University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
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
  

collapse sectionI. 
  
collapse section 
collapse section1. 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
Ode XII. Hymn to Jove.
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
collapse section2. 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
collapse section3. 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
collapse section4. 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XIII. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
  
collapse section 
  
  
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
collapse sectionII. 
collapse section 
collapse section1. 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
collapse section2. 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 VI. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
collapse section 
collapse section1. 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
collapse section2. 
 I. 
 II. 
  


49

Ode XII. Hymn to Jove.

What Man, what Hero, on the tuneful Lyre,
Or sharp-ton'd Flute, will Clio chuse to raise
Deathless to Fame? What God? whose hallow'd Name
The sportive Image of the Voice
Shall through the Shades of Helicon resound,
On Pindus, or on Hæmus ever cool,
From whence the Forests in Confusion wild
To vocal Orpheus urg'd their Way;
Who by his Mother's Art, harmonious Muse,
With soft Delay could stop the falling Streams,
And winged Winds; with Strings of Concert sweet
Powerful the listening Oaks to lead.
Claims not th'eternal Sire his wonted Praise?
Awful who reigns o'er Gods and Men supreme,
Who Sea and Earth and universal Globe
With grateful Change of Seasons rules;

51

From whom no Being of superiour Power,
Nothing of equal, second Glory springs,
Yet first of all his Progeny divine
Immortal Honours Pallas claims:
God of the Vine in Deeds of Valour bold,
Fair Virgin-Huntress of the savage Race,
And Phœbus, dreadful with unerring Dart,
Nor will I not your Praise proclaim.
Alcides' Labours, and fair Leda's Twins
Fam'd for the rapid Race, for Wrestling fam'd,
Shall grace my Song; soon as whose Star benign
Through the fierce Tempest shines serene,
Swift from the Rocks down foams the broken Surge,
Hush'd fall the Winds, the driving Clouds disperse,
And all the threatening Waves, so will the Gods,
Smooth sink upon the peaceful Deep.
Here stops the Song, doubtful whom next to praise,
Or Romulus, or Numa's peaceful Reign,
The haughty Ensigns of Tarquinius' Throne,
Or Cato, glorious in his Fall.

53

Grateful in higher Tone the Muse shall sing
The Fate of Regulus, the Scaurian Race,
And Paulus, 'midst the Waste of Cannæ's Field
How greatly prodigal of Life!
Form'd by the Hand of Penury severe
In Dwellings suited to their small Demaine,
Fabricius, Curius, and Camillus rose;
To Deeds of martial Glory rose.
Marcellus, like a youthful Tree of Growth
Insensible, high shoots his spreading Fame,
And like the Moon, the feebler Fires among,
Conspicuous shines the Julian Star,

55

Saturnian Jove, Parent and Guardian God
Of human Race, to Thee the Fates assign
The Care of Cæsar's Reign; to thine alone
Inferiour let his Empire rise;
Whether the Parthian's formidable Powers,
Or farthest India's oriental Sons,
With suppliant Pride beneath his Triumph fall,
Wide o'er a willing World shall He
Contented reign, and to thy Throne shall bend
Submissive. Thou in thy tremendous Car
Shalt shake Olympus' Head, and at our Groves
Polluted, hurl thy dreadful Bolts.