A thousand cups to midwife this new birth,
With inoffensive mirth.
No State-affairs near my Maecenas come,
Since all are fall'n that fought victorious Rome.
By civil broils the Medes, our foes, will fall.
20The weakest to the wall.
Our fierce and ancient enemy of Spain
Is now subdu'd, and tamely bears our chain.
The savage Scythian too begins to yield,
About to quit the field.