He bent his course, and on the margin stood,
A hideous monster, terrible, deform'd;
Full in the midst of his high front there gap'd
The spacious hollow where his eye-ball roll'd,
A ghastly orifice: he rins'd the wound,

And wash'd away the strings and clotted blood
That cak'd within; then stalking through the deep
He fords the ocean, while the topmost wave

Scarce reaches up his middle side; we stood
Amaz'd be sure, a sudden horror chill

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,
And with his out-stretch'd arms around him grop'd,
But finding nought within his reach, he rais'd
Such hideous shouts that all the ocean shook.
Ev'n Italy, tho' many a league remote,
In distant echoes answer'd; Etna roar'd,
Through all its inmost winding caverns roar'd.
Rous'd with the sound, the mighty family
Of one-ey'd brothers hasten to the shore,
And gather round the bellowing Polypheme,
A dire assembly: we with eager haste
Work ev'ry one, and from afar behold
A host of giants covering all the shore.

So stands a forest tall of mountain oaks
Advanced to mighty growth: the traveller
Hears from the humble valley where he rides.
The hollow murmurs of the winds that blow
Amidst the boughs, and at the distance sees
The shady tops of trees unnumber'd rise,
A stately prospect waving in the clouds

HORACE.

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,
Inflexible to ill, and obstinately just,

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,
And with superior greatness smiles.

Not the rough whirlwind, that deforms
Adria's black gulf, and vexes it with storms,
The stubborn virtue of his soul can move;
Not the red arm of angry Jove,

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
And stand secure amidst a falling world.

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
Bright Pollux to the blest abodes:
Such did for great Alcides plead,
And gain'd a place among the gods ;
Where now Augustus, mix'd with heroes, lies,
And to his lips the nectar bowl applies:
His ruddy lips the purple tincture show,
And with immortal strains divinely glow.

By arts like these did young Lyæus rise:
His tigers drew him to the skies,

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,
And thus th' assembled deities bespoke.

Troy, says the goddess, perjur'd Troy has felt
The dire effects of her proud tyrant's guilt;
The towering pile, and soft abodes,
Wall'd by the hand of servile gods,
Now spreads its ruins all around,
And lies inglorious on the ground.
An umpire, partial and unjust,
And a lewd woman's impious lust,

Lay heavy on her head, and sink her to the dust.
Since false Laomedon's tyrannic sway,

That durst defraud th' immortals of their pay,

Her guardian gods renounc'd their patronage,
Nor would the fierce invading foe repel;
To my resentment, and Minerva's rage,
The guilty king and the whole people fell.

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:
Advanc'd to god-head let him rise,
And take his station in the skies;
There entertain his ravish'd sight
With scenes of glory, fields of light;
Quaff with the gods immortal wine,
And see adoring nations crowd his shrine:

The thin remains of Troy's afflicted host,
In distant realms may seats unenvy'd find,
And flourish on a foreign coast;
But far be Rome from Troy disjoined.

Remov'd by seas, from the disastrous shore,

May endless billows rise between, and storms unnumber'd

roar.

Still let the curst detested place,

Where Priam lies, and Priam's faithless race,
Be cover'd o'er with weeds, and hid in grass.
There let the wanton flocks unguarded stray;
Or, while the lonely shepherd sings;
Amidst the mighty ruins play,
And frisk upon the tombs of kings.

May tigers there, and all the savage kind,
Sad solitary haunts, and silent deserts find;

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
To Nile's yet undiscover'd head.

Riches the hardy soldier shall despise,
And look on gold with undesiring eyes,
Nor the disbowel'd earth explore

In search of the forbidden ore;

Those glitt'ring ills conceal'd within the mine,
Shall lie untouch'd, and innocently shine.
To the last bounds that nature sets,

The piercing colds and sultry heats,

The godlike race shall spread their arms ;
Now fill the polar circle with alarms,

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.