Ode III.
The virtuous Man fears nothing: Juno's Oration of the fall of Troy, and Roman Empire rising from it.
The just liv'd Man, grown firm unchanged still,
Nor People's hear (when lawless Acts doth will)
Ought can shake his solid Mind;
Nor urgent Tyrant's look, southwind,
That blustring Lord o'th' restless Adrian Main;
Nor JOVE'S great hand when Thunder tears the Plain;
Though the Worlds crack'd frame should fall,
That Ruine strike undaunted shall.
Trusting this vertuous art, Pollux admir'd,
And Hercules to th' Starry Tow'rs aspir'd;
Between which pair AUGUSTUS grac'd,
With rosie Lip doth Nectar tast.
Tigers this way, deserving BACCHUS, thee
Transfer'd to Heav'n, whose necks (ungovern'd, free)
Bare the Yoak: Romulus gone,
By Mars his Steeds scap'd Acheron.
Which JUNO mov'd, as grateful thing, with joy;
To th' Councel of Gods thus spoke: Troy, pompous Troy,
Fatal Judge unchast, unwise,
And forrain Woman brought for Prize
Convert to Dust; from th' time Laomedon
Broke promise with those Gods; condemned Town
That with its Captain false by me,
Minerva prov'd; for vengeance free.
Now neither shines that Guest admir'd to th' fair,
Spartan Adulteress; nor strength though rare
Hector thought, strong Grecian Bands
Sunk Priam's perjur'd House withstands.
Which War, fomented by our fierce Desires,
Hath found a Close; thus done my angry fire;
Loathed Grandchild ROMULUS,
Whom Trojan Priestess bare to us,
To MARS my Son his Sire I leave, inclin'd,
That he shall drink (for our bright Seats design'd)
Nectar-juice; place firmly hold,
'Mongst number of the Gods inroll'd.
What time that long and mighty Sea doth rage
'Twixt Troy and Rome, let Trojans blest each Age
(Banish'd though) rule every where;
So Priam, Paris Tombs may bear.
Insulting Heards and Beasts those Vales command,
Lodg close their Cubs, secure; let shining stand
The Capitol; fierce Rome as head
Give Medians laws, in triumph led.
Name, far most horrid grown, let this extend
To th' utmost Coasts, where midland-sea doth rend
Europe from burnt Africk shore;
What fields swoln Nyle doth wander o're.
Rome stronger term'd, since rather can despise
Earth-bury'd Gold (whilst dark concealed lies)
Then forc'd for humane use to bring,
With hands that grasp each sacred thing.
What bound soere o'th' World, South, Northern Pole
Let Rome make feel her Arms, bent to controul;
What way the Sun with fires doth rave,
Or Clouds and Frosts their dwellings have.
But conquering Fates be thus by me divin'd
To th' Roman Troops, if over-pious, kind
(Too proudly swell'd) they don't to view
Troy's antient Cynder-tow'rs renew:
Troy born again, with dismal Omen thus
Reviv'd, shall prove again destroy'd by us;
Led by me Triumphant Hoast,
Who as JOVE'S Wife, and Sister boast.
Should Walls of brass, strong PHÆBUS Author found,
Thrice rise by turns, thrice should those beat the Ground
By Greeks and Spouses pris'ners led
Thrice mourn for Husbands, Children dead.
But solemn Thinge scarce sportive Harp do fit:
Muse, whither run'st? chant not with bouldest Wit
High Parleys of the Gods, nor wrong
Great things through small-composed Song.
