XXXV.

TO FORTUNE.

GODDESS, who rul'st o'er Antium the beautiful,

Pow'rful to raise up from the most abject state
This mortal mould, or into mourning

Soon to convert the most haughty triumph!

Thee doth the poor hind, tilling his glebe, implore With anxious prayers, oft: thee, ocean's mistress, too, Whoever with Bithynian vessel

Doth upon waters Carpathian venture.

Thee Dacians savage, wandering Scythians thee,
And towns and nations, Latium so warlike, too,

And mothers of barbarian kings, and

Purple-clad tyrants regard with terror,

Lest thou shouldst o'erthrow with a destructive foot

Each standing pillar: lest the close-thronging crowd

To arms, to arms th' inert should summon,

And should o'erthrow the imperial power.

Precedes thee, ever, cruel Necessity,

With rafter-spikes huge, and, in her brazen hand, Vast wedges bearing; while is absent

Neither the molten lead, nor the firm clamp.

Thee Hope and rare Faith, veiled with white robe,

attend;

Nor sweet communion doth she to thee deny,

Whene'er with changed garb thou leavest,

Hostile, those houses once great and pow'rful.

But the unfaithful crowd, and the perjured love

Withdraw; and friends, too, fly when the casks are

drained

To very dregs, each too falsehearted

Equal adversity's yoke to suffer.

Preserve thou Cæsar, now he's about to go

Against the Britons, sons most remote of earth;
And that fresh band of youthful heroes,

Unto the East, and the Red Sea fearful!

Alas! I blush for scars, and for guilty deeds,

And brothers-Stern age! what have we e'er escaped? What, impiously, have ever suffered

We unmolested: or whence refrainèd

Our youth their rash hands, moved by the fear of Gods?

What altars sparèd? Oh! that thou wouldst reforge

Our blunted steel on other anvil,

'Gainst the Massagetæ and Arabians!

XXXVI.

ON NUMIDA.

WITH the incense and lyre 'tis sweet

T'appease and with the due blood of a heifer slain—

The Gods, guardians of Numida!

Who now, safely returned from the far realms of Spain,

Amongst all his beloved friends

Many kisses divides, yet unto no one more

Than sweet Lamia: who calls to mind

How the boyhood of each passed with one mentor o'er,

And their togas together changed.

Let no day of such joy lack the white mark: produce

The jar, all without stint brought forth:

Nor rest be there of feet after the Salian use:

Nor let Damalis, wine-renowned,

O'ercome Bassus by cups such as the Thracians drain:

Nor from feasts be the rose away,

Or the parsley of late-lily of early wane!
All shall fasten their swimming eyes

Upon Damalis: nor Damalis torn will be

From her newly-found lover, now,

Clinging in an embrace, closer than ivy, she!