[63]Pours down the treasures of felicity.

Who sins against the right, his wilful tongue

With perjuries of lying witness hung;

Lo! he is hurt beyond the hope of cure:

Dark is his race, nor shall his name endure.

Who fears his oath shall leave a name to shine

With brightening lustre through his latest line.

Most foolish Perses! let the truths I tell,

Which spring from knowledge, in thy bosom dwell:

Lo! wickednesses rife in troops appear;