BOOK I. ODE XIV.

O Ship, fresh-rising billows will bear thee back again
To the deep sea! What dost thou ? O hold with might and main
The harbour. Seest thou not how bare

Thy sides of oars to speed thee are,

Thy mast, too, sorely wounded with the swift hurricane And sailyards groan; and, were't not for cables to sustain, Thy keel could scarcely now abide

The more and more imperious tide?

There is not now to aid thee a yet untattered sail,
Nor Gods to invoke when stricken again by adverse gale:
For all that thou, a Pontic pine,

The forest's child, of noble line,

Jactes et genus et nomen inutile, Nil pictis timidus navita puppibus Fidit. Tu nisi ventis

Debes ludibrium, cave.

Nuper sollicitum quæ mihi tædium, Nunc desiderium curaque non levis, Interfusa nitentes

Vites æquora Cycladas.

Vauntest a useless title and genealogy,
The fearful sailor trusts not in painted finery;
O if thou art not bound to bear

The mocking tempests, be thou ware.

Thou who of late didst cause me distressful weariness, Now cause of anxious longing, and care not burdenless, Avoid the intermingling seas

Mid those bright isles the Cyclades.

LIBER I. CARMEN XV.

Pastor cum traheret per freta navibus
Idæis Helenen perfidus hospitam,
Ingrato celeris obruit otio

Ventos ut caneret fera

Nereus fata: 'Mala ducis avi domum
Quam multo repetet Græcia milite,
Conjurata tuas rumpere nuptias
Et regnum Priami vetus.

Heu heu, quantus equis, quantus adest viris Sudor! quanta moves funera Dardanæ Genti. Jam galeam Pallas et ægida

Currusque et rabiem parat.

BOOK I. ODE XV.

What time the Shepherd Chieftain dragged Helen 'cross the sea
On Ida's ships, a traitor to the guestchamber he,
The Sea-god sank the swift winds in welcomeless repose,
To sing the chant of destined woes :

"Ill bodes the bird that leads thee to take unto thy home "A bride whom Greece to claim back with many a troop will come, "A sworn confederation to break thy nuptial vow,

And Priam's old realm to lay low.

"Alas! what sweat for horses! what sweat for men's at hand!
"What carnage thou art stirring for all of Dardan land!
"E'en now doth Goddess Pallas her helmet, and her car,
“Her ægis, and her rage prepare!