Not even the four first lines are without their difficulties, in which
the time of the discovery of the stone seems to be the time assigned for
the events foretold by it:
"Cum lapidem hunc, magni
Qui nunc jacet incola stagni,
Vel pede equus tanget,
Vel arator vomere franget,
Sentiet aegra metus,
Effundet patria fletus,
Littoraque ut fluctu,
Resonabunt oppida luctu."
"Whene'er this stone, now hid beneath the lake,
The horse shall trample, or the plough shall break,
Then, O my country, shall thou groan distrest,
Grief in thine eyes, and terrour in thy breast.
Thy streets with violence of woe shall sound,
Loud as the billows bursting on the ground."
"When this stone," says he, "which now lies hid beneath the waters of a
deep lake, shall be struck upon by the horse, or broken by the plough,
then shalt thou, my country, be astonished with terrours, and drowned in
tears; then shall thy towns sound with lamentations, as thy shores with
the roarings of the waves." These are the words literally rendered, but
how are they verified! The lake is dry, the stone is turned up, but
there is no appearance of this dismal scene. Is not all, at home,
satisfaction and tranquillity? all, abroad, submission and compliance?
Is it the interest, or inclination, of any prince, or state, to draw a
sword against us? and are we not, nevertheless, secured by a numerous
standing army, and a king who is, himself, an army? Have our troops any
other employment than to march to a review? Have our fleets encountered
any thing but winds and worms? To me the present state of the nation
seems so far from any resemblance to the noise and agitation of a
tempestuous sea, that it may be much more properly compared to the dead
stillness of the waves before a storm.
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