ODE 2.

FRIEND! with a poor man's straits to fight Let warfare teach thy stalwart boy:

Let him the Parthian's front annoy With lance in rest, a dreaded knight:

Live in the field, inure his eye

To danger. From the foeman's wall May the armed tyrant's dame, with all Her damsels, gaze on him, and sigh,

"Dare not, in war unschooled, to rouse Yon Lion-whom to touch is death,

To whom red Anger ever saith, 'Slay and slay on'- prince, my spouse!"

-Honoured and blest the patriot dies.

From death the recreant may not flee:

Death shall not spare the faltering knee And coward back of him that flies.

Valour-unbeat, unsullied still

Shines with pure lustre: all too great

To seize or drop the sword of state, Swayed by a people's veering will.

Valour-to souls too great for death

Heav'n op'ning-treads the untrodden way: And this dull world, this damp cold clay, On wings of scorn, abandoneth.

-Let too the sealed lip honoured be.
The babbler, who'd the secrets tell

Of holy Ceres, shall not dwell
Where I dwell; shall not launch with me

A shallop. Heaven full many a time

Hath with the unclean slain the just:
And halting-footed Vengeance must

O'ertake at last the steps of crime.

ODE 3.

THE just man's single-purposed mind
Not furious mobs that prompt to ill
May move, nor kings' frowns shake his will
Which is as rock; not warrior winds

That keep the seas in wild unrest;

Nor bolt by Jove's own finger hurled: The fragments of a shivered world Would crash round him still self-possest.

Jove's wandering son reached, thus endowed, The fiery bastions of the skies;

Thus Pollux; with them Cæsar lies

Beside his nectar, radiant-browed.

Honoured for this, by tigers drawn

Rode Bacchus, reining necks before Untamed; for this War's horses bore Quirinus up from Acheron.

To the pleased gods had Juno said
In conclave: "Troy is in the dust;
Troy, by a judge accursed, unjust,
And that strange woman prostrated.

"The day Laomedon ignored

His god-pledged word, resigned to me
And Pallas ever pure, was she,

Her people, and their traitor lord.

66

Now the Greek woman's guilty guest Dazzles no more: Priam's perjured sons Find not against the mighty ones

Of Greece a shield in Hector's breast:

"And, long drawn out by private jars,

The war sleeps. Lo! my wrath is o'er:

And him the Trojan vestal bore (Sprung of that hated line) to Mars,

"To Mars restore I. His be rest

In halls of light: by him be drained The nectar-bowl, his place obtained In the calm companies of the blest.

"While betwixt Rome and Ilion raves

A length of ocean, where they will Rise empires for the exiles still: While Paris's and Priam's graves

"Are trod by kine, and she-wolves breed Securely there, unharmed shall stand

Rome's lustrous Capitol, her hand

Curb with proud laws the trampled Mede.

Wide-feared, to far-off climes be borne

Her story; where the central main

Europe and Libya parts in twain, Where full Nile laves a land of corn:

"The buried secret of the mine,

(Best left there) let her dare to spurn,

Nor unto man's base uses turn

Profane hands laying on things divine.

"Earth's utmost end, where'er it be,

Let her hosts reach; careering proud

O'er lands where watery rain and cloud, Or where wild suns hold revelry.