ODE III.
[So may the queen of Cyprus' isle]
He prays that the ship may have a good passage, which
was about to carry Virgil to Athens: after which he,
with great spirit inveighs against the temerity of mankind.
So may the queen of Cyprus' isle
And Helen's brethren in sweet star-light smile,
And Æolus the winds arrest,
All but the fav'ring gales of fresh north-west,
O ship, that ow'st so great a debt,
No less than
Virgil, to our fond regret!
By thee on yon Athenian shore
Let him be safely landed, I implore:
And o'er the billows, as they roll,
Preserve the larger portion of my soul!
A heart of oak, and breast of brass
Were his, who first presum'd on seas to pass,
And ever ventur'd to engage,
In a slight skiff, with ocean's desperate rage;
Nor fear'd to hear the cracking masts,
When Africus contends with northern blasts;
Nor Hyads, still foreboding storms,
Nor wrathful south, that all the depth deforms;
Than whom no greater tyrant reigns
Whether the waves he ruffles or restrains.
How dauntless of all death was he,
Whose tearless eyes could such strange monsters see;
Cou'd see the swelling ocean low'r,
Or those huge rocks, which in Epirus tow'r!
Dread Providence the land in vain
Has cut from that dissociable main,
If impious mortals not the less
On this forbidden element transgress:
Determin'd each extreme to bear,
All desp'rate deeds the race of mortals dare.
Prometheus, with presumptuous fraud,
Stole fire from heav'n, and spread the flame abroad,
Of which dire sacrilege the fruit,
The lank consumption, and a new recruit
Of fevers came upon mankind,
And for a long delay at first design'd,
The last extremity advanc'd,
And urg'd the march of death, and all his pangs inhanc'd,
With wings, not giv'n a man below,
Did Dedalus attempt in air to go.
Th'Herculean toil, exceeding bound,
Broke through the gulf of Acheron profound.
Nothing too difficult for man,
He'll scale the skies in folly, if he can;
Nor by his vices every day
Will give Jove leave his wrathful bolts to stay.
