The Works of Horace In English Verse By several hands. Collected and Published By Mr. Duncombe. With Notes Historical and Critical |
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 | The Works of Horace In English Verse |  |
450
ODE VI. To Apollo.
O
Phœbus! whose unerring Darts,
With speedy Vengeance, pierc'd the Hearts
Of Niobe's opprobrious Crew,
And, bent on Rape, lewd Tityus slew,
And the proud Phthian Chief, whose Hand
No Trojan Hero could withstand!
Great as he was, in thee he found
A greater; prostrate on the Ground,
Like some tall Pine, which long had stood
Untouch'd, the Glory of the Wood;
Or Cypress, tow'ring o'er the Field,
By Winds or Axes forc'd to yield.
He would not in Minerva's Horse
Have basely pent the Grecian Force,
Pretending, at the parting Hour,
To pacify her wrathful Power;
Th'unguarded City to destroy,
While Priam gave a Loose to Joy:
But, in the Sun's Meridian Light,
With open Force, in generous Fight,
Had storm'd the Town! His ruthless Rage
Had doom'd to Death both Youth and Age;
And Infants, in their Mother's Womb,
Had found (O Shame!) an early Tomb,
Unless, in Pity to thy Prayers,
And lovely Cytherea's Tears,
Great Jove had to Æneas' Toil
New Walls assign'd in Latium's Soil.
O thou! who lead'st the sacred Choir
Of Greece, now tune the Daunian Lyre:
Hear, smooth Agyieus! pleas'd to lave
Thy flowing Locks in Xanthus' Wave.
With speedy Vengeance, pierc'd the Hearts
Of Niobe's opprobrious Crew,
And, bent on Rape, lewd Tityus slew,
And the proud Phthian Chief, whose Hand
No Trojan Hero could withstand!
Great as he was, in thee he found
A greater; prostrate on the Ground,
Like some tall Pine, which long had stood
Untouch'd, the Glory of the Wood;
Or Cypress, tow'ring o'er the Field,
By Winds or Axes forc'd to yield.
He would not in Minerva's Horse
Have basely pent the Grecian Force,
Pretending, at the parting Hour,
To pacify her wrathful Power;
451
While Priam gave a Loose to Joy:
But, in the Sun's Meridian Light,
With open Force, in generous Fight,
Had storm'd the Town! His ruthless Rage
Had doom'd to Death both Youth and Age;
And Infants, in their Mother's Womb,
Had found (O Shame!) an early Tomb,
Unless, in Pity to thy Prayers,
And lovely Cytherea's Tears,
Great Jove had to Æneas' Toil
New Walls assign'd in Latium's Soil.
O thou! who lead'st the sacred Choir
Of Greece, now tune the Daunian Lyre:
Hear, smooth Agyieus! pleas'd to lave
Thy flowing Locks in Xanthus' Wave.
To the two Choirs.
By Phœbus' heavenly Aid I claimMy Genius, and a Poet's Name.
Illustrious Maids! who Rome adorn,
And Youths! of noble Parents born,
Whom Delia (with unerring Bow
Skilful to pierce the Lynx or Doe,)
452
To my Advice with Care attend!
Keep Measure with the Lesbian Foot,
And to my Lyre your Voices suit!
If with due Rites Latona's Son,
And Night's fair Lamp, th'increasing Moon,
Powerful to bless the springing Ground,
And swift to roll the Seasons round,
You sing devout; in holy Bands
Each Maid shall join her plighted Hands,
And married boast, ‘When festal Days
‘Began this Age, I join'd in Praise
‘Of all the Gods; well-skill'd to sing
‘Notes fitted to th'Horatian String.’
| The Works of Horace In English Verse | |