 | The odes, epodes and Carmen Seculare of Horace (1719) |  |
102
ODE VI. To Apollo.
By Thee, great God! for Lust and Pride,
Fam'd Niobe and Tityos dy'd;
Achilles to thy Valour bow'd,
E'er Troy was by his Arms subdu'd:
Fam'd Niobe and Tityos dy'd;
Achilles to thy Valour bow'd,
E'er Troy was by his Arms subdu'd:
Born of the Goddess of the Sea,
He found no Match in Arms, but Thee;
Troy's Walls oft trembled at his Spear,
And every Trojan Heart with Fear:
He found no Match in Arms, but Thee;
Troy's Walls oft trembled at his Spear,
And every Trojan Heart with Fear:
Yet like a Pine he tumbled down,
Or Cypress by a Storm o'erthrown;
And lay extended on the Plain,
In Phrygian Dust by Phœbus slain:
Or Cypress by a Storm o'erthrown;
And lay extended on the Plain,
In Phrygian Dust by Phœbus slain:
He scorn'd all Arts but open Force,
A holy Cheat, or treacherous Horse;
Nor would by any false Disguise,
Amidst their Mirth, his Foes surprize;
A holy Cheat, or treacherous Horse;
Nor would by any false Disguise,
Amidst their Mirth, his Foes surprize;
But met the Trojans in the Field,
And there without Distinction kill'd:
With Fire and Sword pursu'd them home,
And burnt the Infant in the Womb.
And there without Distinction kill'd:
With Fire and Sword pursu'd them home,
And burnt the Infant in the Womb.
At length to Venus and to Thee,
Jove stoop'd, and fix'd the firm Decree,
Æneas with a better Fate
Should found a greater nobler State.
Jove stoop'd, and fix'd the firm Decree,
Æneas with a better Fate
Should found a greater nobler State.
Sweet Master of the tuneful Nine!
Whose Locks, when wash'd in Xanthus, shine;
To Me and my Apulian Muse,
No Aid, nor Guardian Care refuse.
Whose Locks, when wash'd in Xanthus, shine;
To Me and my Apulian Muse,
No Aid, nor Guardian Care refuse.
103
For You to me my Fame impart,
My Genius, and my vocal Art:
The Nymphs and Youths from Nobles sprung,
With Raptures, listen to my Song.
My Genius, and my vocal Art:
The Nymphs and Youths from Nobles sprung,
With Raptures, listen to my Song.
Them chaste Diana guards, and loves
More than the Bow, the Chace, and Groves;
And they shall favour and admire
My suppliant Strains, and tuneful Lyre.
More than the Bow, the Chace, and Groves;
And they shall favour and admire
My suppliant Strains, and tuneful Lyre.
They shall extol Latona's Son,
And praise the bright increasing Moon;
By whom the Months their Courses steer,
And Fruits adorn the smiling Year.
And praise the bright increasing Moon;
By whom the Months their Courses steer,
And Fruits adorn the smiling Year.
The young Imperial Bride shall say;
I sung a solemn Ode to day
By Horace made, a famous Bard;
My Song the Gods with Pleasure heard.
I sung a solemn Ode to day
By Horace made, a famous Bard;
My Song the Gods with Pleasure heard.
| The odes, epodes and Carmen Seculare of Horace (1719) | |