Act. xii. 23.
Euge, Deus—pleno populus fremit undique plausu—
Certe non hominem vox sonat, euge, Deus!
Sed tamen iste Deus qui sit, vos dicite, vermes,
Intima turba illi; vos fovet ille sinu.
Herod devoured of worms.
Behold a god! full-voic'd the people cry;
Not man, but god, with shouts they him attest.
What kind of god he is, ye worms, reply—
A crowd that know the secrets of his breast. G.
VII.
Bonum est nobis esse hic.
Cur cupis hic adeo, dormitor Petre, manere?
Somnia non alibi tam bona, Petre, vides.
It is good to be here.
Why seek'st thou, drowsy Peter, here to stay?
Elsewhere such pleasant dreams thou see'st not, eh?[88] G.