The prediction above alluded to is contained in the closing lines of the “Metamorphoses,” of which we give a literal translation below:
“And now I close my work, which not the ire
Of Jove, nor tooth of time, nor sword, nor fire
Shall bring to nought. Come when it will that day
Which o’er the body, not the mind, has sway,
And snatch the remnant of my life away,
My better part above the stars shall soar,
And my renown endure forevermore.
Where’er the Roman arms and arts shall spread,
There by the people shall my book be read;