Augustus. a. U. C. 725

In life's soft down, remov'd from peril far, By an adopting parent's early care, Like the small bird beneath the eagle's wing, Octavius heard the civil tempest sing. Him mighty Julius for his heir design'd, Pleas'd with his manners, and enlighten'd mind; His winning air, his feeble health when young, Made the soft tie of natural love more strong: Nor to the dauntless uncle were reveal'd The faults his youth, or artifice, conceal'd; For in the smoothness of the smiling boy, There lurk'd a future Sylla, to destroy. Thus Zara's tiger, tam'd by human care, May for a while his inborn rage forbear, Sequacious seek the haunts where men resort, And with mild gambols make his keepers sport; But if warm vital blood distain his jaws, No longer he contracts his dreadful claws; His nostrils swell, each fang is sharp with death, In smother'd volumes rolls his firy breath; No blandishments his fury can restrain, And all the native savage glares again. No towering stature gave his form its grace, But fine proportion, and Hyperion's face; With eyes to irradiate his imposing mien, Divinely bright, yet awfully serene: So strong their lustre, a fierce Gaul declar'd It frustrated the blow his arm prepar'd: Struck by their beams, he gaz'd his rage away, And almost worship'd whom he meant to slay. Yet nature these fallacious orbs design'd But as bright vizors to a hideous mind: Fair to the sight the exterior fabrick rose, But who could wish the inside to disclose? In him combin'd the extremes of sense and vice, Consummate art, and cruel cowardice. That craft, which others by experience earn'd, His callow youth intuitively learn'd; Whether he wrote, or spoke, or frown'd, or smil'd, In every mood, to prosper, he beguil'd. E'en Tully was his dupe; at once he saw Through all its varying rays, that diamond's flaw: Feigning at first by his advice to rise, He plied him with insidious flatteries; And thus secur'd that never-failing voice, To dignify the adopting tyrant's choice: Led by his hand, and growing to his side, He call'd him father, counsellor, and guide; Yet little could these tender titles plead, When furious Antony proscrib'd his head. Such are the virtues which on tyrants wait, And such the hollow friendships of the great: Thus by the pupil was the tutor school'd, While the grey statesman the green stripling rul'd. O base improvidence of manly fame! Foul deed consign'd to everlasting shame! Thy tame assent, which bade that blood be spilt, Pollutes thee deeper than the assassin's guilt: Still shall the black ingratitude remain, Nor "all great Neptune's ocean" cleanse the stain. His measures with his character conform'd; He sapp'd the liberty, which Julius storm'd. As the smooth stream, which, glist'ning thro' the grove, Glides on, and gliding mines its banks above, So every rampart freedom could provide, Silent sunk in, to swell the imperial tide. Interest and fear, his principles innate, Made him admire the brave, not emulate: Unfit for arms, he war'd against his will, Deeming e'en conquest but a splendid ill. And sure 'twas strange, in the same mind to see, Such vast ambition, with timidity; Strange, two strong passions in one breast should meet, Where each seem'd form'd the other to defeat; For fear's tame pinion seldom soars a flight To the proud region of an empire's height: Life's humble vale, where safety dwells, she loves, And flits from palaces to shelt'ring groves. Agrippa's valour won his arms renown, And soft Maecenas deck'd his civick crown. Where'er the poet flattering incense burn'd, Its grateful odour on the prince he turn'd; For well the imperial dastard's soul was known, And adulation kept its terrors down. Yet with Maecenas this renown he shar'd, True genius to discern, and to reward; The charms of song his inmost soul could pierce, For danger lurks not in harmonious verse: Enraptur'd with the Mantuan would he sit, Lov'd easy Horace, and loose Ovid's wit; Nor unprovok'd, nor willingly, he sent That ill-star'd libertine to banishment; And letter'd Gallus, who so ill return'd His sovereign bounty, guilty fell, yet mourn'd. Twice to be weary of his power he feign'd, Yet still the burden to the last retain'd; His conscious council read his thoughts aright, Dispell'd his doubts, and sooth'd the hypocrite. The closest echo to the prince's mind, Will with the prince the best acceptance find: Not truly to relinquish he desir'd What so much labour and such crimes acquir'd. Yet fear, corroder of the human breast, Allow'd him sometimes joy, but seldom rest: Beneath his robe a plaited mail he wore, A jealous guard secur'd his audience-door: Ent'ring, each senator was forc'd to feel The ruffian's palm, who search'd for secret steel: Thus despots pay the forfeit of their wrong, Suspicion in their hearts, and flattery on the tongue. If this be greatness, greatness sure was given In wrath, not bounty, by consenting heaven. Be wiser, mortals! nor let vows aspire, That Jove may curse you by your own desire. O hard-earn'd tyranny! the innoxious knows No dread like this, but sleeps in safe repose; Leaves thee thy pomp and power, so dearly bought, And is the happy thing, thou would'st be thought. If e'er since man was born, were known to rest Two adverse natures in one mortal breast, One heart by vice, and one by virtue sway'd, Supreme in him that union was display'd. Or did remorse his former rage controul? Or good Maecenas mollify his soul? The friend, no doubt, and tardy conscience join'd, To humanize at length a savage mind: While labouring to the sovereign rule to rise, Deceit, and fear, and monstrous cruelties, Deform'd his life; that object once attain'd, Wise, just, and good, and merciful he reign'd. Fear was his source of crimes; but when he rose Above his rivals, and secure from foes, When none were left, whom caution could mistrust, His wisdom sound it safest to be just. Intent for ever on one great design, By nature cruel, and by art benign, Soon as his power supreme unquestion'd stood, For thirst of praise he chang'd his thirst of blood. While liberty or law was but a word, And all submitted to the conquering sword, The wavering legions only seem'd to share His kind indulgence, and deserve his care; Rome's wretched citizens, like worthless slaves Were crush'd by fines, or swept to sudden graves: A vase, a villa, or well-featur'd wife, Once his fond boast, now snar'd the owner's life: Blood, guiltless blood, stream'd o'er the reeking plain, And Sylla's murd'rous spirit rang'd again. But when the harrass'd empire breath'd in peace, He bade the soldiers dangerous license cease; And sternly charg'd the leaders to confine Their future rage, by rigid discipline. Restoring thus the civil rights of men, He curb'd the soldier, by the citizen; To the neglected toga then return'd The ravish'd honours it so long had mourn'd; While each the other poiz'd, himself supreme Observ'd the balance, and sustain'd the beam. Wrench'd from its frame the mighty engine see, Once mov'd by fortitude and liberty, Now rolling all its wheels but at the nod Of one great Magus, with the imperial rod. Yet with dissimulation deep he tried, And specious veils, his o'er-grown power to hide; Conspicuous alone in publick care, Plain was his habit, frugal was his fare; His modest dwelling, simple to the sight, Provok'd no envy by its towering height; Nor deck'd with lavish splendour, to make less The shrinking senate's humbled littleness. The Ides of March too fatally made known, That daggers sometimes lurk beneath the gown; And murder'd Caius taught him to beware, And deem it prudence to be popular. No open force, no secret foe can move A throne establish'd in the people's love. Form'd to enjoy what bolder Julius won, Serene, and clear, went down his evening sun: While its meridian lustre chas'd away The clouds of blood that dimm'd its rising ray. Never was power by baser means obtain'd, Never was power more nobly us'd, when gain'd. Time and his genius wore out every fault; Octavius in Augustus was forgot; And with himself compar'd, the people cried, O, would he ne'er had liv'd, or ne'er had died! A monster next exalted to the throne, His sapient sway with double lustre shone. To quit the sole dictatorship he feign'd, But with the prince's name the helm retain'd; Anxiously fond to his concluding hour, By lawful names to sanction lawless power. And could felicity at Rome be known, Freedom's bright ray for ever sunk and gone, So wise, so gentle, was the Augustan reign, Bondage might smile, and almost hug the chain. But not his power, nor gorgeous Titan's beams, Orient and sinking o'er Rome's subject streams; Not all the trophies of the Julian sword, His endless Tribuneship, and name ador'd; Not that his spacious theatres could stow A nation for spectators at a show, Where tawny lions from hot Lybia's sand With bloody fragments strew'd th'impurpled strand; Not that his domes in statelier order rise, Proud arches bend, and columns pierce the skies; Not ALL, such lustre o'er his reign diffuse, As the bright record of the immortal Muse.