Ode XV.-THE PRAISES OF AUGUSTUS.

Apollo chid me with his lyre

When I desired of war to sing,

And conquered towns, lest I should bring My little sail to brave the ire

Of Tyrrhene waves. Lo, Cæsar's day
Again brings plenty to our fields,
Again the vine full clusters yields.
Behold the standards snatched away,

Which late proud Parthian fanes exposed,
To our Jove's temple are restored;
Romans with all the world accord,
And Janus' temple's gates are closed.

Cæsar true order gives, and reins
The uncurbed license of the state;
Recalls the virtue of old date
Whence Italy her valour gains;

The Roman name, and whence arise
Her growing fame, her majesty;
And empire which outspread we see
To Eastern from the Western skies.

Augustus! while you guard the state
No civil broils our peace shall mar,
Nor rage which sharpens swords for war,
And wretched cities turns to hate.

Carmen XV.-AUGUSTI LAUDES.

Phoebus volentem prælia me loqui
Victas et urbes increpuit lyra,

Ne parva Tyrrhenum per æquor
Vela darem. Tua, Cæsar, ætas

Fruges et agris rettulit uberes
Et signa nostro restituit Jovi
Derepta Parthorum superbis

Postibus et vacuum duellis

Janum Quirini clausit et ordinem
Rectum evaganti frena licentiæ
Injecit emovitque culpas

Per

Et veteres revocavit artes,

quas Latinum nomen et Italæ
Crevere vires famaque et imperî
Porrecta majestas ad ortus
Solis ab Hesperio cubili.

Custode rerum Cæsare non furor

Civilis aut vis exiget otium,

Non ira, quæ procudit enses

Et miseras inimicat urbes.

Not they who drink of Danube deep,

Not Getæ, Seres, Mede untrue,

Break Julian laws imposed by you, Nor tribes where Tanais' waters sweep.

We on the feasts and holy days,

When warmed by mirthful Bacchus' wine, With wives and children will combine (The gods first moved by prayer and praise)

The Lydian pipe with song to share,
And sing the deeds of leaders bold,
As sung our sires, Anchises old,
Troy, and the son of Venus fair.

Non, qui profundum Danubium bibunt,

Edicta rumpent Julia, non Getæ,

Non seres infidive Persæ,

Non Tanaïn prope flumen orti.

Nosque et profestis lucibus et sacris

Inter jocosi munera Liberi

Cum prole matronisque nostris,
Rite Deos prius apprecati,

Virtute functos more patrum duces
Lydis remixto carmine tibiis

Trojamque et Anchisen et almæ

Progeniem Veneris canemus.

THE SECULAR HYMN.

Phoebus! Diana, Queen of woods! divine

Splendours of heaven, whom still we worship, praise, To grant your pious votaries' prayer incline In these most holy days.

Days when the verse the ancient Sybil gave,
In chosen virgins and pure youths instils,
To chant a hymn to guardian gods who save
Rome and her seven hills.

O, Sun, the nourisher, producing light

Then quenching it:-with car more bright than gold, New, yet the same, you rise; no greater sight

Than Rome may you behold.

Propitious births, kind Ilithya, bring,

Preserve with fostering care our mothers all,

Whether we you shall as Lucina sing,

Or the life-giver call.

Increase our offspring, Goddess, prosper still

The Senate's laws which marriages decree,

May a fresh progeny our wish fulfil,

And marriage fertile be.