Great Capitolian Jove! thou God, to whom,
Our Cæsar owes that bliss, he sheds on Rome!
While prostrate crowds thy daily bounty tire,
And all thy blessings, for themselves, desire:
Accuse me not of pride, that I, alone,
Put up no pray'r, that may be call'd my own:
For Cæsar 's wants, O Jove! I sue to thee,
Cæsar himself can grant what's fit for me.