Me, the ivy, fit reward

To grace the brow of learned bard,
Equals with the Gods above;

Me the cool and quiet grove,

The nymphs' and satyrs' lightsome dance,

From the vulgar crowd advance ;

If Euterpe nor refuse

To lend her pipe to aid my muse,

Nor Polyhymnia disdain

Her Lesbian lyre to tune again.

But if you number me among The graceful bards of lyric song, Ennobled then to endless time,

I'll strike the stars with head sublime.

ODE II.

TO AUGUSTUS CÆSAR.

Now Jove enough upon the land
Of snow and direful hail hath sent,
And, thundering with his red right hand
Against the sacred battlement,

The city hath alarm'd.

Terruit gentes, grave ne rediret

Sæculum Pyrrhæ, nova monstra questæ,

Omne cùm Proteus pecus egit altos

Visere montes.

Piscium et summâ genus hæsit ulmo,

Nota quæ sedes fuerat columbis,
Et superjecto pavidæ natârunt

Equore damæ.

Vidimus flavum Tiberim, retortis

Littore Etrusco violenter undis,

Ire dejectum monumenta regis,

Templaque Vestæ.

Iliæ dum se nimium querenti
Jactat ultorem, vagus et sinistrâ

Labitur ripâ, Jove non probante,
Uxorius amnis.

Alarm'd hath he the nations, lest

Pyrrha's sad age should come again,
By prodigies so strange distrest;
When Proteus drove his ocean-train
The lofty hills to view.

When to the topmost elm-bough clove The finny tribe, which erst had been The well-known dwelling of the dove; And timid deer were swimming seen In the o'erwhelming flood.

The yellow Tiber we beheld,
Its waves with violence again
From the Etruscan shore repell'd,
Rush to demolish Vesta's fane

And Numa's monuments.

While of his Ilia's plaintive woes
The too uxorious river prides

Himself th' avenger, and o'erflows

His left bank as he wandering glides,

Though unapprov'd by Jove.

Audiet cives acuisse ferrum,

Quo graves Persæ melius perirent;

Audiet pugnas vitio parentum

Rara juventus.

Quem vocet Divûm populus ruentis Imperî rebus? prece quâ fatigent

Virgines sanctæ minùs audientem

Carmina Vestam.

Cui dabit partes scelus expiandi

Jupiter? Tandem venias, precamur, Nube candentes humeros amictus

Augur Apollo.

Sive tu mavis, Erycina ridens,

Quam Jocus circumvolat et Cupido:

Sive neglectum genus et nepotes

Respicis, auctor,

Less numerous by their fathers' guilt, Our youth shall hear of Roman swords 'Gainst Romans whetted, which had spilt Better the blood of Persian hordes;

Of battles shall they hear.

What God to save the state's affairs
From ruin shall the people press?
The sacred virgins with what prayers
Outweary Vesta, less and less

Attentive to their hymns?

Such guilt as ours to expiate

To whom has Jove the task assign'd? Oh! come at length, we supplicate, Thy radiant shoulders cloud-enshrin'd, Prophet Apollo, come.

Or, laughing Erycina, here,

If thou wouldst rather, turn thy face, Whom Mirth and Cupid hover near: Or thou, our founder, if thy race And thy neglected sons