The world’s great mistress, Rome, receives him now; On the mast’s top reclined he waves his brow, And from that height surveys the great abodes, And mansions, worthy of residing gods. The land, a narrow neck, itself extends, Round which his course the stream divided bends; The stream’s two arms, on either side, are seen, Stretch’d out in equal length; the land between. The isle, so call’d, from hence derives its name: ’Twas here the salutary serpent came; Nor sooner has he left the Latian pine, But he assumes again his form divine, And now no more the drooping city mourns, Joy is again restored, and health returns.
Venus, unable to arrest the impending death of Julius Cesar, procures his admission into the celestial mansions.