Now from his chase imperial lions fly,
And now he stakes a princedom on a die.
What would he more? The consecrated game
Of murder must transmit his epic name,
Some empire tempts him; at his stern command,
An armed cloud hails iron o'er the land.
Earth thunders underneath the pondrous tread,
Son slaughters sire, the dying stab the dead.
The vallies roar, that loved a warbling mood,
Their mutilated lilies float on blood;