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ODE V. To Augustus.

Guardian of Rome, from Heroes sprung!
Why must you be abroad so long?
The Senate for your Absence mourns:
Cæsar's unjust till he returns.
Ah! quickly come, and with you bring
A brighter Sun, a brighter Spring:
Plenty and Mirth with you appear,
The World looks gay, when you are here.
As a fond Mother for her Son,
When out at Sea, begins her Moan,
Whom the rough Winds and stormy Main
Beyond his promis'd Year detain;
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For him she wishes, longs and prays,
And full of Hope the Shore surveys:
With the same eager, fond Desires,
His Rome her absent Lord requires.
When Cæsar's here, our Flocks are safe,
Our Fields with Plenty smile and laugh;
No Tempests on the Ocean roar,
No Treachery infests the Shore.
No Rapes invade the Chaste and Good,
Whilst Vice by Justice is subdu'd;
Paternal Virtues grace our Sons,
And Vengeance every Crime atones.
Who dreads the Gete, or Parthian Foe,
Or Germans terrible in Show,
Or all the warlike Pow'rs of Spain,
Whilst Cæsar does in Safety reign?
Each Roman Swain securely joins
The widow'd Elms, and curling Vines;
There drinks all Day, with Plenty bless'd;
The Gods and Cæsar crown the Feast.
To him our Wine and Vows we pour;
Him with our Lares we adore:
No Greeks with greater Zeal proclaim
Their Hercules, or Castor's Name.
Return, Great Cæsar, and bring home
A lasting Festival to Rome:
Thee, Drunk and Sober, Night and Day,
Thee we invoke, to Thee we pray.
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