Thinn'd by their parents' crimes, our youth shall hear
How Roman against Roman bared the blade,
Which the fierce Persian fitlier low had laid,
Shall hear, how kin met kin in conflict drear.

What god shall we, to save the state from doom,
Importune; by what pray'r shall virgins pure
Their Vesta's ear so long regardless lure,
To listen to their quirèd hymns? To whom

Will Jove assign the office and the might

To expiate our guilt? Oh, to our pray'r, Augur Apollo, here at length repair, Veiling in clouds thy shoulders ivory-white!

Or, laughing Erycina, round whose head
Boy Cupid flits and Mirth on airy wing ;*
Or, on thine outcast sons if thou dost fling
Some kindly glances, thou, our Founder dread,

Sated, alas! with war's too lengthen'd sport!

Who joy'st in gleaming helms, and battle's roar, And, foot to foot with foemen dyed in gore, The Marsian's flashing eye, and fateful port!

Or else do thou, sweet Maia's winged child,

Doffing the God, descend to earth, and wear The form of youth, Cæsar's avenger, there While thou abid'st, submitting to be styled!

* And all about her neck and shoulders flew
A flock of little Loves and Sports and Joys,
With nimble wings of gold and purple hue.
SPENSER'S Fairy Queen, IV. x. 42.

Long, long to heav'n be thy return delay'd,

Long, long may'st thou well pleased beside us stay,

And no fell air waft thee from earth away At our dark crimes indignant and dismay'd!

Rather lead mighty triumphs, here as now,
Joy to be call'd our Prince and Father here,
Nor let the Median unchastised career

Where Romans sway, our leader, Cæsar, thou!

ODE III.

TO THE SHIP IN WHICH VIRGIL WAS ABOUT TO

IA

SAIL FOR GREECE.

AY the great goddess-queen of Cyprus isle,

And Helen's brothers, those twin cressets fair, And he that rules the winds, propitious smile, Chaining them all save zephyr in their lair, Thy course, oh bark, directing so, that thou May'st waft in safety to Athene's shore My Virgil, to thy care entrusted now,

And to its love my soul's dear half restore!

In oak or triple brass his breast was mail'd,
Who first committed to the ruthless deep
His fragile skiff, nor inly shrank and quail'd,
To hear the headlong Afric fiercely sweep,
With northern blasts to wrestle and to rave,

Nor fear'd to face the tristful Hyades,
And Notus tyrant of the Adrian wave,

That lifts, or calms at will the restless seas.*

What form of death could daunt his soul, who view'd
Ocean's dread shapes, nor turn'd his eyes away,

Its surging waves, and with disaster strew'd
Thy fated rocks, Acroceraunia?

*First came great Neptune with his three-fork'd mace,
That rules the seas, and makes them rise or fall.

Fairy Queen, IV. ii. 2.

Vainly hath Jove in wisdom land from land
By seas dissever'd wild and tempest-toss'd,
If vessels bound, despite his high command,
O'er waters purposed never to be cross'd.

Presumptuous man, in insolence of soul,

Sweeps to his aim through sacrilege and crime; Heaven's fire for us the bold Prometheus stole

By fraud unhallow'd in the olden time; Then wasting agues, hectic fevers smote

The earth, and hosts of newborn terrors spread; And Death, till then forgetful and remote, Quicken'd his slow, inevitable tread!

On wings that were forbid to mortals durst
Vain Dædalus to cleave the void of air;
Through fateful Acheron Alcides burst:
Nought is too arduous for man to dare.
In our unbounded folly we aspire

To heaven itself; and such our guilty pride,
We will not let great Jove forget his ire,

Nor lay his vengeful thunderbolts aside.

ODE IV.

TO SESTIUS.

OW biting Winter fled, sweet Spring is come instead, And barks long stranded high and dry put out again from shore;

Now the ox forsakes his byre, and the husbandman his fire, And daisy-dappled meadows bloom where winter frosts lay hoar.*

By Cytherea led, while the moon shines overhead,

The Nymphs and Graces, hand-in-hand, with alternating feet

Shake the ground, while swinking Vulcan strikes the sparkles fierce and red

From the forges of the Cyclops, with reiterated beat.

"Tis the time with myrtle green to bind our glistening locks, Or with flowers, wherein the loosen'd earth herself hath

newly dress'd,

And to sacrifice to Faunus in some glade amidst the rocks A yearling lamb, or else a kid, if such delight him best.

Joyous, the impatient husbandman perceives

Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers

Drives from their stalls, to where the well-used plough

Lies in the furrow, loosened from the frost.

THOMSON'S Seasons. Spring.