Heaped for the burning. This thy province. I
In feats of Mars conspicuous will not fail
To plant this city ’fore all eyes triumphant.
STROPHE I.
Chorus.
Pallas, thy welcome so kindly compelling
Hath moved me; I scorn not to mingle my dwelling
With thine, and with Jove’s, the all-ruling, thy sire.
The city I scorn not, where Mars guards the portals,
The fortress of gods,[n56] the fair grace of Immortals.
I bless thee prophetic; to work thy desire