No Coan purple can to you restore,
No sparkling jewelry the days of yore

Which once by flitting time within

The public rolls interred have been. Where has your beauty fled? that hue, ah! where? And grace of movement ? what have you of her,

Of her who, love-inspiring, aye

Could tear me from myself away? Next after Cinara gifted, was she known For graciousness of face, but fate upon

My Cinara bestowed scant strip

Of life, intending long to keep
Lyce to match the aged raven's years;
So that, and not without abundant jeers,

Our amorous youth might see to white
Ashes reduced her torch's light.

The Latin superscription of this Ode sufficiently indicates that its

real object was the praise of Augustus, to which the part taken by Tiberius, together with Drusus, in the victories over the German tribes, is made subservient. For the circumstances in which it was written, see prefatory note to Ode 4 of this Book.

How shall the senate's or the people's care,
Awarding amplest honours, with decree
Of titles and memorial rolls, declare
Thy virtue's fame throughout eternity,
Oh! thou Augustus, greatest prince of all
Who the illuminating day-star see
Circling around this habitable ball ?

Nec Coae referunt jam tibi purpurae,
Nec clari lapides, tempora, quae semel
Notis condita fastis

Inclusit volucris dies.
Quo fugit Venus? heu, quove color? decens
Quo motus ? quid habes illius, illius,
Quae spirabat amores,

Quae me surpuerat mihi ?
Felix post Cinaram, notaque et artium
Gratarum facies ? Sed Cinarae breves
Annos fata dederunt,

Servatura diu parem
Cornicis vetulae temporibus Lycen,
Possent ut juvenes visere fervidi,
Multo non sine risu,

Dilapsam in cineres facem.

XIV. AD AUGUSTUM.

QUAE cura patrum, quaeve Quiritium,
Plenis honorum muneribus tuas,
Auguste, virtutes in aevum

Per titulos memoresque fastos
Aeternet, o qua sol habitabiles
Illustrat oras, maxime principum ?

U

How far thy martial prowess may attain Learnt the Vindelici, from Latian thrall As yet exempt, when latterly amain, Drusus, thine armament imperial Conducting, overthrew once and again The Brenni fleet, Gerauni, restless race, And castles crowning frightful Alpine heights. Anon, inspired by thine auspicious grace, The elder Nero a great battle fights, And to the restless Rhaetians gives chase. Splendid, in sooth, to witness how he smites Those cheerful devotees of liberty With dire destruction on the embattled plain. As lashes the south wind the tameless sea When clouds are cleft by Pleiads' choral chain, So prompt to charge the banded foe is he: So through the fiery conflict spurs amain His eager steeds. Thus ox-shaped Aufid whirls (Stream, that the realm of Puglian Daunus laves), As o'er the cultivated fields he hurls The fearful deluge of his rabid waves.

When the mailed bands of those barbarian churls Claudius with his impetuous onslaught cleaves, And mowing van and rear, yet losing none On his own side, with corpses strews the ground, Thou troops and counsels lendest, thou thine own Tutelar gods. For when three lustres round Had fully run from the same day whereon Submissive Alexandria was found Opening to thee her ports and palace lone,

Quem legis expertes Latinae

Vindelici didicere nuper Quid Marte posses. Milite nam tuo Drusus Genaunos, implacidum genus, Brennosque veloces, et arces

Alpibus impositas tremendis Dejecit acer plus vice simplici. Major Neronum mox grave proelium Commisit, immanesque Raetos

Auspiciis pepulit secundis : Spectandus in certamine Martio, Devota morti pectora liberae Quantis fatigaret ruinis:

Indomitas prope qualis undas Exercet Auster, Pleïadum choro Scindente nubes, impiger hostium Vexare turmas, et frementem

Mittere equum medios per ignes.
Sic tauriformis volvitur Aufidus,
Qui regna Dauni praefluit Apuli,
Cum saevit, horrendamque cultis

Diluviem meditatur agris.
Ut barbarorum Claudius agmina
Ferrata vasto diruit impetu,
Primosque et extremos metendo,

Stravit humum sine clade victor; Te copias te consilium, et tuos Praebente divos. Nam tibi quo die Portus Alexandrea supplex

Et vacuam patefecit aulam,

Kind fortune gave thy wars a prosperous end,
And claimed that on thine emprise perfected
Applause and hoped-for honour should attend.
Spaniard till then unconquered, Indian, Mede,
And roaming Scythian, before thee bend
Admiringly, oh thou the guardian dread
Of Italy and dominating Rome!
Thee, Danube, rapid Tigris, mystic Nile
That hides the secret of her infant home;
Thee, monster-breeding sea, that 'gainst the isle
Of distant Britons rolls its deafening foam :
Thee, death-despising Gaul, and Spain erewhile
Unyielding land of hardy sons, obey :
To thee the blood-thirsty Sicambrians,
Dropping their weapons, reverent homage pay.

An appropriate epilogue to the Fourth Book, which is supposed to

have been compiled and published by desire of Augustus, mainly for the purpose of giving to the world the Odes celebrating the victories of Drusus and Tiberius, and which, on that supposition, could not conclude better than with an address to the Emperor himself recounting the series of successes whereby he had conferred upon the people the blessings of universal peace.

Fain had I sung of fights and cities ta’en,
But Phoebus with his lyre rebuked the strain,

Lest my frail bark should take its way
Through Tyrrhene gulf. Caesar, thy sway