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Who, springing foremost in the chase

Of Fame, demands we should his triumph grace, Tuning lyres to vocal lays,

Sweet union of melodious praise;


For not only has he borne

The' Olympian prize, but, with his brother, worn The garland of renown,

At Pytho and at Isthmus; where,

Victorious both, they shared the' allotted crown,
Joint-honour, won

In twelve impetuous courses, run
With four unwearied steeds.
To vanquish in the strife severe
Does all anxiety destroy:
And to this, if wealth succeeds
With virtues enamell'd, the joy
Luxuriant grows; such affluence
Does glorious opportunities dispense,
Giving depth of thought to find
Pursuits which please a noble mind.

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Refulgent star! to man the purest beam of light.! The possessor of this store,

Far-future things discerning, knows.

Obdurate wretches, once deceased, to immediate


Consign'd, too late their pains deplore;

For below,

Ere they go,

Sits one in judgment, who pronounces right

On crimes in this wide realm of Jove ;

Whose dire decree no power can e'er remove:

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But the good, alike by night,

Alike by day, the Sun's unclouded light

Beholding, ever bless'd,

Live an unlaborious life,

Nor anxious interrupt the hallow'd rest

With spade and plough,

The earth to vex, or with the prow

The briny sea, to eat

The bread of care in endless strife.
The dread divinities among,

The few unaccustomed to wrong,
Who never broke the vow they swore,
A tearless age enjoy for evermore;
While the wicked hence depart
To torments which appall the heart:

ANTISTROPHE IV. Measures 16.

But the souls who greatly dare,
Thrice tried in either state, to persevere
From all injustice pure,

Journeying onward in the way

Of Jupiter, in virtue still secure,

Along his road

Arrive at Saturn's raised abode;

Where soft sea-breezes breathe

Round the island of the bless'd; where gay
The trees with golden blossoms glow;
Where, their brows and arms to wreathe,
Bright garlands on every side below;
For, springing thick in every field,

The earth does golden flowers spontaneous yield; And, in every limpid stream,

The budding gold is seen to gleam:

EPODE IV. Measures 10.

Fair heritage! by righteous Rhadamanth's award: Who, coéqual, takes his seat

With Saturn, sire divine,

Thy consort, Rhea, who above the rest doth shine,
High-throned, thou matron-goddess great:
These among

(Blissful throng!)

Does Peleus and does Cadmus find regard;
And, through his mother's winning prayer
To Jove, Achilles dwells immortal there:

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He who Hector did destroy,

The pillar firm, the whole support, of Troy,
And Cycnus gave to die,

And Aurora's Æthiop son.

My arm beneath yet many darts have I,

All swift of flight,

Within my quiver, sounding right

То every skilful ear:

But, of the multitude, not one
Discerns the mystery unexplain❜d.
He transcendent does appear

In knowledge, from Nature who gain'd
His store but the dull-letter'd crowd,
In censure vehement, in nonsense loud,
Clamour idly, wanting skill,

Like crows, in vain, provoking still


Measures 16.

The celestial bird of Jove:

But, to the mark address thy bow, nor rove,

My soul and whom do I
Single out with fond desire,

At him to let illustrious arrows fly?
My fix'd intent,

My aim, on Agrigentum bent,

A solomn oath I plight,

Sincere as honest minds require,

That through an hundred circling years,
With recorded worthies bright,

No rivalling city appears

To boast a man more frank to impart
Kind offices to friends with open heart,
Or, with hand amidst his store,
Delighting to distribute more

EPODE V. Measures 10.

Than Theron yet foul Calumny, injurious blame, Did the men of rancour raise

Against his fair renown,

Defamers, who by evil actions strove to drown His good, and to conceal his praise.

Can the sand,

On the strand,

Be number'd o'er? Then, true to Theron's fame,

His favours, showering down delight

On thousands, who is able to recite?



THE line of Atreus will I sing;
To Cadmus will I tune the string:
But, as from string to string I move,
My lute will only sound of love,

The chords I change through every screw, And model the whole lute anew,

Once more, in song, my voice I raise,
And, Hercules, thy toils I praise :
My lute does still my voice deny,
And in the tones of love reply.

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Ye heroes then, at once farewell: Loves only echo from my shell.'



NATURE the bull with horns supplies,
The horse with hoofs she fortifies,
The fleeting foot on hares bestows,
On lions teeth, two dreadful rows!
Grants fish to swim, and birds to fly,
And on their skill bids men rely.

Women alone defenceless live;
To women what does Nature give?
Beauty she gives instead of darts,
Beauty, instead of shields, imparts;
Nor can the sword, nor fire, oppose·
The fair, victorious where she goes.



ONE midnight, when the Bear did stand

A level with Böotes' hand,

And, with their labour sore oppress'd,

The race of men were laid to rest,

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