_Annunciant ritus, quos non licet nobis suscipere, cum simus Romani._
Act. xvi. 21.
Hoc Caesar tibi, Roma, tuus dedit, armaque? solis
Romanis igitur non licet esse piis?
Ah, melius, tragicis nullus tibi Caesar in armis
Altus anhelanti detonuisset equo;
Nec domini volucris facies horrenda per orbem
Sueta tibi in signis torva venire tuis:
Quam miser ut staret de te tibi, Roma, triumphus,
Ut tanta fieres ambitione nihil.
Non tibi, sed sceleri vincis: proh laurea tristis,
Laurea, Cerbereis aptior umbra comis.
Tam turpi vix ipse pater diademate Pluto,
Vix sedet ipse suo tam niger in solio.
De tot Caesareis redit hoc tibi, Roma, triumphis:
Caesaree, aut, quod idem est, egregie misera es.
_They teach customs which are not lawful for us to receive, neither to
observe, being Romans._
Rome, have thy Caesar's arms wrought this for thee,
That Romans only may not Christians be?
Better for thee no Caesar had waged war,
High-thundering on his fiery steed afar;
Nor eagle's lordly form o'er all the world
Had aye on thy stern ensigns been unfurl'd.
How poor a triumph, Rome, o'er thyself wrought,
By dint of such ambition to be--nought!
Conquering for sin, not Rome; sad laurel-wreath,
More fit to shadow Cerberus' locks beneath.
Old Pluto scarce wears diadem so base,
Sits scarce so swart enthron'd in his own place.
Caesarean triumphs, Rome, win this for thee--
Caesarean, that is, highest misery. R. WI.