 | Lyrical Poems |  |
127
ODI PROFANUM VULGUS.
Hence ye profane, licentious throngs away!
Cease from ill-omened speech, while I, this day,
The Muse's priest, shall pour
A song unheard before,
To youths and spotless maids who own my chastened lay.
Cease from ill-omened speech, while I, this day,
The Muse's priest, shall pour
A song unheard before,
To youths and spotless maids who own my chastened lay.
Kings o'er their subject millions wield the rod;
But kings of kings must quail before the god,
Whose mighty arm o'erthrew
The rebel Titan crew,
Great Jove, who shakes sublime Olympus with his nod.
But kings of kings must quail before the god,
Whose mighty arm o'erthrew
The rebel Titan crew,
Great Jove, who shakes sublime Olympus with his nod.
This man more forest-belted roods may claim
Than that; one suitor his fair plea will frame
On lineage long and clear,
To win the popular ear;
Another on his life, and pure unspotted name
Than that; one suitor his fair plea will frame
128
To win the popular ear;
Another on his life, and pure unspotted name
Will stand; with banded clients at his gate
A third shall force the votes; but soon or late
What comes shall come to all;
One doom to great and small
Shall drop from the deep urn of still-revolving Fate.
A third shall force the votes; but soon or late
What comes shall come to all;
One doom to great and small
Shall drop from the deep urn of still-revolving Fate.
In vain Sicilian dainties goad his tongue
To a forced relish, o'er whose head is hung
The sword by one thin hair;
In vain the birds prepare
Sweet-warbled songs for him; in vain soft lyres are strung
To a forced relish, o'er whose head is hung
The sword by one thin hair;
In vain the birds prepare
Sweet-warbled songs for him; in vain soft lyres are strung
To invite sweet sleep. Sleep to the labouring man
Comes lightly woo'd, nor scorns the narrow span
That roofs the humble cot;
The shade it scorneth not,
Where Tempe's bosky banks the soft-winged Zephyrs fan.
Comes lightly woo'd, nor scorns the narrow span
That roofs the humble cot;
The shade it scorneth not,
Where Tempe's bosky banks the soft-winged Zephyrs fan.
129
Seek thou enough. The man who seeks no more
Nor turbid Hadria with enchafed roar
Shall vex, nor, when they rise,
The Kids, 'mid lowering skies,
Nor when Arcturus' fall brings winter's stormy store.
Nor turbid Hadria with enchafed roar
Shall vex, nor, when they rise,
The Kids, 'mid lowering skies,
Nor when Arcturus' fall brings winter's stormy store.
Nor blushing vineyards lashed with angry hail,
Nor cheated hopes when fairest crops shall fail,
Which or the burning star,
Or watery power did mar,
When mighty floods rolled down, and swept the corn clad vale.
Nor cheated hopes when fairest crops shall fail,
Which or the burning star,
Or watery power did mar,
When mighty floods rolled down, and swept the corn clad vale.
Vain pride! while with huge piers we block the main,
Of straitened homes the finny fish complain;
There, with his sweating bands,
The master-mason stands
Urging the work; with him the lord whose high disdain
Of straitened homes the finny fish complain;
There, with his sweating bands,
The master-mason stands
Urging the work; with him the lord whose high disdain
Scorns the dry land. But though he piles in air
Tower upon tower, pale Fear shall find him there;
Grim Terror shall bestride
The strong-beaked trireme's pride;
Behind the harnessed knight gaunt stalks the spectral Care.
Tower upon tower, pale Fear shall find him there;
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The strong-beaked trireme's pride;
Behind the harnessed knight gaunt stalks the spectral Care.
If then, nor Phrygian marble, nor the blaze
Of purple brighter than the starry rays,
Can soothe the sting of woe,
Nor Persian nard, nor glow
Of bright Falernian wines, where generous Bacchus sways;
Of purple brighter than the starry rays,
Can soothe the sting of woe,
Nor Persian nard, nor glow
Of bright Falernian wines, where generous Bacchus sways;
Why should I pile proud halls with pillars rare,
And modish pomp, to court the envious stare
Of foolish gazing men?
Why change my Sabine glen
For wealth that, got with toil, is kept with cumbrous care?
And modish pomp, to court the envious stare
Of foolish gazing men?
Why change my Sabine glen
For wealth that, got with toil, is kept with cumbrous care?
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