Odes by Horace

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Come down, Calliope, from above:

Breathe on the pipe a strain of fire;

Or if a graver note thou love,

With Phoebus' cittern and his lyre.

You hear her? or is this the play

Of fond illusion? Hark! meseems

Through gardens of the good I stray,

'Mid murmuring gales and purling streams.

Me, as I lay on Vultur's steep,

A truant past Apulia's bound,

O'ertired, poor child, with play and sleep,

With living green the stock-doves crown'd--

legend, nay, a miracle,
By Acherontia's nestlings told,

By all in Bantine glade that dwell,

Or till the rich Forentan mould.

"Bears, vipers, spared him as he lay,

The sacred garland deck'd his hair,

The myrtle blended with the bay:

The child's inspired: the gods were there."

Your grace, sweet Muses, shields me still

On Sabine heights, or lets me range

Where cool Praeneste, Tibur's hill,

Or liquid Baiae proffers change.

Me to your springs, your dances true,

Philippi bore not to the ground,

Nor the doom'd tree in falling slew,

Nor billowy Palinurus drown'd.

Grant me your presence, blithe and fain

Mad Bosporus shall my bark explore;

My foot shall tread the sandy plain

That glows beside Assyria's shore;

'Mid Briton tribes, the stranger's foe,

And Spaniards, drunk with horses' blood,

And quiver'd Scythians, will I go

Unharm'd, and look on Tanais' flood.

When Caesar's self in peaceful town

The weary veteran's home has made,

You bid him lay his helmet down

And rest in your Pierian shade.

Mild thoughts you plant, and joy to see

Mild thoughts take root. The nations know

How with descending thunder He

The impious Titans hurl'd below,

Who rules dull earth and stormy seas,

And towns of men, and realms of pain,

And gods, and mortal companies,

Alone, impartial in his reign.

Yet Jove had fear'd the giant rush,

Their upraised arms, their port of pride,

And the twin brethren bent to push

Huge Pelion up Olympus' side.

But Typhon, Mimas, what could these,

Or what Porphyrion's stalwart scorn,

Rhoetus, or he whose spears were trees,

Enceladus, from earth uptorn,

As on they rush'd in mad career

'Gainst Pallas' shield? Here met the foe

Fierce Vulcan, queenly Juno here,

And he who ne'er shall quit his bow,

Who laves in clear Castalian flood

His locks, and loves the leafy growth

Of Lycia next his native wood,

The Delian and the Pataran both.

Strength, mindless, falls by its own weight;

Strength, mix'd with mind, is made more strong

By the just gods, who surely hate

The strength whose thoughts are set on wrong.

Let hundred-handed Gyas bear

His witness, and Orion known

Tempter of Dian, chaste and fair,

By Dian's maiden dart o'erthrown.

Hurl'd on the monstrous shapes she bred,

Earth groans, and mourns her children thrust

To Orcus; Aetna's weight of lead

Keeps down the fire that breaks its crust;

Still sits the bird on Tityos' breast,

The warder of unlawful love;

Still suffers lewd Pirithous, prest

By massive chains no hand may move.

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