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Within the mighty Neptune's fane,
Who snatch'd me, dripping, from the main.

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Suspendisse potenti

Vestimenta maris deo.

PART OF A CHORUS IN. SENECA'S TRAGEDY OF THYESTES.

'Tis not wealth that makes a king,
Nor the purple's colouring,
Nor a brow that's bound with gold,
Nor gates on mighty hinges rolled.

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Who can tread ambition down,
Nor be sway'd by smile or frown;
Nor for all the treasure cares,
That mine conceals, or harvest wears,
Or that golden sands deliver,
Bosom'd in a glassy river.

What shall move his placid might?
Not the headlong thunderlight,

Quem non ambitio impotens,
Et nunquam stabilis favor
Vulgi præcipitis movet.
Non quidquid fodit occidens ;
Aut unda Taguš aurea
Claro devehit alveo;
Non quidquid Libycis terit
Fervens area messibus.

Quem non concutiet cadens
Obliqui via fulminis,

Nor the storm that rụshes out
To snatch the shivering waves about,
Nor all the shapes of slaughter's trade
With forward lance or fiery blade,
Safe with wisdom for his crown,
He looks on all things calmly down;
He welcomes fate, when fate is near,
Nor taints his dying breath with fear.

Grant that all the kings assemble, At whose tread the Scythians tremble,

Non Eurus rapiens mare,
Aut sævo rabidus freto
Ventosi tumor Adriæ ;
Quem non lancea militis,
Non strictus domuit chalybs ;
Qui tuto positus loco,
Infra se vidit omnia;
Occurritque suo libens
Fato, nec queritur mori.

Reges conveniant licet,
Qui sparsos agitant Dahas,

Grant that in the train be they,
Whom the Red-Sea shores obey,
Where the gems and chrystal caves
Sparkle up through purple waves ;
Bring with these the Caspian stout,
Who scorns to shut th' invader out,
And the daring race that tread
The rocking of the Danube's bed,
With those again, where'er they be,
Who, lapp'd in silken luxury,

Qui rubri vada litoris,
Et gemmis mare lucidum
Late sanguineum tenent;
Aut qui Caspia fortibus
Recludunt juga Sarmatis ;
Certet, Danubii vadum
Audet qui pedes ingredi; "
Et quocunque loco jacent:

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