Classic Poem

What man or hero, Clio, wilt thou praise
With the shrill pipe or with thy sounding lyre?
Or say what god? whose name wilt thou shall bring
Sport-loving Echo

From Helicon's umbrageous shadows deep,
Or Pindus' heights, or Hemos' frigid bounds?
From whence the woods, in haste, impetuous rushed
Following Orpheus,

Who by maternal art the swift winds held,
And stopped the rushing rivers' rapid fall,
When by his warbling lutes so sweetly played
Oaks list'ning led he.

Whose wonted praises should I sooner sound
Than Jove's, who rules the sea, the land, the world;
Who governs men and gods while ceaseless roll
Varying seasons?

Than him is nothing greater born nor made;
None like unto, nor second place doth hold;
But nearest among all, alone, hath worn
Pallas her honors.

Not Bacchus bold will I in silence pass;
Diana chaste, of savage beasts the foe;
Nor fear-impelling Phœbus, prompt to dart
Death-dealing arrows.

Nor Hercules, nor Leda's noble boys;
One, fame with fists, and one with horses wins.
If but above the sailor's head there shines
Gemini's brightness,

The driving surges cease the rocks to beat,
The raging winds are hushed, the clouds disperse;
The threatening wave (the gods so will)
Sinks on the ocean.

I doubt if Romulus should next be named;
Or Numa's peaceful reign, or Tarquin proud;
Or should that noble death be first proclaimed,
Thine, princely Cato?

Regulus; the Scauri; Paulus, too, who fell,
Lavish of his great soul, when Carthage won;
These, gratefully, with worthy song I name;
Also Fabricius,

He and Curius with the unkempt locks;
Camillus, who saved Rome: these all were reared
In poverty, and trained to war amid
Humble surroundings.

Even as a tree, Marcellus' fame shall grow
In unknown years: and, as fair Luna beams
Among the lesser lights, the Julian Star
Shines among all men.

Father and Guardian of the human race,
From Saturn sprung! great Cæsar to thy care
The Fates entrust. Thy reign shall be supreme;
Cæsar is second.

Whether he drive the threatening Parthian host
With a just triumph from Italia's shores;
Or subjugate beneath the eastern skies
Ceres or Indian,

He, to thee subject, justly rules the world.
Thou with thy chariot shalt Olympus shake,
When, 'gainst our groves profaned, in direful wrath,
Thunderbolts hurling.