And musters evils o’er their sinful heads.
She with the dark of air her form arrays
And [56]walks in awful grief the city-ways:
Her wail is heard, her tear upbraiding falls
[57]O’er their stain’d manners, their devoted walls.
But they who never from the right have stray’d,
Who as the citizen the stranger aid;
[58]They and their cities flourish: genial Peace
Dwells in their borders, and their youth increase:
Nor Jove, whose radiant eyes behold afar,