nonour. ACERONIA. Thro' various life I have pursued your st Have seen your soul, and wonder'd at its Hence rise my fears. Nor am I yet to le How vast the debt of gratitude which Ne To such a mother owes; the world, you ga Suffices not to pay the obligation. I well remember too (for I was present When in a secret and dead hour of night, Due sacrifice perform'd with barb'rous rit Of mutter'd charms, and solemn invocati You bade the Magi call the dreadful powe That read futurity, to know the fate Impending o'er your son: Their answer If the son reign the mother perishes. heights, and grasp ACERONIA. The sweets of kindness lavishly in Fe I have pursued your steps soul, and wonder'd at its dari ears. Nor am I yet to learn ot of gratitude which Nero owes; the world, you gave y the obligation. er too (for I was present) and dead hour of night, Form'd with barb'rous rites ns, and solemn invocation, i call the dreadful powers, to know the fate ur son: Their answer was, mother perishes. AGRIPPINA. Thus ever grave and undisturb'd r I his mighty Emperor, this dreaded Hero ACERONIA. Did I not wish to check this dangerous pa I might remind my mistress that her nod atoms-tell me! say nperor, this dreaded Hero, he glittering front of war? ar the trumpet's thrilling vo le battle? Have his limbs harness? Is he not f dalliance, nurs'd in Ease Owery lap?-Rubellius lives, friends, tho' school'd by fear e knee, and court the times r obeisance; and a call, erve belike to wake pretens rs, who boast the genuine blo Mark'd for their leader: These, by Ha! by Juno, AGRIPPINA. On th It bears a noble semblance. And shake 'em at the name of liberty, Stung by a senseless word, a vain traditi As there were magic in it? Wrinkled b Teach it their grandchildren, as somewh That anciently appear'd, but when, exte Beyond their chronicle-oh! 'tis a caus To arm the hand of childhood, and rebi The slacken'd sinews of time-wearied ag Yes, we may meet, ungrateful boy, w Again the buried genius of old Rome Shall from the dust uprear his reverend Rous'd by the shout of millions: There His high tribunal thou and I appear. Let majesty sit on thy awful brow, And lighten from thy eye: Around thee The gilded swarm that wantons in the su |