“Cancel your pious cares; already he Has paid his debt to justice and to me; Yet what his crimes, and what my judgments were, Remains for me thus briefly to declare. The clamours of this vile degenerate age, The cries of orphans, and the oppressor’s rage, Had reach’d the stars: ‘I will descend,’ said I, ‘In hope to prove this loud complaint a lie.’ Disguised in human shape I travell’d round The world, and more than what I heard I found. O’er Maenalus I took my steepy way, By caverns infamous for beasts of prey; Then cross’d Syllene, and the piny shade More infamous, by cursed Lycaon made: Dark night had cover’d heaven and earth before I enter’d his inhospitable door. Just at my entrance, I display’d the sign That somewhat was approaching of divine: The prostrate people pray, the tyrant grins, And adding profanation to his sins, ‘I’ll try,’ said he, ‘and if a god appear, To prove his deity shall cost him dear.’ ’Twas late, the graceless wretch my death prepares, When I should soundly sleep, oppress’d with cares: