When Caesar's self in peaceful townThe weary veteran's home has made,You bid him lay his helmet downAnd rest in your Pierian shade.Mild thoughts you plant, and joy to seeMild thoughts take root. The nations knowHow with descending thunder heThe impious Titans hurl'd below,Who rules dull earth and stormy seas,And towns of men, and realms of pain,And gods, and mortal companies,Alone, impartial in his reign.Yet Jove had fear'd the giant rush,Their upraised arms, their port of pride,And the twin brethren bent to pushHuge Pelion up Olympus' side.But Typhon, Mimas, what could these,Or what Porphyrion's stalwart scorn,Rhoetus, or he whose spears were trees,Enceladus, from earth uptorn,