Book
XV
A king is sought to guide the growing state,
One able to support the public weight,
And fill the throne where Romulus had sate.
Renown, which oft bespeaks the public voice,
Had recommended Numa to their choice:
A peaceful pious prince; who not content
To know the Sabine rites, his study bent
To cultivate his mind; to learn the laws
Of nature, and explore their hidden cause.
Urged by this care, his country he forsook,
And to Crotona thence his journey took.
Arrived, he first inquired the founder’s name
Of this new colony, and whence he came.
Then thus a senior of the place replies:
(Well read, and curious of antiquities:)
“ ’Tis said, Alcides hither took his way
From Spain, and drove along his conquer’d prey;
Then, leaving in the fields his grazing cows,
He sought himself some hospitable house;
Good Croton entertain’d his godlike guest;
While he repair’d his weary limbs with rest.
The hero, thence departing, bless’d the place;
‘And here,’ he said, ‘in lime’s revolving race,
A rising town shall take his name from thee.’
Revolving time fulfill’d the prophecy.
For Myscelos, the justest man on earth,
Alemon’s son, at Argos had his birth.
Him Hercules, arm’d with his club of oak,
O’ershadow’d in a dream, and thus bespoke:
‘Go, leave thy native soil, and make abode
Where Aesaris rolls down his rapid flood.’
He said; and sleep forsook him, and the god.
Trembling he waked, and rose with anxious heart;
His country laws forbade him to depart.
What should he do? ’twas death to go away,
And the god menaced if he dared to stay.
All day he doubted, and when night came on,
Sleep, and the same forewarning dream, begun:
Once more the god stood threatening o’er his head:
With added curses if he disobey’d.
Twice warn’d, he studied flight; but would convey
At once his person and his wealth away:
Thus while he linger’d his design was heard;
A speedy process form’d, and death declared.
Witness there needed none of his offence;
Against himself the wretch was evidence:
Condemn’d, and destitute of human aid,
To him for whom he suffer’d thus he pray’d:
“ ‘Oh power, who hast deserved in heaven a throne,
Not given, but by thy labours made thy own,
Pity thy suppliant, and protect his cause,
Whom thou hast made obnoxious to the laws.’
“A custom was of old, and still remains,
Which life or death by suffrages ordains:
White stones and black within an urn are cast;
The first absolve, but fate is in the last.
The judges to the common urn bequeath
Their votes, and drop the sable signs of death;
The box receives all black, but, pour’d from thence,
The stones came candid forth the hue of innocence.
Thus Alemonides his safety won,
Preserved from death by Alcumena’s son:
Then to his kinsman god his vows he pays,
And cuts with prosperous gales the Ionian seas:
He leaves Tarentum favour’d by the wind,
And Thurine bays, and Temises, behind;
Soft Sybaris, and all the capes that stand
Along the shore, he makes in sight of land;
Still doubling, and still coasting, till he found
The mouth of Aesaris, and promised ground;
Then saw, where, on the margin of the flood,
The tomb that held the bones of Croton stood:
Here, by the gods’ command, he built, and wall’d
The place predicted; and Crotona call’d.
Thus fame, from time to time, delivers down
The sure tradition of the Italian town.
“Here dwelt the man divine, whom Samos bore,
But now self-banish’d from his native shore,
Because he hated tyrants, nor could bear
The chains, which none but servile souls will wear.
He, though from heaven remote, to heaven could move,
With strength of mind, and tread the abyss above;
And penetrate, with his interior light,
Those upper depths which nature hid from sight:
And what he had observed and learn’d from thence,
Loved in familiar language to dispense.
“The crowd with silent admiration stand,
And heard him as they heard their god’s command;
While he discoursed of Heaven’s mysterious laws,
The world’s original, and nature’s cause;
And what was God; and why the fleecy snows
In silence fell, and rattling winds arose;
What shook the steadfast earth, and whence begun
The dance of planets round the radiant sun;
If thunder was the voice of angry Jove,
Or clouds with nitre pregnant, burst above;
Of these, and things beyond the common reach,
He spoke, and charm’d his audience with his speech.
“He first the taste of flesh from tables drove,
And argued well, if arguments could move:
‘Oh mortals, from your fellows’ blood abstain,
Nor taint your bodies with a food profane.
While corn and pulse by nature are bestow’d,
And planted orchards bend their willing load;
While labour’d gardens wholesome herbs produce,
And teeming vines afford their generous juice;
Nor tardier fruits of cruder kind are lost,
But tamed with fire, or mellow’d by the frost;
While kine to pails distended udders bring,
And bees their honey redolent of spring;
While earth not only can your needs supply,
But lavish of her store, provides for luxury;
A guiltless feast administers with ease,
And without blood is prodigal to please.
Wild beasts their maws with their slain brethren fill;
And yet not all, for some refuse to kill;
Sheep, goats, and oxen, and the nobler steed,
On browse, and corn, and flowery meadows feed.
Bears, tigers, wolves, the lion’s angry brood,
Whom Heaven indued with principles of blood,
He wisely sunder’d from the rest, to yell
In forests, and in lonely caves to dwell;
Where stronger beasts oppress the weak by might,
And all in prey and purple feasts delight.
“ ‘Oh impious use! to nature’s laws opposed,
Where bowels are in other bowels closed:
Where fatten’d by their fellows’ fat, they thrive;
Maintain’d by murder, and by death they live.
’Tis then for naught, that mother earth provides
The stores of all she shows, and all she hides,
If men with fleshy morsels must be fed,
And chew with bloody teeth the breathing bread
What else is this, but to devour our guests,
And barb’rously renew cyclopean feasts!
We, by destroying life, our life sustain;
And gorge the ungodly maw with meats obscene.
“ ‘Not so the golden age, who fed on fruit,
Nor durst with bloody meals their mouths pollute.
Then birds in airy space might safely move,
And timorous hares on heaths securely rove:
Nor needed fish the guileful hooks to fear,
For all was peaceful; and that peace sincere.
Whoever was the wretch (and cursed be he)
That envied first our food’s simplicity,
The essay of bloody feasts on brutes began,
And after forged the sword to murder man.
Had he the sharpen’d steel alone employ’d
On beasts of prey, that other beasts destroy’d;
Or man invaded with their fangs and paws,
This had been justified by nature’s laws
And self-defence: but who did feasts begin
Of flesh, he stretch’d necessity to sin.
To kill man-killers man has lawful power,
But not the extended license to devour.
“ ‘Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,
As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
The sow, with her broad snout, for rooting up
The entrusted seed, was judged to spoil the crop,
And intercept the sweating farmer’s hope:
The covetous churl, of unforgiving kind,
The offender to the bloody priest resign’d:
Her hunger was no plea: for that she died.
The goat came next in order to be tried:
The goat had cropp’d the tendrils of the vine:
In vengeance laity and clergy join,
Where one had lost his profit, one his wine.
Here was at least some shadow of offence;
The sheep was sacrificed on no pretence,
But meek and unresisting innocence.
A patient, useful creature, born to bear
The warm and woolly fleece, that clothed her murderer;
And daily to give down the milk she bred,
A tribute for the grass on which she fed.
Living, both food and raiment she supplies,
And is of least advantage when she dies.
“ ‘How did the toiling ox his death deserve,
A downright simple drudge, and horn to serve?
Oh tyrant! with what justice canst thou hope
The promise of the year, a plenteous crop;
When thou destroy’st thy labouring steer, who till’d
And plough’d with pains, thy else ungrateful field?
From his yet reeking neck, to draw the yoke,
That neck with which the surly clods he broke;
And to the hatchet yield thy husbandman,
Who finish’d autumn, and the spring began.
“ ‘Nor this alone! but Heaven itself to bribe,
We to the gods our impious acts ascribe;
First recompense with death their creatures’ toil;
Then call the bless’d above to share the spoil:
The fairest victim must the powers appease,
(So fatal ’tis sometimes too much to please!)
A purple fillet his broad brow adorns,
With flowery garlands crown’d, and gilded horns:
He hears the murderous prayer the priest prefers,
But understands not ’tis his doom he hears:
Beholds the meal between his temples cast;
(The fruit and product of his labours past;)
And in the water views perhaps the knife,
Uplifted to deprive him of his life;
Then broken up alive, his entrails sees
Torn out, for priests to inspect the gods’ decrees.
“ ‘From whence, oh mortal men, this gust of blood
Have you derived, and interdicted food?
Be taught by me this dire delight to shun,
Warn’d by my precepts, by my practice won:
And when you eat the well-deserving beast,
Think on the labourer of your field you feast!
“ ‘Now since the god inspires me to proceed,
Be that, whate’er inspiring power, obey’d:
For I will sing of mighty mysteries,
Of truths conceal’d before, from human eyes,
Dark oracles unveil, and open all the skies.
Pleased as I am to walk along the sphere
Of shining stars, and travel with the year,
To leave the heavy earth, and scale the height
Of Atlas, who supports the heavenly weight;
To look from upper light, and thence survey
Mistaken mortals wandering from the way,
And wanting wisdom, fearful for the state
Of future things, and trembling at their fate!
“ ‘Those I would teach; and by right reason bring
To think of death as but an idle thing.
Why thus affrighted at an empty name,
A dream of darkness, and fictitious flame?
Vain themes of wit, which but in poems pass,
And fables of a world that never was?
What feels the body when the soul expires,
By time corrupted, or consumed by fires?
Nor dies the spirit, but new life repeats
In other forms, and only changes seats.
“ ‘Ev’n I, who these mysterious truths declare,
Was once Euphorbus in the Trojan war;
My name and lineage I remember well,
And how in fight by Sparta’s king I fell.
In Argive Juno’s fame I late beheld
My buckler hung on high, and own’d my former shield.
“ ‘Then death, so call’d, is but old matter dress’d
In some new figure, and a varied vest:
Thus all things are but alter’d, nothing dies;
And here and there the unbodied spirit flies,
By time, or force, or sickness dispossess’d,
And lodges, where it lights, in man or beast;
Or hunts without, till ready limbs it find,
And actuates those according to their kind;
From tenement to tenement is toss’d,
The soul is still the same, the figure only lost:
And, as the soften’d wax new seals receives,
This face assumes, and that impression leaves;
Now call’d by one, now by another name;
The form is only changed, the wax is still the same.
So death, so call’d, can but the form deface;
The immortal soul flies out in empty space,
To seek her fortune in some other place.
“ ‘Then let not piety be put to flight,
To please the taste of glutton appetite;
But suffer inmate souls secure to dwell,
Lest from their seats your parents you expel;
With rabid hunger feed upon your kind,
Or from a beast dislodge a brother’s mind.
“ ‘And since, like Typhis parting from the shore,
In ample seas I sail, and depths untried before,
This let me farther add, that nature knows
No steadfast station, but or ebbs or flows:
Ever in motion; she destroys her old,
And casts new figures in another mould.
Ev’n times are in perpetual flux, and run,
Like rivers from their fountain, rolling on;
For time, no more than streams, is at a stay;
The flying hour is ever on her way:
And as the fountain still supplies her store,
The wave behind impels the wave before:
Thus in successive course the minutes run,
And urge their predecessor minutes on,
Still moving, ever new: for former things
Are set aside, like abdicated kings;
And every moment alters what is done,
And innovates some act, till then unknown.
“ ‘Darkness we see emerges into light,
And shining suns descend to sable night;
Ev’n heaven itself receives another dye,
When wearied animals in slumbers lie
Of midnight ease: another, when the gray
Of morn preludes the splendour of the day.
The disk of Phoebus, when he climbs on high,
Appears at first but as a bloodshot eye;
And when his chariot downward drives to bed,
His ball is with the same suffusion red;
But mounted high in his meridian race,
All bright he shines, and with a better face:
For there, pure particles of ether flow,
Far from the infection of the world below.
“ ‘Nor equal light the unequal moon adorns,
Or in her waxing, or her waning horns;
For every day she wanes, her face is less;
But gathering into globe, she fattens at increase.
“ ‘Perceiv’st thou not the process of the year,
How the four seasons in four forms appear,
Resembling human life in every shape they wear?
Spring, first, like infancy, shoots out her head,
With milky juice requiring to be fed:
Helpless, though fresh, and wanting to be led.
The green stem grows in stature, and in size,
But only feeds with hope the farmer’s eyes;
Then laughs the childish year with flow’rets crown’d,
And lavishly perfumes the fields around.
But no substantial nourishment receives;
Infirm the stalks, unsolid are the leaves.
“ ‘Proceeding onward whence the year began,
The summer grows adult, and ripens into man.
This season, as in men, is most replete
With kindly moisture, and prolific heat.
“ ‘Autumn succeeds, a sober tepid age,
Not froze with fear, nor boiling into rage;
More than mature, and tending to decay,
When our brown locks repine to mix with odious gray.
“ ‘Last, winter creeps along with tardy pace;
Sour is his front, and furrow’d is his face:
His scalp, if not dishonour’d quite of hair,
The ragged fleece is thin; and thin is worse than bare.
“ ‘Ev’n our own bodies daily change receive,
Some part of what was theirs before, they leave;
Nor are to-day what yesterday they were;
Nor the whole same to-morrow will appear.
“ ‘Time was when we were sow’d, and just began
To show the promise of a future man:
Then nature’s hand (fermented as it was)
Moulded to shape the soft coagulated mass;
And when the little man was fully form’d,
The breathless embryo with a spirit warm’d;
But when the mother’s throes begin to come,
The creature, pent within the narrow room,
Breaks his blind prison, pushing to repair
His stifled breath, and draw the living air;
Cast on the margin of the world he lies,
A helpless babe, but by instinct he cries.
He next essays to walk, but downward press’d
On four feet imitates his brother beast:
By slow degrees he gathers from the ground
His legs, and to the rolling chair is bound;
Then walks alone; a horseman now become,
He rides a stick, and travels round the room.
In time he vaunts among his youthful peers;
Strong boned, and strung with nerves, in pride of years,
He runs with mettle his first merry stage,
Maintains the next, abated of his rage,
But manages his strength, and spares his age.
Heavy the third, and stiff, he sinks apace,
And though ’tis downhill all, he creeps along the race.
Now sapless on the verge of death he stands,
Contemplating his former feet and hands;
And, Milo like, his slacken’d sinews sees,
And wither’d arms, once fit to cope with Hercules,
Unable now to shake, much less to tear, the trees.
“ ‘So Helen wept, when her too faithful glass
Reflected on her eyes the ruins of her face:
“ ‘Thy teeth, devouring time, thine, envious age,
On things below still exercise your rage:
With venom’d grinders you corrupt your meat,
And then, at lingering meals, the morsels eat.
“ ‘Nor those, which elements we call, abide,
Nor to this figure, nor to that are tied;
For this eternal world is said, of old,
But four prolific principles to hold,
Four different bodies; two to heaven ascend,
And other two down to the centre tend:
Fire first with wings expanded mounts on high,
Pure, void of weight, and dwells in upper sky;
Then air, because unclogg’d in empty space,
Flies after fire, and claims the second place:
But weighty water, as her nature guides,
Lies on the lap of earth; and mother earth subsides.
“ ‘All things are mix’d of these, which all contain,
And into these are all resolved again:
Earth rarifies to dew; expanded more,
The subtle dew in air begins to soar;
Spreads, as she flies, and weary of her name
Extenuates still, and changes into flame;
Thus having by degrees perfection won,
Restless they soon untwist the web they spun,
And fire begins to lose her radiant hue,
Mix’d with gross air, and air descends to dew;
And dew condensing, does her form forego,
And sinks a heavy lump of earth below.
“ ‘Thus are their figures never at a stand,
But changed by nature’s innovating hand;
All things are alter’d, nothing is destroy’d,
The shifted scene for some new show employ’d.
“ ‘Then, to be born is to begin to be
Some other thing we were not formerly:
And what we call to die, is not to appear,
Or be the thing that formerly we were.
Those very elements, which we partake
Alive, when dead some other bodies make:
Translated grow, have sense, or can discourse;
But death on deathless substance have no force.
“ ‘That forms are changed, I grant; that nothing can
Continue in the figure it began:
The golden age to silver was debased,
To copper that; our metal came at last.
“ ‘The face of places, and their forms decay;
And that is solid earth that once was sea:
Seas in their turn retreating from the shore,
Make solid land, what ocean was before
And far from strands are shells of fishes found,
And rusty anchors fix’d on mountain ground:
And what were fields before, now wash’d and worn
By falling floods from high, to valleys turn,
And crumbling still descend to level lands;
And lakes, and trembling bogs, are barren sands:
And the parch’d desert floats in streams unknown,
Wondering to drink of waters not her own.
“ ‘Here nature living fountains opes; and there
Seals up the wombs, where living fountains were:
Or earthquakes stop their ancient course, and bring
Diverted streams to feed a distant spring.
So Lycus, swallow’d up, is seen no more,
But far from thence knocks out another door.
Thus Erasmus dives; and blind in earth
Runs on, and gropes his way to second birth,
Starts up in Argos’ meads, and shakes his locks
Around the fields, and fattens all the flocks.
So Mysus by another way is led,
And, grown a river, now disdains his head;
Forgets his humble birth, his name forsakes,
And the proud title of Caicus takes.
Large Amenane, impure with yellow sands,
Runs rapid often, and as often stands;
And here he threats the drunken fields to drown;
And there his dugs deny to give their liquor down.
“ ‘Anigros once did wholesome draughts afford,
But now his deadly waters are abhorr’d:
Since, hurt by Hercules, as fame resounds,
The centaurs in his current wash’d their wounds.
The streams of Hypanis are sweet no more,
But brackish lose the taste they had before.
Antissa, Pharos, Tyre, in seas were pent,
Once isles, but now increase the continent;
While the Leucadian coast, main land before,
By rushing seas is sever’d from the shore.
So Zancle to the Italian earth was tied,
And men once walk’d where ships at anchor ride;
Till Neptune overlook’d the narrow way,
And in disdain pour’d in the conquering sea.
“ ‘Two cities, that adorn’d the Achaian ground,
Buris, and Helice, no more are found,
But whelm’d beneath a lake, are sunk and drown’d;
And boatmen, through the crystal water, show
To wondering passengers the walls below.
“ ‘Near Troezen stands a hill, exposed in air
To winter winds of leafy shadows bare:
This once was level ground: but (strange to tell)
The included vapours, that in caverns dwell,
Labouring with colic pangs, and close confined,
In vain sought issue for the rumbling wind:
Yet still they heaved for vent, and heaving still
Enlarged the concave, and shot up the hill;
As breath extends a bladder, or the skins
Of goats are blown to enclose the hoarded wines:
The mountain yet retains a mountain’s face,
And gather’d rubbish heals the hollow space.
Of many wonders which I heard, or knew,
Retrenching most, I will relate but few:
What, are not springs with qualities opposed,
Endued at seasons, and at seasons lost?
Thrice in a day thine, Ammon, change their form,
Cold at high noon, at morn and evening warm:
Thine, Athaman, will kindle wood, if thrown
On the piled earth, and in the waning moon.
The Thracians have a stream, if any try
The taste, his harden’d bowels petrify;
Whate’er it touches, it converts to stones,
And makes a marble pavement where it runs.
“ ‘Crathis, and Sybaris, her sister flood,
That slide through our Calabrian neighbour wood,
With gold and amber die the shining hair,
And thither youth resort: (for who would not be fair?)
“ ‘But stranger virtues yet in streams we find,
Some change not only bodies, but the mind:
Who has not heard of Salmacis obscene,
Whose waters into women soften men?
Or Aethiopian lakes, which turn the brain
To madness, or in heavy sleep constrain?
Clytorian streams the love of wine expel,
(Such is the virtue of the abstemious well,)
Whether the colder nymph, that rules the flood,
Extinguishes, and balks the drunken god;
Or that Melampus (so have some assured)
When the mad Proetides with charms he cured,
And powerful herbs, both charms, and simples cast
Into the sober spring, where still their virtues last.
“ ‘Unlike effects Lyncestis will produce;
Who drinks his waters, though with moderate use,
Reels us with wine, and sees with double sight;
His heels too heavy, and his head too light.
Ladon, once Pheneus, an Arcadian stream,
(Ambiguous in the effects, as in the name,)
By day is wholesome beverage, but is thought
By night infected, and a deadly draught.
“ ‘Thus running rivers, and the standing lake,
Now of these virtues, now of those partake:
Time was (and all things time and fate obey)
When fast Ortygia floated on the sea;
Such were Cyanean isles, when Typhis steer’d
Between their straits, and their collision fear’d;
They swam where now they sit; and firmly join’d,
Secure of rooting up, resist the wind.
Nor Aetna, vomiting sulphureous fire,
Will ever belch; for sulphur will expire:
(The veins exhausted of the liquid store:)
Time was, she cast no flames; in time will cast no more.
“ ‘For whether earth’s an animal, and air
Imbibes, her lungs with coolness to repair,
And what she sucks remits, she still require
Inlets for air, and outlets for her fires;
When tortured with convulsive fits she shakes,
That motion choke the vent, till other vent she makes:
Or when the winds in hollow caves are closed,
And subtle spirits find that way opposed,
They toss up flints in air; the flints that hide
The seeds of fire, thus toss’d in air, collide,
Kindling the sulphur, till the fuel spent,
The cave is cool’d, and the fierce winds relent.
“ ‘Or whether sulphur, catching fire, feeds on
Its unctuous parts, till all the matter gone,
The flames no more ascend; for earth supplies
The fat that feeds them; and when earth denies
That food, by length of time consumed, the fire
Famish’d for want of fuel must expire.
“ ‘A race of men there are, as fame has told,
Who shivering suffer Hyperborean cold,
Till nine times bathing in Minerva’s lake,
Soft feathers, to defend their naked sides they take.
’Tis said, the Scythian wives (believe who will)
Transform’d themselves to birds by magic skill:
Smear’d over with an oil of wondrous might,
That adds new pinions to their airy flight.
“ ‘But this by sure experiment we know,
That living creatures from corruption grow:
Hide in a hollow pit a slaughter’d steer,
Bees from his putrid bowels will appear;
Who, like their parents, haunt the fields, and bring
Their honey harvest home, and hope another spring.
The warlike steed is multiplied, we find,
To wasps, and hornets of the warrior kind.
Cut from a crab his crooked claws, and hide
The rest in earth, a scorpion thence will glide,
And shoot his sting; his tail in circles toss’d
Refers the limbs his backward father lost;
And worms, that stretch on leaves their filmy loom,
Crawl from their bags, and butterflies become.
Ev’n slime begets the frog’s loquacious race:
Short of their feet at first, in little space
With arms, and legs endued, long leaps they take,
Raised on their hinder part, and swim the lake,
And waves repel; for nature gives their kind,
To that intent, a length of legs behind.
“ ‘The cubs of bears a living lump appear,
When whelp’d, and no determined figure wear.
Their mother licks them into shape, and gives
As much of form, as she herself receives.
“ ‘The grubs from their sexangular abode
Crawl out unfinish’d, like the maggot’s brood:
Trunks without limbs; till time at leisure brings,
The thighs they wanted, and their tardy wings.
“ ‘The bird, that draws the car of Juno, vain
Of her crown’d head, and of her starry train;
And he that bears the artillery of Jove,
The strong-pounced eagle, and the billing dove;
And all the feather’d kind, who could suppose
(But that for sight, the surest sense, he knows)
They from the included yolk, not ambient white, arose?
“ ‘There are, who think the marrow of a man,
Which in the spine, while he was living, ran,
When dead, the pith corrupted will become
A snake, and hiss within the hollow tomb.
“ ‘All these receive their birth from other things;
Out from himself the phoenix only springs:
Self-born, begotten by the parent flame
In which he burn’d, another and the same;
Who not by corn, or herbs his life sustains,
But the sweet essence of amomum drains;
And watches the rich gums Arabia bears,
While yet in tender dew they drop their tears.
He, (his five centuries of life fulfill’d,)
His nest on oaken boughs begins to build,
Or trembling tops of palm; and first he draws
The plan with his broad bill, and crooked claws.
Nature’s artificers; on this the pile
Is form’d, and rises round, then with the spoil
Of cassia, cinnamon, and stems of nard,
(For softness strew’d beneath,) his funeral bed is rear’d
Funeral and bridal both; and all around
The borders with corruptless myrrh are crown’d.
On this incumbent, till ethereal flame
First catches, then consumes the costly frame:
Consumes him too, as on the pile he lies;
He lived on odours, and in odours dies.
“ ‘An infant phoenix from the former springs,
His father’s heir, and from his tender wings
Shakes off his parent dust, his method he pursues,
And the same lease of life on the same terms renews.
When grown to manhood he begins his reign,
And with stiff pinions can his flight sustain;
He lightens of its load the tree that bore
His father’s royal sepulchre before,
And his own cradle: this with pious care
Placed on his back, he cuts the buxom air,
Seeks the sun’s city, and his sacred church,
And decently lays down his burden in the porch.
“ ‘A wonder more amazing would we find?
The hyena shows it, of a double kind:
The thin chameleon fed with air, receives
The colour of the thing to which he cleaves.
“ ‘India when conquer’d, on the conquering god
For planted vines the sharp-eyed lynx bestow’d,
Whose moisture shed before it touches earth
Congeals in air, and gives to gems their birth.
So coral soft, and white in ocean’s bed,
Comes harden’d up in air, and glows with red.
“ ‘All changing species should my song recite;
Before I ceased, would change the day to night.
Nations and empires flourish, and decay,
By turns command, and in their turns obey;
Time softens hardy people; time again
Hardens to war a soft, unwarlike train.
Thus Troy for ten long years her foes withstood,
And, daily bleeding, bore the expense of blood:
Now for thick streets it shows an empty space,
Or, only fill’d with tombs of her own perish’d race,
Herself becomes the sepulchre of what she was.
“ ‘Mycene, Sparta, Thebes, of mighty fame,
Are vanish’d out of substance into name;
And Dardan Rome, that just begins to rise
On Tiber’s banks, in time shall mate the skies;
Widening her bounds, and working on her way,
Ev’n now she meditates imperial sway:
Yet this is change, but she by changing thrives,
Like moons new born, and in her cradle strives
To fill her infant horns: an hour shall come,
When the round world shall be contain’d in Rome.
“ ‘For thus old saws foretell, and Helenus
Anchises’ drooping son enliven’d thus,
When Ilium now was in a sinking state,
And he was doubtful of his future fate:
“Oh goddess born! with thy hard fortune strive;
Troy never can be lost, and thou alive.
Thy passage thou shalt free through fire and sword,
And Troy in foreign lands shall be restored:
In happier fields a rising town I see
Greater than whate’er was, or is, or e’er shall be;
And Heaven yet owes the world a race derived from thee.
Sages and chiefs, of other lineage born,
The city shall extend—extended, shall adorn:
But from Iulus he must draw his breath,
By whom thy Rome shall rule the conquer’d earth
Whom heaven will lend mankind, on earth to reign,
And late require the precious pledge again.”
This Helenus to great Aeneas told,
Which I retain, e’er since in other mould
My soul was clothed; and now rejoice to view
My country walls rebuilt, and Troy revived anew,
Raised by the fall, decreed by loss to gain,
Enslaved but to be free, and conquer’d but to reign.
“ ‘ ’Tis time my hard mouth’d coursers to control,
Apt to run riot, and transgress the goal;
And therefore I conclude, whatever lies
In earth, or flits in air, or fills the skies,
All suffer change; and we that are of soul
And body mix’d, are members of the whole:
Then when our sires or grandsires shall forsake
The forms of men, and brutal figures take,
Thus housed, securely let their spirits rest,
Nor violate thy father in the beast,
Thy friend, thy brother, any of thy kin;
If none of these, yet there’s a man within:
Oh spare to make a Thyestaean meal,
To enclose his body, and his soul expel.
“ ‘Ill customs by degrees to habits rise,
Ill habits soon become exalted vice:
What more advance can mortals make in sin,
So near perfection, who with blood begin?
Deaf to the calf that lies beneath the knife,
Looks up, and from her butcher begs her life;
Deaf to the harmless kid, that, ere he dies,
All methods to procure thy mercy tries,
And imitates in vain thy children’s cries?
Where will he stop, who feeds with household bread,
Then eats the poultry which before he fed?
Let plough thy steers, that when they lose their breath,
To nature, not to thee, they may impute their death.
Let goats for food their loaded udders lend,
And sheep from winter cold thy sides defend;
But neither springes, nets, nor snares employ,
And be no more ingenious to destroy.
Free as in air, let birds on earth remain,
Nor let insidious glue their wings constrain;
Nor opening hounds the trembling stags affright,
Nor purple feathers intercept his flight;
Nor hooks conceal’d in baits for fish prepare,
Nor lines to heave them twinkling up in air.
“ ‘Take not away the life you cannot give;
For all things have an equal right to live:
Kill noxious creatures, where ’tis sin to save;
This only just prerogative we have:
But nourish life with vegetable food,
And shun the sacrilegious taste of blood.’ ”
These precepts by the Samian sage were taught,
Which godlike Numa to the Sabines brought,
And thence transferr’d to Rome, by gift his own;
A willing people, and an offer’d throne.
Oh happy monarch! sent by Heaven to bless
A savage nation with soft arts of peace;
To teach religion, rapine to restrain,
Give laws to lust, and sacrifice ordain:
Himself a saint, a goddess was his bride;
And all the muses o’er his acts preside.
Advanced in years he died; one common date
His reign concluded, and his mortal state.
Their tears plebeians and patricians shed,
And pious matrons wept their monarch dead.
His mournful wife, her sorrows to bewail,
Withdrew from Rome, and sought the Arician vale:
Hid in thick woods, she made incessant moans,
Disturbing Cynthia’s sacred rites with groans.
How oft the nymphs, who ruled the wood and lake,
Reproved her tears, and words of comfort spake!
“How oft in vain,” the son of Theseus said,
“Thy stormy sorrows be with patience laid;
Nor are thy fortunes to be wept alone;
Weigh others’ woes, and learn to bear thine own.
Be mine an instance to assuage thy grief:
Would mine were none! yet mine may bring relief.
“You’ve heard, perhaps, in conversation told,
What once befell Hippolytus of old;
To death by Theseus’ easy faith betray’d,
And caught in snares his wicked stepdame laid.
The wondrous tale your credit scarce may claim,
Yet, strange to say, behold in me the same
Whom amorous Phaedra oft had press’d in vain,
My father’s honour and my own to stain;
Till, seized with fear, or by revenge inspired,
She charged on me the crimes herself desired.
Expell’d by Theseus, from his home I fled,
With heaps of curses on my guiltless head.
Forlorn, I sought Pitthean Troezen’s land,
And drove my chariot o’er Corinthus’ strand;
When from the surface of the level main
A billow rising, heaved above the plain,
Rolling and gathering, till so high it swell’d,
A mountain’s height the enormous mass excell’d;
Then bellowing, burst, when from the summit cleaved,
A horned bull his ample chest upheaved:
His mouth and nostrils storms of briny rain,
Expiring, blew. Dread horror seized my train.
I stood unmoved. My father’s cruel doom
Claim’d all my soul, nor fear could find a room.
Amazed, a while my trembling coursers stood,
With prick’d-up ears, contemplating the flood;
Then, starting sudden from the dreadful view,
At once like lightning from the seas they flew,
And o’er the craggy rocks the chariot drew.
In vain to stop the hot-mouthed steeds I tried,
And, bending backward, all my strength applied;
The frothy foam in driving flakes distains
The bits and bridles, and bedews the reins.
But though as yet untamed they run, at length
Their heady rage had tired beneath my strength,
When in the spokes a stump entangling, tore
The shatter’d wheel, and from its axle bore.
The shock impetuous toss’d me from the seat,
Caught in the reins, beneath my horses’ feet;
Then stretch’d, the well-knit limbs in pieces haled;
Part stuck behind, and part the chariot trail’d,
Till, midst my cracking joints and breaking bones,
I breathed away my wearied soul in groans.
No part distinguish’d from the rest was found,
But all my parts a universal wound.
“Now say, self-tortured nymph, can you compare
Our griefs as equal, or in justice dare?
I saw besides the darksome realms of wo,
And bathed my wounds in smoking streams below.
There I had stay’d, nor second life enjoy’d,
But Paean’s son his wondrous art employ’d.
To light restored, by medicinal skill,
In spite of fate, and rigid Pluto’s will,
The invidious object to preserve from view,
A misty cloud around me Cynthia threw;
And lest my sight should stir my foes to rage,
She stamp’d my visage with the marks of age.
My former hue was changed, and for it shown
A set of features and a face unknown.
A while the goddess stood in doubt, or Crete,
Or Delos’ isle, to choose for my retreat.
Delos and Crete refused, this wood she chose,
Bade me my former luckless name depose,
Which kept alive the memory of my woes;
Then said, ‘Immortal life be thine, and thou,
Hippolytus once call’d, be Virbius now.’
Here then a god, but of the inferior race,
I serve my goddess, and attend her chase.”
But others’ woes were useless to appease
Egeria’s grief, or set her mind at ease:
Beneath the hill fill comfortless she laid;
The dropping tears her eyes incessant shed,
Till pitying Phoebus eased her pious wo,
Thaw’d to a spring, whose streams for ever flow.
The nymphs and Virbius like amazement fill’d,
As seized the swains who Tyrrhene furrows till’d,
When heaving up, a clod was seen to roll,
Untouch’d, self-moved, and big with human soul.
The spreading mass, in former shape deposed,
Began to shoot, and arms and legs disclosed,
Till, form’d a perfect man, the living mould
Oped its new mouth, and future truths foretold;
And, Tages named by natives of the place,
Taught arts prophetic to the Tuscan race.
Or such as once by Romulus was shown,
Who saw his lance with sprouting leaves o’ergrown,
When fix’d in earth the point began to shoot,
And, growing downward, turn’d a fibrous root;
While spread aloft, the branching arms display’d,
O’er wondering crowds, an unexpected shade.
Or as when Cippus in the current view’d
The shooting horns that on his forehead stood,
His temples first he feels, and, with surprise,
His touch confirms the assurance of his eyes.
Straight to the skies his horned front he rears,
And to the gods directs these pious prayers:
“If this portent be prosperous, oh decree
To Rome the event; if otherwise, to me.”
An altar then of turf he hastes to raise;
Rich gums in fragrant exhalations blaze;
The panting entrails crackle as they fry,
And boding fumes pronounce a mystery.
Soon as the augur saw the holy fire,
And victims with presaging signs expire,
To Cippus then he turns his eyes with speed,
And views the horny honours of his head;
Then cried, “Hail, conqueror! thy call obey;
Those omens I behold presage thy sway:
Rome waits thy nod, unwilling to be free,
And owns thy sovereign power as fate’s decree.”
He said; and Cippus, starting at the event,
Spoke in these words his pious discontent:
“Far hence, ye gods, this execration send,
And the great race of Romulus defend.
Better that I in exile live abhorr’d,
Than e’er the capitol should style me lord.”
This spoke, he hides with leaves his omen’d head
Then prays; the senate next convenes, and said:
“If augurs can foresee, a wretch is come,
Design’d by destiny the bane of Rome.
Two horns (most strange to tell) his temples crown:
If e’er he pass the walls, and gain the town,
Your laws are forfeit that ill-fated hour,
And liberty must yield to lawless power.
Your gates he might have enter’d; but this arm
Seized the usurper, and withheld the harm.
Haste, find the monster out, and let him be
Condemn’d to all the senate can decree;
Or tied in chains, or into exile thrown,
Or by the tyrant’s death prevent your own.”
The crowd such murmurs utter as they stand,
As swelling surges breaking on the strand:
Or as when gathering gales sweep o’er the grove,
And their tall heads the bending cedars move.
Each with confusion gazed, and then began
To feel his fellow’s brows, and find the man.
Cippus then shakes his garland off, and cries,
“The wretch you want I offer to your eyes.”
The anxious throng look’d down, and, sad in thought,
All wish’d they had not found the sign they sought.
In haste, with laurel wreaths his head they bind:
Such honour to such virtue was assign’d.
Then thus the senate: “Hear, oh Cippus, hear:
So godlike is thy tutelary care,
That since in Rome thyself forbids thy stay,
For thy abode those acres we convey
The ploughshare can surround, the labour of a day.
In deathless records thou shalt stand enroll’d;
And Rome’s rich posts shall shine with horns of gold.”
Melodious maids of Pindus, who inspire
The flowing strains, and tune the vocal lyre,
Tradition’s secrets are unlock’d to you,
Old tales revive, and ages past renew;
You who can hidden causes best expound,
Say, whence the isle which Tiber flows around,
Its altars with a heavenly stranger graced,
And in our shrines the god of physic placed.
A wasting plague infected Latium’s skies;
Pale, bloodless looks were seen, with ghastly eyes;
The dire disease’s marks each visage wore,
And the pure blood was changed to putrid gore:
In vain were human remedies applied;
In vain the power of healing herbs was tried:
Wearied with death, they seek celestial aid,
And visit Phoebus in his Delphic shade;
In the world’s centre sacred Delphos stands,
And gives its oracles to distant lands:
Here they implore the god, with fervent vows,
His salutary power to interpose,
And end a great afflicted city’s woes.
The holy temple sudden tremours proved;
The laurel grove and all its quivers moved;
In hollow sounds the priestess thus began,
And through each bosom thrilling horrors ran:
“The assistance, Roman, which you here implore,
Seek from another, and a nearer shore;
Relief must be implored, and succour won,
Not from Apollo, but Apollo’s son;
My son, to Latium borne, shall bring redress;
Go with good omens, and expect success.”
When these clear oracles the senate knew,
The sacred tripod’s counsels they pursue,
Depute a pious and a chosen band,
Who sail to Epidaurus’ neighbouring land.
Before the Grecian elders when they stood,
They pray them to bestow the healing god:
“Ordain’d was he to save Ausonia’s state;
So promised Delphos, and unerring fate.”
Opinions various their debates enlarge:
Some plead to yield to Rome the sacred charge;
Others, tenacious of their country’s wealth,
Refuse to grant the power who guards its health.
While dubious they remain’d, the wasting light
Withdrew before the growing shades of night;
Thick darkness now obscured the dusky skies:
Now, Roman, closed in sleep were mortal eyes,
When health’s auspicious god appears to thee,
And thy glad dreams his form celestial see:
In his left hand, a rural staff preferr’d,
His right is seen to stroke his decent beard.
“Dismiss,” said he, with mildness all divine,
“Dismiss your fears; I come, and leave my shrine.
This serpent view, that with ambitious play
My staff encircles, mark him every way;
His form, though larger, nobler, I’ll assume,
And changed, as gods should be, bring aid to Rome.”
Here fled the vision, and the vision’s flight
Was follow’d by the cheerful dawn of light.
Nor was the morn with blushing streaks o’erspread,
And all the starry fires of heaven were fled;
The chiefs perplex’d, and fill’d with doubtful care,
To their protector’s sumptuous roofs repair,
By genuine signs implore him to express,
What seats he deigns to choose, what land to bless:
Scarce their ascending prayers had reached the sky;
Lo, the serpentine god, erected high!
Forerunning hissings his approach confess’d;
Bright shone his golden scales, and waved his lofty crest;
The trembling altar his appearance spoke;
The marble floor, and glittering ceiling shook;
The doors were rock’d; the statue seemed to nod;
And all the fabric own’d the present god;
His radiant chest he taught aloft to rise,
And round the temple cast his flaming eyes:
Struck was the astonish’d crowd; the holy priest,
His temples with white bands of ribboned dress’d,
With reverent awe the power divine confess’d!
“The god! the god!” he cries; “all tongues be still!
Each conscious breast devoutest ardour fill!
Oh beauteous! oh divine! assist our cares,
And be propitious to thy vot’ries prayers!”
All with consenting hearts, and pious fear,
The words repeat, the deity revere:
The Romans in their holy worship join’d,
With silent awe, and purity of mind:
Gracious to them, his crest is seen to nod,
And, as an earnest of his care, the god,
Thrice hissing, vibrates thrice his forked tongue;
And now the smooth descent he glides along:
Still on the ancient seats he bends his eyes,
In which his statue breathes, his altars rise;
His long-loved shrine with kind concern he leases,
And to forsake the accustom’d mansion grieves:
At length his weeping bulk in state is borne
Through the throng’d streets, which scatter’d flowers adorn;
Through many a fold he winds his mazy course,
And gains the port and moles, which break the ocean’s force.
’Twas here he made a stand, and having view’d
The pious train, who his last steps pursued,
Seem’d to dismiss their zeal with gracious eyes,
While gleams of pleasure in his aspect rise.
And now the Latian vessel he ascends;
Beneath the weighty god the vessel bends:
The Latins on the strand great Jove appease,
Their cables loose, and plough the yielding seas:
The high-rear’d serpent from the stern displays
His gorgeous form, and the blue deep surveys;
The ship is wafted on with gentle gales,
And o’er the calm Ionian smoothly sails;
On the sixth morn the Italian coast they gain,
And touch Lacinia, graced with Juno’s fane;
Now fair Calabria to the sight is lost,
And all the cities on her fruitful coast;
They pass at length the rough Sicilian shore,
The Brutian soil, rich with metallic ore,
The famous isles, where Aeolus was king,
And Paestus blooming with eternal spring:
Minerva’s cape they leave, and Capreae’s isle,
Campania, on whose hills the vineyards smile,
The city, which Alcides’ spoils adorn,
Naples, for soft delight and pleasure born;
Fair Stabiae, with Cumean sibyls’ seats,
And Baiae’s tepid baths, and green retreats;
Linternum next they reach, where balmy gums
Distil from mastic trees, and spread perfumes;
Cajeta, from the nurse so named for whom
With pious care Aeneas raised a tomb.
Vulturne, whose whirlpools suck the numerous sands,
And Trachas, and Minturnae’s marshy lands,
And Formia’s coast is left, and Circe’s plain,
Which yet remembers her enchanting reign;
To Antium, last, his course the pilot guides.
Here, while the anchor’d vessel safely rides,
(For now the ruffled deep portends a storm,)
The spiry god unfolds his spheric form,
Through large indentings draws his lubric train,
And seeks the refuge of Apollo’s fane;
The fane is situate on the yellow shore:
When the sea smiled, and the winds raged no more,
He leaves his father’s hospitable lands,
And furrows, with his rattling scales, the sands
Along the coast; at length the ship regains,
And sails to Tibur, and Lavinium’s plains.
Here mingling crowds to meet their patron came,
Ev’n the chaste guardians of the Vestal flame,
From every part tumultuous they repair,
And joyful acclamations rend the air:
Along the flow’ry banks, on either side,
Where the tall ship floats on the swelling tide,
Disposed in decent order altars rise,
And crackling incense, as it mounts the skies,
The air with sweets refreshes; while the knife,
Warm with the victim’s blood, lets out the streaming life.
The world’s great mistress, Rome, receives him now;
On the mast’s top reclined he waves his brow,
And from that height surveys the great abodes,
And mansions, worthy of residing gods.
The land, a narrow neck, itself extends,
Round which his course the stream divided bends;
The stream’s two arms, on either side, are seen,
Stretch’d out in equal length; the land between.
The isle, so call’d, from hence derives its name:
’Twas here the salutary serpent came;
Nor sooner has he left the Latian pine,
But he assumes again his form divine,
And now no more the drooping city mourns,
Joy is again restored, and health returns.
But Esculapius was a foreign power:
In his own city Caesar we adore:
Him arms and arts alike renown’d beheld,
In peace conspicuous, dreadful in the field;
His rapid conquests, and swift-finish’d wars,
The hero justly fix’d among the stars;
Yet is his progeny his greatest fame:
The son immortal makes the father’s name.
The sea-girt Britons, by his courage tamed,
For their high rocky cliffs, and fierceness famed;
His dreadful navies, which victorious rode
O’er Nile’s affrighted waves and seven-sourced flood;
Numidia, and the spacious realms regain’d,
Where Cinyphis or flows, or Juba reign’d;
The powers of titled Mithridates broke,
And Pontus added to the Roman yoke;
Triumphal shows decreed, for conquests won,
For conquests, which the triumphs still outshone;
These are great deeds; yet less, than to have given
The world a lord, in whom, propitious Heaven,
When you decreed the sovereign rule to place,
You bless’d with lavish bounty human race.
Now lest so great a prince might seem to rise
Of mortal stem, his sire must reach the skies;
The beauteous goddess, that Aeneas bore,
Foresaw it, and foreseeing did deplore;
For well she knew her hero’s fate was nigh,
Devoted by conspiring arms to die.
Trembling, and pale, Jo every god she cried:
“Behold, what deep and subtle arts are tried,
To end the last, the only branch that springs
From my lulus, and the Dardan kings!
How bent they are! how desperate to destroy
All that is left me of unhappy Troy!
Am I alone by fate ordain’d to know
Uninterrupted care and endless wo?
Now from Tydides’ spear I feel the wound:
Now Ilium’s towers the hostile flames surround:
Troy laid in dust, my exiled son I mourn,
Through angry seas, and raging billows borne;
O’er the wide deep his wandering course he bends;
Now to the sullen shades of Styx descends:
With Turnus driven at last fierce wars to wage,
Whether with unpitying Juno’s rage.
But why record I now my ancient woes?
Sense of past ills in present fears I lose;
On me their points the impious daggers throw;
Forbid it, gods, repel the direful blow:
If by cursed weapons Numa’s priest expires,
No longer shall ye burn, ye Vestal fires.”
While such complainings Cypria’s grief disclose,
In each celestial breast compassion rose:
Not gods can alter fate’s resistless will;
Yet they foretold by signs the approaching ill.
Dreadful were heard, among the clouds, alarms
Of echoing trumpets, and of clashing arms;
The sun’s pale image gave so faint a light,
That the sad earth was almost veil’d in night;
The ether’s face with fiery meteors glow’d;
With storms of hail were mingled drops of blood;
A dusky hue the morning star o’erspread,
And the moon’s orb was stain’d with spots of red;
In every place portentous shrieks were heard,
The fatal warnings of the infernal bird;
In every place the marble melts to tears;
While in the groves, revered through length of years,
Boding and awful sounds the ear invade,
And solemn music warbles through the shade;
No victim can atone the impious age,
No sacrifice the wrathful gods assuage;
Dire wars and civil fury threat the state;
And every omen points out Caesar’s fate:
Around each hallow’d shrine, and sacred dome,
Night-howling dogs disturb the peaceful gloom;
Their silent seats the wandering shades forsake,
And fearful tremblings the rock’d city shake.
Yet could not, by these prodigies, be broke
The plotted charm, or stay’d the fatal stroke;
Their swords the assassins in the temple draw:
Their murdering hands nor gods nor temples awe;
This sacred place their bloody weapons stain,
And virtue falls, before the altar slain.
’Twas now fair Cypria, with her woes oppress’d,
In raging anguish smote her heavenly breast;
Wild with distracting fears, the goddess tried
Her hero in the ethereal cloud to hide;
The cloud, which youthful Paris did conceal,
When Menelaus urged the threat’ning steel;
The cloud, which once deceived Tydides’ sight,
And saved Aeneas in the unequal fight.
When Jove: “In vain, fair daughter, you essay
To o’errule destiny’s unconquer’d sway:
Your doubts to banish, enter fate’s abode;
A privilege to heavenly powers allow’d;
There you shall see the records graved, in length,
On iron and solid brass, with mighty strength;
Which heaven and earth’s concussion shall endure,
Maugre all shocks, eternal, and secure:
There, on perennial adamant design’d,
The various fortunes of your race you’ll find:
Well I have mark’d them, and will now relate
To thee the settled laws of future fate.
He, goddess, for whose death the fates you blame,
Has finish’d his determined course with fame:
To thee ’tis given at length, that he shall shine
Among the gods, and grace the worshipp’d shrine:
His son to all his greatness shall be heir,
And worthily succeed to empire’s care:
Ourself will lead his wars, resolved to aid
The brave avenger of his father’s shade:
To him its freedom Mutina shall owe,
And Decius his auspicious conduct know;
His dreadful powers shall shake Pharsalia’s plain,
And drench in gore Phillippi’s fields again:
A mighty leader, in Sicilia’s flood,
Great Pompey’s warlike son, shall be subdued;
Egypt’s soft queen, adorn’d with fatal charms,
Shall mourn her soldiers’ unsuccessful arms:
Too late shall find her swelling hopes were vain,
And know that Rome o’er Memphis still must reign:
What name I Afric, or Nile’s hidden head
For as both oceans roll, his power shall spread:
All the known earth to him shall homage pay,
And the seas own his universal sway:
When cruel war no more disturbs mankind,
To civil studies shall he bend his mind;
With equal justice guardian laws ordain,
And by his great example vice restrain:
Where will his bounty or his goodness end?
To times unborn his generous views extend;
The virtues of his heir our praise engage,
And promise blessings to the coming age:
Late shall he in his kindred orbs be placed,
With Pylian years, and crowded honours graced.
Meantime, your hero’s fleeting spirit bear,
Fresh from his wounds, and change it to a star:
So shall great Julius rites divine assume,
And from the skies eternal smile on Rome.”
This spoke, the goddess to the senate flew;
Where, her fair form conceal’d from mortal view,
Her Caesar’s heavenly part she made her care,
Nor left the recent soul to waste to air;
But bore it upward to its native skies:
Glowing with newborn fires she saw it rise;
Forth springing from her bosom up it flew,
And, kindling as it soar’d, a comet grew:
Above the lunar sphere it took its flight,
And shot behind it a long trail of light.
Thus raised, his glorious offspring Julius view’d.
Beneficently great, and scattering good,
Deeds, that his own surpass’d, with joy beheld,
And his large heart dilates to be excell’d.
What though this prince refuses to receive
The preference, which his juster subjects give;
Fame uncontroll’d, that no restraint obeys,
The homage, shunn’d by modest virtue, pays,
And proves disloyal only in his praise.
Though great his sire, him greater we proclaim:
So Atreus yields to Agamemnon’s fame;
Achilles so superior honours won,
And Peleus must submit to Peleus’ son:
Examples yet more noble to disclose,
So Saturn was eclipsed, when Jove to empire rose:
Jove rules the heavens, the earth Augustus sways;
Each claims a monarch’s, and a father’s praise.
Celestials, who for Rome your cares employ;
Ye gods, who guarded the remains of Troy;
Ye native gods, here born, and fix’d by fate;
Quirinus, founder of the Roman state;
Oh parent Mars, from whom Quirinus sprung;
Chaste Vesta, Caesar’s household gods among
Most sacred held; domestic Phoebus, thou,
To whom with Vesta chaste alike we bow;
Great guardian of the high Tarpeian rock;
And all ye powers, whom poets may invoke;
Oh grant, that day may claim our sorrows late,
When loved Augustus shall submit to fate,
Visit those seats, where gods and heroes dwell,
And leave, in tears, the world he ruled so well!
The work is finish’d, which nor dreads the rage
Of tempests, fire, or war, or wasting age;
Come, soon or late, death’s undetermined day,
This mortal being only can decay;
My nobler part, my fame, shall reach the skies,
And to late times with blooming honours rise:
Whate’er the unbounded Roman power obeys,
All climes and nations shall record thy praise:
If ’tis allow’d to poets to divine.
One half of round eternity is mine.