Then rising in his might, the King of Floods
Rush’d thro’ the forests, tore the lofty woods;
And, rolling onward, with a sweepy sway,
Bore houses, herds, and labouring hinds away.
Rising in his might is happy, but the rest is not so simple as the original, and much less expressive; there wants the insano contorquens vortice sylvas.
It is not surprising that the Po is so much celebrated by the Roman poets, since it is, unquestionably, the finest river in Italy.—
Where every stream in heavenly numbers flows.
It seems to have been the favourite river of Virgil:
Gemina auratus taurino cornua vultu