Hush'd is the war our strife made long:I welcome now, my hatred o'er,A grandson in the child of wrong,Him whom the Trojan priestess bore.Receive him, Mars! the gates of flameMay open: let him taste forgivenThe nectar, and enrol his nameAmong the peaceful ranks of Heaven.Let the wide waters sever stillIlium and Rome, the exiled raceMay reign and prosper where they will:So but in Paris' burial-placeThe cattle sport, the wild beasts hideTheir cubs, the Capitol may standAll bright, and Rome in warlike prideO'er Media stretch a conqueror's hand.Aye, let her scatter far and wideHer terror, where tbe land-lock'd wavesEurope from Afric's shore divide,Where swelling Nile the corn-field laves—