So, though the eastern tempests loudly threatHesperia's main, may green Venusia's crownBe stripp'd, while you lie warm; may blessings yetStream from Tarentum's guard, great Neptune, down,And gracious Jove, into your open lap!What! shrink you not from crime whose punishmentFalls on your innocent children? it may hapImperious Fate will make yourself repent.My prayers shall reach the avengers of all wrong;No expiations shall the curse unbind.Great though your haste, I would not task you long;Thrice sprinkle dust, then scud before the wind.Your heart on Arab wealth is set,Good Iccius: you would try your steelOn Saba's kings, unconquerd yet,And make the Mede your fetters feel.Come, tell me what barbarian fairWill serve you now, her bridegroom slain?What page from court with essenced hairWill tender you the bowl you drain,