THE ORACLE.

THE MUTINY.

THE STORM Thus had the smiles of Fortune and her frowns Brought either chief to Macedonian shores Still equal to his foe.

From cooler skies Sank Atlas' (1) daughters down, and Haemus' slopes Were white with winter, and the day drew nigh Devoted to the god who leads the months, And marking with new names the book of Rome, When came the Fathers from their distant posts By both the Consuls to Epirus called (2) Ere yet the year was dead: a foreign land Obscure received the magistrates of Rome, And heard their high debate.

No warlike camp This; for the Consul's and the Praetor's axe Proclaimed the Senate-house; and Magnus sat One among many, and the state was all.
When all were silent, from his lofty seat Thus Lentulus began, while stern and sad The Fathers listened: "If your hearts still beat With Latian blood, and if within your breasts Still lives your fathers' vigour, look not now On this strange land that holds us, nor enquire Your distance from the captured city: yours This proud assembly, yours the high command In all that comes.