ODE II.
Since J OVE decreed in storms to vent
The winter of his discontent,
Thundering o'er R OME impenitent
With red right hand,
The flood-gates of the firmament,
Have drenched the land!

Terror hath seized the minds of men,
Who deemed the days had come again
When Proteus led, up mount and glen,
And verdant lawn,
Of teeming ocean's darksome den
The monstrous spawn.

When P YRRHA saw the ringdove's nest
Harbour a strange unbidden guest,
And, by the deluge dispossest
Of glade and grove
Deers down the tide, with antler'd crest,
Affrighted drove.

W E saw the yellow T IBER , sped
Back to his T USCAN fountain-head,
O'erwhelm the sacred and the dead
In one fell doom,
And V ESTA 's pile in ruins spread,
And N UMA 's tomb.

Dreaming of days that once had been,
He deemed that wild disastrous scene
Might soothe his I LIA , injured queen!
And comfort give her,
Reckless though J OVE should intervene,
Uxorious river!

Our sons will ask, why men of Rome
Drew against kindred, friends, and home,
Swords that a Persian hecatomb
Might best imbue—
Sons, by their fathers' feuds become
Feeble and few!

Whom can our country call in aid?
Where must the patriot's vow be paid?
With orisons shall vestal maid
Fatigue the skies?
Or will not V ESTA'S frown upbraid
Her votaries?

Augur A POLLO ! shall we kneel
To THEE , and for our commonweal
With humbled consciousness appeal?
Oh, quell the storm!
Come, though a silver vapour veil
Thy radiant form!

Will V ENUS from Mount E RYX stoop,
And to our succour hie, with troop
Of laughing G RACES , and a group
Of Cupids round her?
Or comest THOU with wild warwhoop,
Dread M ARS ! our FOUNDER ?

Whose voice so long bade peace avaunt;
Whose war-dogs still for slaughter pant;
The tented field thy chosen haunt,
Thy child the R OMAN ,
Fierce legioner, whose visage gaunt
Scowls on the foeman.

Or hath young H ERMES , M AIA 's son,
The graceful guise and form put on
Of thee, A UGUSTUS ? and begun
(Celestial stranger!)
To wear the name which THOU hast won—
“C ÆSAR'S A VENGER ?”

Blest be the days of thy sojourn,
Distant the hour when R OME shall mourn
The fatal sight of thy return
To Heaven again,
Forced by a guilty age to spurn
The haunts of men.

Rather remain, beloved, adored,
Since R OME , reliant on thy sword,
To thee of J ULIUS hath restored
The rich reversion;
Baffle A SSYRIA'S hovering horde.
And smite the P ERSIAN !