« EelmineJätka »
He bent his course, and on the margin stood,
And wash'd away the strings and clotted blood
Scarce reaches up his middle side; we stood
Ran through each nerve, and thrill'd in ev'ry vein, 'Till using all the force of winds and oars
We sped away; he heard us in our course,
So stands a forest tall of mountain oaks
ODE III. BOOK III.
Augustus had a design to rebuild Troy, and make it the Metropolis of the Roman Empire, having closeted several Senators on the project: Horace is supposed to have written the following Ode on this occasion :
THE man resolv'd and steady to his trust,
May the rude rabble's insolence despise,
Their senseless clamours and tumultuous cries;
The tyrant's fierceness he beguiles,
And the stern brow, and the harsh voice defies,
Not the rough whirlwind, that deforms
That flings the thunder from the sky,
And gives it rage to roar, and strength to fly.
Should the whole frame of nature round him break,
In ruin and confusion hurl'd,
He, unconcern'd, would hear the mighty crack,a
a Crack. Plainly used here for the sake of the rhyme; for the poet knew very well that the word was low and vulgar. To ennoble it a little he adds the epithet "mighty," which yet, has only the effect to make it even ridiculous.
[This unfortunate line has been not unworthily recorded in the “Art of Sinking in Poetry."-G.]
Such were the godlike arts that led
By arts like these did young Lyæus rise:
Wild from the desert and unbroke:
In vain they foam'd, in vain they star'd,
In vain their eyes with fury glar'd,
He tam'd 'em to the lash, and bent 'em to the yoke. Such were the paths that Rome's great founder trod, When in a whirlwind snatch'd on high,
He shook off dull mortality,
And lost the monarch in the god.
Bright Juno then her awful silence broke,
Troy, says the goddess, perjur'd Troy has felt
Lay heavy on her head, and sink her to the dust.
That durst defraud th' immortals of their pay,
Her guardian gods renounc'd their patronage,
And now the long protracted wars are o'er,
The soft adult'rer shines no more;
No more does Hector's force the Trojans shield,
That drove whole armies back, and singly clear'd the field.
My vengeance sated, I at length resign
To Mars his offspring of the Trojan line:
The thin remains of Troy's afflicted host,
Remov'd by seas, from the disastrous shore,
May endless billows rise between, and storms unnumber'd
Still let the curst detested place,
Where Priam lies, and Priam's faithless race,
May tigers there, and all the savage kind,
In gloomy vaults, and nooks of palaces,
May th' unmolested lioness
Her brinded whelps securely lay,
Or, coucht, in dreadful slumbers waste the day.
While Troy in heaps of ruins lies,
Rome and the Roman capitol shall rise;
Th' illustrous exiles unconfin'd
Shall triumph far and near, and rule mankind.
In vain the sea's intruding tide Europe from Afric shall divide, And part the sever'd world in two:
Through Afric's sands their triumphs they shall spread,
And the long train of victories pursue
Riches the hardy soldier shall despise,
In search of the forbidden ore;
Those glitt'ring ills conceal'd within the mine,
The piercing colds and sultry heats,
The godlike race shall spread their arms ;
Till storms and tempests their pursuits confine;
Now sweat for conquest underneath the line.
This only law the victor shall restrain, On these conditions shall he reign ;
If none his guilty hand employ
To build again a second Troy,
If none the rash design pursue,
Nor tempt the vengeance of the gods anew.