A smoke
Mysterical PoemThe last great age, foretold by sacred rhymes, Renews its finish’d course; Saturnian times Roll round again, and mighty years, begun From their first orb, in radiant circles run. The base degenerate iron offspring ends; A golden progeny from heav’n descends: O chaste Lucina, speed the mother’s pains; And haste the glorious birth; thy own Apollo reigns! The lovely boy, with his auspicious face, Shall Pollio’s consulship and triumph grace; Majestic months set out with him to their appointed race. The father banish’d virtue shall restore, And crimes shall threat the guilty wMysterical Poem
Chris
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