Let civil Rome, from faithful records, tell
What royal blessings from her Nero fell.
When those, prefer'd all grievance to redress,
Bought of their prince a licence to oppress;
When uncorupted merit found no place,
But left the trade of honour to the base.
See industry, by draining impost curst,
Starve in the harvest, in the vintage thirst!
In vain for help th' insulted matron cries,
'Twas death in husbands to have ears and eyes:
Fatal were beauty, virtue, wealth, or fame:
No man in aught a property could claim;
No, not his sex: strange arts the monster try'd;
And Sporus, spight of nature, was his bride.
Unhurt by foes proud Rome for ages stands,
Secure from all, but her protector's hands.
Recall your pow'rs, ye Romans, back again;
Unmake the monarch, and ne'er fear the man.
Naked and scorn'd, see where the abject flies!
And once un-caesar'd, soon the fidler dies.