ODES.

BOOK III.

ODE I.

[For the first Strophe of this Ode, see the Secular Ode.]
MONARCHS on earth their power extend,
Monarchs to Jove submissive bend,
And own the sovereign god,
With glorious triumph who subdued
The Titan race, gigantic brood!

And shakes whole nature with his nod.

When rival candidates contend,
And to the field of Mars descend,
To urge the' ambitious claim;
Some of illustrious birth are proud,
Some of their clients' vassal crowd,
And some of virtue's fame.

Others the rural labour love,

And joy to plant the spreading grove,
The furrow'd glebe to turn;
Yet with impartial hand shall Fate
Both of the lowly and the great

Shake the capacious urn.

Behold the wretch, with conscious dread,
In pointed vengeance o'er his head
Who views the' impending sword;
Nor dainties force his pall'd desire,
Nor chant of birds, nor vocal lyre,
To him can sleep afford;

Heart-soothing sleep, which not disdains
The rural cot, and humble swains,
And shady river fair;

Or Tempè's ever blooming spring,
Where zephyrs wave the balmy wing,
And fan the buxom air.

Who nature's frugal dictates hears,
He nor the raging ocean fears,
Nor stars of power malign,
Whether in gloomy storms they rise,
Or swift descending through the skies
With angry lustre shine;

Whether his vines be smit with hail,
Whether his promised harvests fail,
Perfidious to his toil;

Whether his drooping trees complain
Of angry winter's chilling rain,
Or stars that burn the soil.

Not such the haughty lord, who lays
His deep foundations in the seas,

And scorns earth's narrow bound;
The fish affrighted feel their waves
Contracted by his numerous slaves,
E'en in the vast profound.

High though his structures rise in air,
Threatening remorse and black despair
This haughty lord shall find
O'ertake his armed galley's speed;
And when he mounts the flying steed,
Sits gloomy Care behind.

If purple, which the morn outshines,
Or marble from the Phrygian mines,

Though labour'd high with art;
If essence, breathing sweets divine,
Or flowing bowls of generous wine,
Ill sooth an anxious heart;

On columns, raised in modern style,
Why should I plan the lofty pile
To rise with envied state?
Why, for a vain, superfluous store,
Which would encumber me the more,
Resign my Sabine seat?

II.

TO HIS FRIENDS.

OUR hardy youth should learn to bear
Sharp want, to rein the warlike steed,
To hurl the well directed spear

With pointed force, and bid the Parthian bleed.

Thus form'd in war's tumultuous trade

Through summer's heat, and winter's cold, Some tyrant's queen, or blooming maid,

Shall from her walls the martial youth behold,

Deep-sighing lest her royal spouse,

Untaught the deathful sword to wield, That lion, in his wrath, should rouse,

Whom furious rage drives through the' ensan

guined field.

What joys, what glories round him wait,
Who bravely for his country dies!
While, with dishonest wounds, shall Fate
Relentless stab the coward as he flies.

With stainless lustre virtue shines,

A base repulse nor knows nor fears; Asserts her honours, nor declines,

As the light air of crowds uncertain veers;

To him, who not deserves to die,

She shows the paths which heroes trod;
Then bids him boldly tempt the sky,
Spurn off his mortal clay, and rise a god,

To silence due rewards we give;

And they, who mysteries reveal, Beneath my roof shall never live,

Shall never hoist with me the doubtful sail.

When Jove in anger strikes the blow,
Oft with the bad the righteous bleed:
Yet with sure steps, though lame and slow,
Vengeance o'ertakes the trembling villain's
speed.

III,

[This noble Ode has been supposed to have been written by the poet, at the instigation of Macenas, to dissnade Augustus from a plan he had, of removing the seat of empire from Rome to Troy, or its vicinity. The same object is also obvious in Virgil's Aneis. Maecenas did not do this from superstitious but political motives; and the justice of that policy was confirmed by the consequence of the subsequent removal to the vicinity of Troy, by Constantine.]

THE man, in conscious virtue bold, Who dares his secret purpose hold, Unshaken hears the crowd's tumultuous cries, And the impetuous tyrant's angry brow defies.

Let the loud winds, that rule the seas,
Tempestuous their wild horrors raise;

Let Jove's dread arm with thunders rend the spheres,

Beneath the crush of worlds undaunted he appears.

Thus to the flamy towers above,

[lies,

The wandering hero, son of Jove, Upsoar'd with strength his own, where Cæsar

And quaffs, with glowing lips, the bowl's immortal

joys.

Lyæus thus his tigers broke,

Fierce and indocile, to the yoke;

Thus from the gloomy regions of the dead, On his paternal steeds Rome's mighty founder fled;

When heaven's great queen, with words benign,

Address'd the' assembled powers divineTroy, hated Troy, an umpire lewd, unjust, And a proud foreign dame, have sunk thee to the dust.

To me,

and wisdom's queen decreed,

With all thy guilty race to bleed,

What time thy haughty monarch's perjured sire Mock'd the defrauded gods, and robb'd them of their hire.

The gaudy guest, of impious fame,

No more enjoys the' adulterous dame; Hector no more his faithless brothers leads To break the Grecian force; no more the victor bleeds.