Classic Poem

Thou Appian Way, of all our roads the queen,
Whom Caesar hallows as Alcides seen,
If thou wouldst know the toils of Hercules,
Hark to the tale and listen — they are these.
He killed the Libyan, won the fruit of gold,
And took her girdle from the Amazon bold;
The lion and the Arcadian boar he slew,
Nor let the hydra's heads spring forth anew;
The brazen stag, the birds of Stymphalus,
He drove away, from hell dragged Cerberus,
And to the Tiber Geryon's cattle brought:
These are the deeds the lesser hero wrought.
Now for the greater god: his exploits hear
Whom the sixth stone from Alba doth revere.
The Palatine he saved from ruthless lords
And for his god in boyhood crushed their swords.
Then when alone he'd gained the sovranty
He gave it up, consenting third to be.
Three times he's humbled northern Hister's brow,
And three times bathed his steeds in Getic snow,
And takes a victor's name from Arctic skies,
Albeit he scorns these easy victories.
Peace, morals, stars, divinities to heaven,
Temples to gods, and wreaths to Jove, he's given.
For him Alcides must too puny prove;
Come now, our god; appears as father Jove.