Shall to the light new shapes of terror bring,
Let them make haste to come, whate'er they be,35
While still the earth beholds her Hercules.
For who will e'er again these fearsome things
Attack, or who, throughout the towns of Greece,
Will e'er be worthy of great Juno's hate?
In truth, my praises have I safe bestowed,
Since now there is no land but sings of me.
The Scythian, dwelling in the frozen North,40
The Indian, smitten by the burning rays