'Where'er the world's far confines spread Her soldiers shall be found;

Where tropic suns their splendour shed,
Where cloud and rain abound;

Lands wet or dry, or hot or cold,
Her dauntless sons shall all behold.

'Of warlike Rome I sing the praise,
And future fame unfold ;

Lest haply some in after days,

Too pious or too bold,

Should seek from ancient dust once more

Troy's mouldering ruins to restore.

'Should Troy arise again, the same

Dark Fortune shall attend; Her second lot begin in shame,

And in destruction end;

For I, Jove's sister and his wife,

Will head the troops and guide the strife.

'Should Phoebus thrice rebuild the wall,

The mighty wall of brass,

Thrice o'er his work (it thrice shall fall),

My Argive hosts shall pass;

And thrice the ravished matron mourn, From husband and from children torn.'

But, ah! these themes ill suit my lyreMuse, stay thy soaring wing!

'Tis playful fancies best inspire

My lute and simple string;

Cease to recount how gods debate,
And in poor verse to hymn the great.

IV.

TO CALLIOPE.

From heaven, Calliope, come down,
And raise a thrilling song of joy ;
Take Phoebus' lyre, or else thy own
Soft voice, sweet queen, in song employ.

Lists she? or am I still the prey

Of fancies vain? Methinks I hear, 'Through sacred groves her footsteps stray, Where gales blow mild and streams run clear.

Once as on Vultur's height I lay,

Beyond Apulia's fostering bound,

A boy asleep, fatigued by play,

Doves o'er my limbs strewed leaves around.

All marvelled at the wondrous deed,
O'er Acherontia's steep who toil;
And they who till fair Bantia's mead,
And low Ferentum's fertile soil :

How safe from serpent's bite that day

I slept, and bears that roamed the wild, Covered with myrtle boughs and bay,

Dear to the gods, a dauntless child.

Yours, O ye Muses sweet, I scale

The lofty Sabine heights and yours, Præneste cool or Tibur's vale

I visit, and bright Baia's shores.

Fond of your founts and dances free,
Safe from Philippi's rout I fled;
Shipwreck escaped, and that vile tree
That falling missed my slumbering head.

If ye will bear me company,

O'er foaming Bosphorus I'll sail,
And wander by the sands that lie
Parching in Syria's torrid vale.

Britain's fierce sons unharmed I'll face,
Spaniards whose drink is horse's blood;

The quiver-carrying Scythian race
I'll see, and Tanais' famous flood.

Cæsar's great soul ye oft enthrall,
Longing for rest, with soothing strains;

When peacefully his forces all

He quarters, tired of far campaigns.

Counsel ye give, and gladly, too,

Ye proffer kind advice; we know How wicked giants and their crew

He with his thunderbolts laid low,

He who o'er earth and stormy sea,
And cities bears impartial sway ;
Whom Pluto's gloomy monarchy,

And gods, and men, alike obey.

What terrors did they not in Jove

Inspire, those youths with weapons dread ;

The brothers, too, who madly strove,

Pelion to pile on Ossa's head!

But what availed Typhoeus strong,
Mimas or what Porphyrion's threat,
Rhoetus, or he of boasting tongue,
Enceladus, who trees upset?

How could they charge the sounding shield
Of Pallas? On one side the fray
Stood Vulcan keen, here took the field,
Juno, and he who ne'er will lay

His bow aside, whose flowing locks
Are laved in Castaly's pure flood,
Who haunts his native Lycia's rocks,
Of Delos fair and Patara god.

Strength without skill falls by its weight;
Strength tempered gods increase in time
To greater feats; but those they hate,
Who seek by strength to compass crime.

Let hundred-handed Gyas prove
My words; Orion, too, I cite,
Who sought to gain chaste Dian's love,
And fell subdued by virgin might.

Earth o'er her giants piled groans sore, And wails her offsprings' fate who pass,

By lightning slain to Pluto's shore,

But flames consume not Etna's mass.

From vulture's lust-avenging beak

Fierce Tityus' liver ne'er is free;

Pirithous too will vainly seek

From his three hundred chains to flee.

V.

THE DOOM OF REGULUS.

We knew he reigned supreme on high
When Jove in thunder spoke ;
Augustus is our deity

On earth; 'tis he who broke
The distant Briton to his sway,

And made the savage Mede obey.

Have not the men whom Crassus led-
Alas, what shame and grief!—
With foreign damsels dared to wed?
And 'neath a Persian chief,

Grey-headed grown in barbarous lands,
The Marsian and the Apulian stands.

Forgotten are the sacred shields,
The shields that fell from heaven;

The glories that the toga yields

Are all from memory driven ;

And Vesta's everlasting flame,

Though Jove stands firm, and Rome the same.

But Regulus foresaw the ill,

What time he laughed to scorn

Base terms of peace, and counselled still

For ages yet unborn,

And knew the woes of after years,

If captive's doom were changed by tears.