The Works of Horace In English Verse :: :: University of Virginia Library

So may th'auspicious Queen of Love,
And the twin Stars, (the Seed of Jove,)
And He, who rules the raging Wind,
To Thee, O sacred Ship! be kind;
And gentle Breezes fill thy Sails,
Supplying soft Etesian Gales;

As thou, to whom the Muse commends,
The best of Poets and of Friends,
Dost thy committed Pledge restore,
And land him safely on the Shore;
And save the better Part of Me,
From perishing with Him at Sea.

Sure He, who first the Passage try'd,
In harden'd Oak his Heart did hide,
And Ribs of Iron arm'd his Side!
Or his at least, in hollow Wood
Who tempted first the briny Flood;
Nor fear'd the Winds contending Roar,
Nor Billows beating on the Shore;
Nor Hyades, portending Rain,
Nor all the Tyrants of the Main.
What Form of Death could him affright,
Who unconcern'd, with stedfast Sight,
Could view the Surges mounting Steep,
And Monsters rolling in the Deep;
Could through the Ranks of Ruin go,
With Storms above, and Rocks below!

In vain did Nature's wise Commmand
Divide the Waters from the Land,

If daring Ships, and Men prophane,
Invade th'inviolable Main;
Th'eternal Fences overleap,
And pass at Will the boundless Deep.

No Toil, no Hardship, can restrain
Ambitious Man inur'd to Pain;
The more confin'd, the more he tries,
And at forbidden Quarry flies.

Thus bold Prometheus did aspire,
And stole from Heav'n the Seeds of Fire:
A Train of Ills, a ghastly Crew,
The Robber's blazing Track pursue;
Fierce Famine, with her meager Face,
And Fevers of the fiery Race,
In Swarms th'offending Wretch surround,
All brooding on the blasted Ground;
And limping Death, lash'd on by Fate,
Comes up to shorten half our Date.

This made not Dædalus beware,
With borrow'd Wings to sail in Air.
To Hell Alcides forc'd his Way,
Plung'd thro' the Lake, and snatch'd the Prey.
Nay scarce the Gods, or heav'nly Climes,
Are safe from our audacious Crimes;

We reach at Jove's imperial Crown,
And pull th'unwilling Thunder down.