'Yes, I'll forgive, for Mars's sake,
The boy, and he shall reign
In bright abodes of bliss, and slake
His thirst, and nectar drain;
And then among the gods shall be
Enrolled, from strife and trouble free.

So long as broad and angry seas,
Shall rage 'twixt Troy and Rome,

Troy's sons may reign where'er they please,

But exiled from their home;

So long as cattle wander by

Where Priam and where Paris lie,

'And safely by their tombstone's side Fierce wolves their cubs conceal,

The Capitol in all its pride,

Its glories shall reveal ;

And Rome ti stern decrees dictate,

And teach to conquered Medes their fate.

'Her name the nations far and wide,

In terror shall adore ;

There where the rolling war es divide
From Afric Europe's shore;
Where rising Nile through Egypt flows,
And floods the meadows as he goes.

'The gold that lies concealed in earth,

And has no better place,

More prompt is she to spurn its worth,
Than turn to uses base;

And yield to sacrilegious hand

What mortals eagerly demand.

'Where'er the world's far confines spread

Her soldiers shall be found;

Where tropic suns their splendour shed,
Where cloud and rain abound;
Lands wet or dry, or hot or cold,
Her dauntless sons shall all behold.

'Of warlike Rome I sing the praise,
And future fame unfold ;
Lest haply some in after days,

Too pious or too bold,

Should seek from ancient dust once more

Troy's mouldering ruins to restore.

'Should Troy arise again, the same

Dark Fortune shall attend; Her second lot begin in shame, And in destruction end;

For I, Jove's sister and his wife,

Will head the troops and guide the strife.

'Should Phoebus thrice rebuild the wall,

The mighty wall of brass,

Thrice o'er his work (it thrice shall fall),

My Argive hosts shall pass;

And thrice the ravished matron mourn, From husband and from children torn.'

But, ah! these themes ill suit my lyreMuse, stay thy soaring wing! "Tis playful fancies best inspire

My lute and simple string;

Cease to recount how gods debate,
And in poor verse to hymn the great.

IV.

TO CALLIOPE.

From heaven, Calliope, come down,
And raise a thrilling song of joy ;
Take Phoebus' lyre, or else thy own
Soft voice, sweet queen, in song employ.

Lists she? or am I still the prey

Of fancies vain? Methinks I hear, Through sacred groves her footsteps stray, Where gales blow mild and streams run clear.

Once as on Vultur's height I lay,

Beyond Apulia's fostering bound,

A boy asleep, fatigued by play,

Doves o'er my limbs strewed leaves around.

All marvelled at the wondrous deed,
O'er Acherontia's steep who toil;
And they who till fair Bantia's mead,
And low Ferentum's fertile soil :

How safe from serpent's bite that day

I slept, and bears that roamed the wild, Covered with myrtle boughs and bay,

Dear to the gods, a dauntless child.

Yours, O ye Muses sweet, I scale

The lofty Sabine heights and yours, Præneste cool or Tibur's vale

I visit, and bright Baiæ's shores.

Fond of

your founts and dances free,

Safe from Philippi's rout I fled; Shipwreck escaped, and that vile tree

That falling missed my slumbering head.

If ye will bear me company,

O'er foaming Bosphorus I'll sail, And wander by the sands that lie Parching in Syria's torrid vale.

Britain's fierce sons unharmed I'll face,
Spaniards whose drink is horse's blood;
The quiver-carrying Scythian race

I'll see, and Tanais' famous flood.

Cæsar's great soul ye oft enthrall,

Longing for rest, with soothing strains;

When peacefully his forces all

He quarters, tired of far campaigns.

Counsel ye give, and gladly, too,

Ye proffer kind advice; we know How wicked giants and their crew

He with his thunderbolts laid low,

He who o'er earth and stormy sea,
And cities bears impartial sway;
Whom Pluto's gloomy monarchy,

And gods, and men, alike obey.

What terrors did they not in Jove

Inspire, those youths with weapons dread;

The brothers, too, who madly strove,

Pelion to pile on Ossa's head!

But what availed Typhoeus strong,
Mimas or what Porphyrion's threat,
Rhoetus, or he of boasting tongue,
Enceladus, who trees upset?

How could they charge the sounding shield
Of Pallas? On one side the fray
Stood Vulcan keen, here took the field,
Juno, and he who ne'er will lay

His bow aside, whose flowing locks
Are laved in Castaly's pure flood,
Who haunts his native Lycia's rocks,
Of Delos fair and Patara god.

Strength without skill falls by its weight; Strength tempered gods increase in time

To greater feats; but those they hate,
Who seek by strength to compass crime.

Let hundred-handed Gyas prove
My words; Orion, too, I cite,
Who sought to gain chaste Dian's love,
And fell subdued by virgin might.

Earth o'er her giants piled groans sore, And wails her offsprings' fate who pass,

By lightning slain to Pluto's shore,

But flames consume not Etna's mass.

From vulture's lust-avenging beak

Fierce Tityus' liver ne'er is free;

Pirithous too will vainly seek

From his three hundred chains to flee.