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A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace

With the Original Text, and Critical Notes collected from his best Latin and French Commentators. By the Revd Mr. Philip Francis...The third edition
  

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9

Ode II. To Augustus.

Enough of Snow, and Hail, th'immortal Sire
Hath pour'd tempestuous; whilst his Thunders dire,
With red right Arm at his own Temples hurl'd,
With Fear and Horrour shook the guilty World,
Lest Pyrrha's Age return, with plaintive Cries
Who saw the Deep with new-born Wonders rise;
When to the Mountain-Summit Proteus drove
His Sea-born Herd, and where the Wood-land Dove
Late perch'd, his wonted Seat, the scaly Brood
Entangled hung upon the topmost Wood,
And every timorous Native of the Plain
High-floating swam amid the boundless Main.

11

We saw, push'd backward to his native Source,
The yellow Tiber roll his rapid Course,
With impious Ruin threatning Vesta's Fane,
And the great Monuments of Numa's Reign;
With Grief and Rage while Ilia's Bosom glows,
Boastful, for her Revenge, his Waters rose,
But now, th'uxorious River glides away,
So Jove commands, smooth-winding to the Sea:
And yet, less numerous by their Parents' Crimes,
Our Sons shall hear, shall hear to latest Times,
Of Roman Arms with civil Gore embru'd,
Which better had the Persian Foe subdu'd.
Whom of her Guardian Gods, what pitying Pow'r,
To raise her sinking State shall Rome implore?
Shall her own hallow'd Virgin's earnest Prayer
Harmonious charm offended Vesta's Ear?

13

To whom shall Jove assign to purge away
The guilty Deed? Appear thou God of Day,
But gracious veil thy Shoulders beamy-bright,
Oh! veil in Clouds th'unsufferable Light:
Or may we rather thy Protection claim,
Sicilian Venus, Laughter-loving Dame,
Round whom gay Jocus, and the God of Love,
Wave the light Wing, and hovering playful rove?
Or whom the polish'd Helm, the Noise of Arms,
And the stern Soldier's Frown with Transport warms,
Parent of Rome, amid the Rage of Fight
Sated with Scenes of Blood, thy fierce Delight!
Hither at length thine Aspect gracious bend,
And, powerful, thy neglected Race defend:
Or Thou, fair Maia's winged Son, appear,
And mortal Shape, in Prime of Manhood, wear;
Declar'd the Guardian of th'imperial State,
Divine Avenger of great Cæsar's Fate:

15

Oh! late return to Heav'n, and may thy Reign
With lengthen'd Blessings fill thy wide Demaine;
Nor let thy People's Crimes provoke thy Flight,
On Air swift-rising to the Realms of Light.
Great Prince and Father of the State, receive
The noblest Triumphs, which thy Rome can give;
Nor let the Parthian, with unpunish'd Pride,
Beyond his Bounds, O Cæsar, dare to ride.