UNHAPPY vessel! shall the waves again
Tumultuous bear thee to the faithless main?
What would thy madness, thus with storms to sport?
Cast firm your anchor in the friendly port.
Behold thy naked decks; the wounded mast
And sail-yards groan beneath the southern blast,
Nor without ropes thy keel can longer brave
The rushing fury of th' imperious wave:
Torn are thy sails, thy guardian gods are lost,
Whom you might call in future tempests tost.
What though majestic in your pride you stood
A noble daughter of the Pontic wood,
You now may vainly boast an empty name,
Or birth conspicuous in the rolls of fame.
The mariner, when storms around him rise,
No longer on a painted stern relies.
Ah! yet take heed, lest these new tempests sweep
In sportive rage thy glories to the deep.
Thou late my deep anxiety and fear,
And now my fond desire and tender care,
Ah! yet take heed, avoid those fatal seas
That roll among the shining Cyclades.
WHEN the perfidious shepherd bore
The Spartan dame to Asia's shore, Nereus the rapid winds oppress'd, And calm'd them to unwilling rest, That he might sing the dreadful fate Which should their guilty loves await. Fatal to Priam's ancient sway You bear th'ill-omen'd fair away; For soon shall Greece in arms arise, Deep-sworn to break thy nuptial ties. What toils do men and horse sustain! What carnage loads the Dardan plain! Pallas prepares the bounding car, The shield and helm and rage of war.
Though proud of Venus' guardian care,
In vain you comb your flowing hair;
In vain you sweep th' unwarlike string,
And tender airs to females sing;
For though the dart may harmless prove
(The dart that frights the bed of love);
Though you escape the noise of fight,
Nor Ajax can o'ertake thy flight;
Yet shalt thou, infamous of lust,
Soil those adulterous hairs in dust.
Look back and see, with furious pace,
That ruin of the Trojan race,
Ulysses drives, and sage in years
Fam'd Nestor, hoary chief, appears.
Intrepid Teucer sweeps the field,
And Sthenelus, in battle skill'd;
Or skill'd to guide with steady rein,
And pour his chariot o'er the plain.
Undaunted Merion shalt thou feel;
While Diomed with furious steel,
In arms superior to his sire,
Burns after thee with martial fire.
As when a stag at distance spies
A prowling wolf, aghast he flies
Of pasture heedless; so shall you,
High-panting, fly when they pursue.
Not such the promises you made,
Which Helen's easy heart betray'd.
Achilles' fleet with short delay
Vengeful protracts the fatal day;
But when ten rolling years expire,
Thy Troy shall blaze in Grecian fire.
ODE XVI.
TO TYNDARIS
Pali
DAUGHTER, whose loveliness the bosom warms
More than thy lovely mother's riper charms,
Give to my bold lampoons what fate you please,
To wasting flames condemn'd, or angry seas.
But yet remember, nor the god of wine,
Nor Pythian Phoebus from his inmost shrine,
Nor Dindymene, nor her priests possest,
Can with their sounding cymbals shake the breast
Like furious anger in its gloomy vein,
Which neither temper'd sword, nor raging main,
Nor fire wide-wasting, nor tremendous Jove
Rushing in baleful thunders from above,
Can tame to fear. Thus sings the poet's lay-
Prometheus to inform his nobler clay
Their various passions chose from ev'ry beast,
And with the lion's rage inspir'd the human breast.
From anger all the tragic horrors rose,
That crush'd Thyestes with a weight of woes;
From hence proud cities date their utter falls,
When, insolent in ruin, o'er their walls
The wrathful soldier drags the hostile plough,
That haughty mark of total overthrow.
Me too in youth the heat of anger fir'd,
And with the rapid rage of rhime inspir'd;
But now, repentant, shall the Muse again
To softer numbers tune her melting strain,
So thou recall thy threats, thy wrath controul,
Resume thy love, and give me back my soul.
PAN from Arcadia's hills descends
To visit oft my Sabine seat,
And here my tender goats defends
From rainy winds, and summer's fiery heat;
For when the vales, wide-spreading round,
The sloping hills, and polish'd rocks
With his harmonious pipe resound,
In fearless safety graze my wandering flocks;
In safety, through the woody brake,
The latent shrubs and thyme explore,
Nor longer dread the speckled snake,
And tremble at the martial wolf no more.
Their poet to the gods is dear,
They love his piety and muse,
And all our rura! honours here
Their flow'ry wealth around thee shall diffuse.
Here shall you tunc Anacreon's lyre,
Beneath a shady mountain's brow, To sing frail Circe's guilty fire,
And chaste Penelope's unbroken vow.
Far from the burning dog-star's rage
Here shall you quaff our harmless wine;
Nor here shall Mars intemperate wage
Rude war with him who rules the jovial vine:
Nor Cyrus' bold suspicions fear;
Not on thy softness shall he lay
His desperate hand, thy clothes to tear,
Or brutal snatch thy festal crown away.
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