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النشر الإلكتروني

ODE 28.

TO ARCHYTAS.

MEASURER of earth and ocean and the multitudi

nous sand, Scant the grains of tributary dust, Lack whereof, Archytas, holds thee captive on Apu

lia's strand. Vainly in his wisdom did he trust, Who could journey disembodied o'er the firmament,

and stand At the gates of heaven; for die he must. · Perished thus the sire of Pelops, messmate of the

gods above: Thus Tithonus, caught into the air: Minos too, the man admitted to the hidden things

of Jove. Panthous' son himself is prisoner there

In those shades-twice doomed to Orcus: tho’ the

letters on the shield Proved how he had lived in Ilion's day, Nor had aught, save skin and sinew, unto grim

death deigned to yield. No mean scholar he, e'en thou would'st say, In the lore of truth and nature. But the fate of

all is sealed : All must tread, unlighted, death's highway. - Into grisly War's arena some are by the Furies

flung: 'Neath the hungry sea-wave some lie dead : Fused in undistinguished slaughter die the old man

and the young : Spares not Hell's fierce queen a single head. Me too westward-bound Orion's constant mate, the

South-west-wind, Whelmed but lately in the Illyrian wave: And, oh mariner, deny not-to a dead man's bones

unkind, And a head that must not own a graveOne scant heap of homeless sea-sand. So whene'er

the Eastern gale

Chides the South seas, may his fury lay Green Etruria's woods in ruin, sparing thee: so

many a bale Drop to thee, whence only drop it may, From great Jove, and Neptune watching o'er Ta

rentum's holy soil. -Wilt commit, unrecking, an offence Which shall harm thy innocent offspring? On thine

own head may recoil Righteous vengeance, and a recompense That shall bow thy pride. Abandoned, unavenged,

I will not be:
For suck 'crime no offerings shall atone.
Though mayhap thy time is precious, small the boon

I ask of thee:
Throw three handfuls o'er me, and begone.

ODE 38.

TO HIS SLAVE.

PERSIAN grandeur I abhor;

Linden-wreathèd crowns, avaunt: Boy, I bid thee not explore

Woods which latest roses haunt:

Try on naught thy busy craft

Save plain myrtle ; so arrayed Thou shalt fetch, I drain, the draught

Fitliest 'neath the scant vine-shade.

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I SCORN and shun the rabble's noise.

Abstain from idle talk. A thing

That ear hath not yet heard, I sing, The Muses' priest, to maids and boys.

To Jove the flocks which great kings sway,

To Jove great kings allegiance owe.

Praise him: he laid the giants low : All things that are, his nod obey.

This man may plant in broader lines

His fruit-trees : that, the pride of race

Enlists a candidate for place :
In worth, in fame, a third outshines

His mates; or, thronged with clients, claims

Precedence. Even-handed Fate

Hath but one law for small and great : That ample urn holds all men's names.

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