THE SECULAR ODE.
By William Duncombe, Esq;
Choir of Youths and Virgins
Phœbus!
and Cynthia o'er the Chace
Presiding; Heaven's eternal Grace!
Whom as past Times, the future shall adore,
Grant what, this sacred Season, we implore!
Now when the Sibyl's Lines command,
That Youths and Maids, a chosen Band!
Shall to the Gods, whom our seven Hills delight,
A choral Hymn alternately recite.
Choir of Youths.
Indulgent Sun! whose various Ray
Now spreads, and now withdraws the Day,
Another and the same; may Years to come
No Prospect yield thee more august than Rome!
Choir of Virgins.
Your Aid, mild Ilithyia, give
To Matrons, and their Pangs relieve;
Whether you chuse Lucina for your Name,
Or rather that of Genetyllis claim.
To pregnant Wives give large Increase;
The Laws that favour Wedlock bless,
Those Laws (ordain'd to multiply our Race)
Which Fathers with peculiar Honours grace.
Both Choirs.
Oft as th'allotted Term of Years
Returns, and a new Age appears,
May it restore such grateful Songs and Plays
Three shining Nights, and three distinguish'd Days
Ye Parcæ, whose resistless Will
Events infallibly fulfill;
Whose Word once spoke immutable shall last,
With future Blessings still improve the past.
Let Earth, with Corn and Flocks o'erspread,
Weave yellow Wreaths for Ceres' Head:
Let wholesome Streams, sweet Air, and grassy Food,
Cherish the Herds, the Flocks, and tender Brood.
Choir of Youths.
With Bow unstrung, and favouring Ear,
Kindly the suppliant Youths, Apollo! hear.
Choir of Virgins.
Horn'd Queen of Stars! the Maids attend,
Who to thy Throne, with humble Homage, bend.
Both Choirs.
If Rome was rear'd by your Command;
If Trojans sought th'Etruscan Land,
Enjoin'd by You to leave their native Shore,
And foreign Realms, with prosperous Course, explore;
Whom safely through devouring Flame,
The Chief, immortaliz'd by Fame,
Led to a fairer Soil, a happier Coast,
A nobler Empire than in Troy they lost:
Let Youth with Probity be blest!
To Age, ye Gods! give needful Rest;
And crown the Romans with a numerous Race,
With large Increase of Wealth, and every Grace!
Let Cæsar in his Vows succeed,
Who bids the milk-white Victims bleed;
Cæsar, who triumphs o'er his stubborn Foes,
But generous Mercy to the Suppliant shows.
The Mede now fears, by Sea and Land,
Th'Albanian Axe, and Cæsar's Hand:
Scythians, and Indians, late so haughty, wait
From Rome's rever'd Decrees to learn their Fate.
Now Honour, Truth, and ancient Shame,
And Peace, our savage Passions tame:
Virtue unveils her Face, secure from Scorn,
And Plenty scatters Fruits with plenteous Horn.
Choir of Youths.
The Prophet-God, with golden Bow,
Dear to the Nine, who well can show
The healing Power of every Herb and Plant,
And sprightly Health to languid Mortals grant;
If he survey with gracious Eye
His own high Towers, which pierce the Sky,
Will add fresh Glories to our envy'd Name,
And spread, from Age to Age, the Roman Fame!
Choir of Virgins.
Cynthia (ador'd on Aventine
And Algidus) with Looks benign
Regards these Rites; the priestly Vows receives,
And what we beg, with kind Indulgence gives.
Both Choirs.
EPILOGUE.
We, who have sung in sacred Lays
Apollo's and Diana's Praise,
Will home return with just Presage, that Jove
Allows our Prayers, and all the Powers above.
The END of the Secular Ode.
