To Himself. Ode XXXIV.
He seems troubled after some Prodigies, that following the Epicureans, he had less devoutly served the Gods.
I of the Gods late slothful Worshipper,
Whilst Frantick stray'd through sensual Wisdom far
Am compelled mow, by force,
To turn my Sails and former course
To steer again: for th' Author of the Light,
Rending thick Clouds with fiery Flash and bright,
Charret oft through purest Air
Hath drove with thundring Steeds held rare:
Whilst stupid Earth and wandring streams did quake;
Yea th' horrid Doors of Tenarus dire Lake,
Sticks beneath, with Atlas-bound.
God can exchange base things from ground,
With most sublime; does draw forth things obscure
Whilst darkens splendid Ones, their heights unsure:
Fortune oft with mournful noise
Robs these, gives those a favour'd Choice.
