     The gods have heard, the gods have heard my prayer;
       Yes, Lyce! you are growing old, and still
           You struggle to look fair;
             You drink, and dance, and trill
     Your songs to youthful Love, in accents weak
       With wine, and age, and passion. Youthful Love!
         He dwells in Chia's cheek,
           And hears her harp-strings move.
     Rude boy, he flies like lightning o'er the heath
       Past wither'd trees like you; you're wrinkled now;
         The white has left your teeth
           And settled on your brow.
     Your Coan silks, your jewels bright as stars,
       Ah no! they bring not back the days of old,
         In public calendars
           By flying Time enroll'd.
     Where now that beauty? where those movements? where
       That colour? what of her, of her is left,
         Who, breathing Love's own air,
           Me of myself bereft,
     Who reign'd in Cinara's stead, a fair, fair face,
       Queen of sweet arts? but Fate to Cinara gave
         A life of little space;
           And now she cheats the grave
     Of Lyce, spared to raven's length of days,
       That youth may see, with laughter and disgust,
         A fire-brand, once ablaze,
           Now smouldering in grey dust.

XIV
QUAE CURA PATRUM

     What honours can a grateful Rome,
       A grateful senate, Caesar, give
     To make thy worth through days to come
       Emblazon'd on our records live,
     Mightiest of chieftains whomsoe'er
       The sun beholds from heaven on high?
     They know thee now, thy strength in war,
       Those unsubdued Vindelici.
     Thine was the sword that Drusus drew,
       When on the Breunian hordes he fell,
     And storm'd the fierce Genaunian crew
       E'en in their Alpine citadel,
     And paid them back their debt twice told;
       'Twas then the elder Nero came
     To conflict, and in ruin roll'd
       Stout Raetian kernes of giant frame.
     O, 'twas a gallant sight to see
       The shocks that beat upon the brave
     Who chose to perish and be free!
       As south winds scourge the rebel wave
     When through rent clouds the Pleiads weep,
       So keen his force to smite, and smite
     The foe, or make his charger leap
       Through the red furnace of the fight.
     Thus Daunia's ancient river fares,
       Proud Aufidus, with bull-like horn,
     When swoln with choler he prepares
       A deluge for the fields of corn.
     So Claudius charged and overthrew
       The grim barbarian's mail-clad host,
     The foremost and the hindmost slew,
       And conquer'd all, and nothing lost.
     The force, the forethought, were thine own,
       Thine own the gods. The selfsame day
     When, port and palace open thrown,
       Low at thy footstool Egypt lay,
     That selfsame day, three lustres gone,
       Another victory to thine hand
     Was given; another field was won
       By grace of Caesar's high command.
     Thee Spanish tribes, unused to yield,
       Mede, Indian, Scyth that knows no home,
     Acknowledge, sword at once and shield
       Of Italy and queenly Rome.
     Ister to thee, and Tanais fleet,
       And Nile that will not tell his birth,
     To thee the monstrous seas that beat
       On Britain's coast, the end of earth,
     To thee the proud Iberians bow,
       And Gauls, that scorn from death to flee;
     The fierce Sygambrian bends his brow,
       And drops his arms to worship thee

XV
PHOEBUS VOLENTEM

     Of battles fought I fain had told,
       And conquer'd towns, when Phoebus smote
     His harp-string: "Sooth, 'twere over-bold
       To tempt wide seas in that frail boat."
     Thy age, great Caesar, has restored
       To squalid fields the plenteous grain,
     Given back to Rome's almighty Lord
       Our standards, torn from Parthian fane,
     Has closed Quirinian Janus' gate,
       Wild passion's erring walk controll'd,
     Heal'd the foul plague-spot of the state,
       And brought again the life of old,
     Life, by whose healthful power increased
       The glorious name of Latium spread
     To where the sun illumes the east
       From where he seeks his western bed.
     While Caesar rules, no civil strife
       Shall break our rest, nor violence rude,
     Nor rage, that whets the slaughtering knife
       And plunges wretched towns in feud.
     The sons of Danube shall not scorn
       The Julian edicts; no, nor they
     By Tanais' distant river born,
       Nor Persia, Scythia, or Cathay.
     And we on feast and working-tide,
       While Bacchus' bounties freely flow,
     Our wives and children at our side,
       First paying Heaven the prayers we owe,
     Shall sing of chiefs whose deeds are done,
       As wont our sires, to flute or shell,
     And Troy, Anchises, and the son
       Of Venus on our tongues shall dwell.

CARMEN SAECULARE

PHOEBE, SILVARUMQUE

     Phoebus and Dian, huntress fair,
       To-day and always magnified,
     Bright lights of heaven, accord our prayer
           This holy tide,
     On which the Sibyl's volume wills
       That youths and maidens without stain
     To gods, who love the seven dear hills,
           Should chant the strain!
     Sun, that unchanged, yet ever new,
       Lead'st out the day and bring'st it home,
     May nought be present to thy view
           More great than Rome!
     Blest Ilithyia! be thou near
       In travail to each Roman dame!
     Lucina, Genitalis, hear,
           Whate'er thy name!
     O make our youth to live and grow!
       The fathers' nuptial counsels speed,
     Those laws that shall on Rome bestow
           A plenteous seed!
     So when a hundred years and ten
       Bring round the cycle, game and song
     Three days, three nights, shall charm again
           The festal throng.
     Ye too, ye Fates, whose righteous doom,
       Declared but once, is sure as heaven,
     Link on new blessings, yet to come,
           To blessings given!
     Let Earth, with grain and cattle rife,
       Crown Ceres' brow with wreathen corn;
     Soft winds, sweet waters, nurse to life
           The newly born!
     O lay thy shafts, Apollo, by!
       Let suppliant youths obtain thine ear!
     Thou Moon, fair "regent of the sky,"
           Thy maidens hear!
     If Rome is yours, if Troy's remains,
       Safe by your conduct, sought and found
     Another city, other fanes
           On Tuscan ground,
     For whom, 'mid fires and piles of slain,
       AEneas made a broad highway,
     Destined, pure heart, with greater gain.
           Their loss to pay,
     Grant to our sons unblemish'd ways;
       Grant to our sires an age of peace;
     Grant to our nation power and praise,
           And large increase!
     See, at your shrine, with victims white,
       Prays Venus and Anchises' heir!
     O prompt him still the foe to smite,
           The fallen to spare!
     Now Media dreads our Alban steel,
       Our victories land and ocean o'er;
     Scythia and Ind in suppliance kneel,
           So proud before.
     Faith, Honour, ancient Modesty,
       And Peace, and Virtue, spite of scorn,
     Come back to earth; and Plenty, see,
           With teeming horn.
     Augur and lord of silver bow,
       Apollo, darling of the Nine,
     Who heal'st our frame when languors slow
           Have made it pine;
     Lov'st thou thine own Palatial hill,
       Prolong the glorious life of Rome
     To other cycles, brightening still
           Through time to come!
     From Algidus and Aventine
       List, goddess, to our grave Fifteen!
     To praying youths thine ear incline,
           Diana queen!
     Thus Jove and all the gods agree!
       So trusting, wend we home again,
     Phoebus and Dian's singers we,
           And this our strain.