Let the mechanics to Minerva vow,Rustics to Ceres, and to Bacchus bow;Whilst I devote myself to thee alone,Kind Venus, and the pow'rful god thy son;0 be propitious to my enterprize,Inform with all thy softness these fair eyes,And to love's cause her gentle breast incline;She grants, and has contriv'd it with a sign;Do you assure it too, you who're to me(With Venus' leave) the mightier deity,By all these heavenly witnesses' to youWill I be ever faithful, ever true.Now ib the open cirque the game's begun,The praetor gives the signal, now they run;I see which way your wishes are inclin'd,To him a certain conquest is design'd;For e'en the horses seem to know your mind.He takes too large a compass to come in,And lets his adversary get between;Recall him, Romans, for a second heat,