounded by his friends.
Tarchon, the Tuscan chief, to me has sent Their crown, and ev’ry regal ornament: The people join their own with his desire; And all my conduct, as their king, require.
Messapus, eager to confound the peace, Spurr’d his hot courser thro’ the fighting prease, At King Aulestes, by his purple known A Tuscan prince, and by his regal crown; And, with a shock encount’ring, bore him down.
He paus’d; and, while with wond’ring eyes they view’d The passing spirits, thus his speech renew’d: "See great Marcellus! how, untir’d in toils, He moves with manly grace, how rich with regal spoils!