Not Ceaseless Falls The Heavy Shower That Drenches Deep The Furrow'D Lea; Nor Do Continual Tempests Pour On The Vex'D [2]Caspian'S Billowy Sea; Nor Yet The Ice, In Silent Horror, Stands Thro' All The Passing Months On Pale [3]Armenia'S Lands. Fierce Storms Do Not For Ever Bend The Mountain'S Vast And Labouring Oak, Nor From The Ash Its Foliage Rend, With Ruthless Whirl, And Widowing Stroke; But, Valgius, Thou, With Grief'S Eternal Lays Mournest Thy Vanish'D Joys In Mystes' Shorten'D Days. When [4]Vesper Trembles In The West, Or Flies Before The Orient Sun, Rise The Lone Sorrows Of Thy Breast. - Not Thus Did Aged Nestor Shun Consoling Strains, Nor Always Sought The Tomb, Where Sunk His [5]Filial Hopes, In Life And Glory'S Bloom. Not Thus, The Lovely Troilus Slain, His Parents Wept The Princely Boy; Nor Thus His Sisters Mourn'D, In Vain, The Blasted Flower Of Sinking Troy; Cease, Then, Thy Fond Complaints! - Augustus' Fame, The New Cesarian Wreaths, Let Thy Lov'D Voice Proclaim! So Shall The Listening World Be Told [6]Medus, And Cold Niphates Guide, With All Their Mighty Realms Controul'D, Their Late Proud Waves In Narrower Tide; That In Scant Space Their Steeds The [7]Scythians Rein, Nor Dare Transgress The Bounds Our Victor Arms Ordain.