rear of night,
    Before the golden wheels of orient light
    He came.  But who the tendant pomp can tell,
    What mighty master of the corded shell
    Can sing how heaven above accordant smiled,
    And what bright pageantry the prospect fill’d. 
    I look’d, but all in vain:  the potent ray
    Flash’d on my sight intolerable day
    At first; but to the splendour soon inured,
    My eyes perused the pomp with sight assured. 
    True dignity in every face was seen,
    As on they march’d with more than mortal mien;
    And some I saw whom Love had link’d before,
    Ennobled now by Virtue’s lofty lore. 
    Caesar and Scipio on the dexter hand
    Of the bright goddess led the laurell’d band. 
    One, like a planet by the lord of day,
    Seem’d o’er-illumined by her splendid ray,
    By brightness hid; for he, to virtue true,
    His mind from Love’s soft bondage nobly drew. 
    The other, half a slave to female charms,
    Parted his homage to the god of arms
    And Love’s seductive power:  but, close and deep,
    Like files that climb’d the Capitolian steep
    In years of yore, along the sacred way
    A martial squadron came in long array. 
    In ranges as they moved distinct and bright,
    On every burganet that met the light,
    Some name of long renown, distinctly read,
    O’er each majestic brow a glory shed. 
    Still on the noble pair my eyes I bent,
    And watch’d their progress up the steep ascent. 
    The second Scipio next in line was seen,
    And he that seem’d the lure of Egypt’s queen;
    With many a mighty chief I there beheld,
    Whose valorous hand the battle’s storm repell’d. 
    Two fathers of the great Cornelian name,
    With their three noble sons who shared their fame,
    One singly march’d before, and, hand in hand,
    His two heroic partners trod the strand. 
    The last was first in fame; but brighter beams
    His follower flung around in solar streams. 
    Metaurus’ champion, whom the moon beheld,
    When his resistless spears the current swell’d
    With Libya’s hated gore, in arms renown’d
    Was he, nor less with Wisdom’s olive crown’d. 
    Quick was his thought and ready was his hand,
    His power accomplish’d what his reason plann’d;
    He seem’d, with eagle eye and eagle wing,
    Sudden on his predestined game to spring. 
    But he that follow’d next with step sedate
    Drew round his foe the viewless snare of fate;
    While, with consummate art, he kept at bay
    The raging foe, and conquer’d by delay. 
    Another Fabius join’d the stoic pair,
    The Pauli and Marcelli famed in war;
    With them the victor in the friendly strife,
    Whose public virtue quench’d his love of life. 
    With either Brutus ancient Curius came;
    Fabricius, too, I spied, a