All with consenting hearts, and pious fear, The words repeat, the deity revere: The Romans in their holy worship join’d, With silent awe, and purity of mind: Gracious to them, his crest is seen to nod, And, as an earnest of his care, the god, Thrice hissing, vibrates thrice his forked tongue; And now the smooth descent he glides along: Still on the ancient seats he bends his eyes, In which his statue breathes, his altars rise; His long-loved shrine with kind concern he leases, And to forsake the accustom’d mansion grieves: At length his weeping bulk in state is borne Through the throng’d streets, which scatter’d flowers adorn; Through many a fold he winds his mazy course, And gains the port and moles, which break the ocean’s force. ’Twas here he made a stand, and having view’d The pious train, who his last steps pursued, Seem’d to dismiss their zeal with gracious eyes, While gleams of pleasure in his aspect rise.