——What we hear,

With slower passion to the heart proceeds,

Than when an audience views the very deeds.

Francis.

The business of the drama must appear in action or description.

Francis.

Like a youthful tree, of growth

Insensible, high shoots his spreading fame.

Francis.

——to the woods the wanton hies,

And wishes to be seen before she flies.

Dryden.

At length he founded Padua’s happy seat.

Dryden.

Where Aponus first springs in smoky steam,

And full Timavus rolls his nobler stream;

Upon a hill that day, if same be true,

A learned Augur sat the skies to view:

’Tis come, the great event is come (he cry’d)!

Our impious chiefs their wicked war decide.

Rowe.

Whence bull-faced Po adorned with gilded horns,

Than whom no river, thro’ such level meads,

Down to the sea with swifter torrents speeds.

Warton.

Three brothers, the sons of Maria Theresa, Queen of Bohemia and Hungary, all of them distinguished by their virtues, and worthy of so illustrious a mother, were entertained at this inn, viz. Maximilian Arch-Duke of Austria, who actually supped and passed the night here, on the 30th of May, 1775.

Peter Leopold Grand Duke of Tuscany, and the Emperor Joseph the Second, the ornament and glory of the age, who dined here the following day.

That such important events may not be lost in the flight of time, let this durable monument inform the latest posterity of the happiness which this inn enjoyed.

The leader now had passed the torrent o’er,

And reached fair Italy’s forbidden shore:

Then rearing on the hostile bank his head,

Here, farewell peace and injured laws (he said)!

Since faith is broke, and leagues are set aside,

Henceforth thou, goddess Fortune, art my guide.

Let fate and war the great event decide.

He spoke; and, on the dreadful task intent,

Speedy to near Ariminum he bent;

To him the Balearic sling is slow,

And the shaft loiters from the Parthian bow.

Rowe.

How much the grandeur of thy rising state

Owes to the Neros, Rome imperial! say,

Witness Metaurus, and the dismal fate

Of vanquished Asdrubal, and that glad day

Which first, auspicious, as the darkness fled,

O’er Latium’s face a tide of glory shed.

Through wide Hesperia’s tow’ring cities, crush’d

With hideous fall and desolation dire,

Impetuous, wild the Carthaginian rush’d;

As through the pitchy pines destructive fire

Devours its course, or howling Eurus raves,

And posting sweeps the mad Sicilian waves.

Francis.

Hence the fam’d Latian line, and senates come,

And the proud triumphs, and the tow’rs of Rome.

Pitt.

This triumph, this, on Libya’s utmost bound,

With death and desolation compassed round,

To all thy glories, Pompey, I prefer,

Thy trophies, and thy third triumphal car;

To Marius’ mighty name, and great Jugurthine war.

Rowe.

What tongue, just Cato, can thy praise forbear!

Or each brave Scipio’s noble deeds declare?

Afric’s dread foes; two thunderbolts of war!

Pitt.

Secure in his retreat Vejanius lies;

Hangs up his arms, nor courts the doubtful prize;

Wisely resolved to tempt his fate no more,

Or the light croud for his discharge implore.

Francis.

——every moment grows,

And gains new strength and vigour as it goes.

Pitt.

My fame ———— shall bloom,

And with unfading youth improve,

While to th’ immortal fane of Jove

The vestal maids, in silent state

Ascending, on the Pontiff wait.

Francis.

Hail, happy pair! if fame our verse can give,

From age to age your memory shall live;

Long as th’ imperial Capitol shall stand,

Or Rome’s majestic Lord the conquer’d world command!

Pitt.

Why does he hate the sunny plain,

While he can sun or dust sustain?

Or why no more, with martial pride,

Amidst the youthful battle ride,

And the fierce Gallic steed command,

With bitted curb, and forming hand?

Why does he fear the yellow flood?

Francis.

Thus they conversed on works of ancient fame,

Till to the monarch’s humble courts they came;

There oxen stalk’d, where palaces are raised,

And bellowing herds in the proud Forum graz’d.

Pitt.