Prophetic wish! — See Discord flies,
With all her rebel rout, her hell-born train!
See Faction falls, and Party dies,
They die fell serpents, in his dawning reign:
Thus sure presage of many a glorious deed,
Blest omen of immortal fame,
The Son of Jove, when near his infant head
Devouring snakes in poisonous volumes came,
Grasp'd in his brawny arms the scaly foes,
Smil'd on the danger past, and sunk to soft repose.