All the odes and epodes of Horace. Translated into English verse: by Henry Rider, Master of Arts of Emmanuel Colledge in Camebridge

THE EPODES of HORACE.

EPODE I. Horace desires to goe with Maecenas to warre.

THou, friend Maecenas, on Liburnians necks Wilt goe unto the ships high decks; Being prepar'd to undertake alone All Caesars perill as thy owne. And what then shall I doe, To whom, so long as you Doe still survive, my life is pleasing, But if contrary, 'tis diseasing?

Shall we, be'ing bid, embrace securitie, Not sweet, unlesse it be with thee? Or undergoe this labour with that spirit, As befits brave men to beare it? And the Alps-hills clean through With stout minde follow you, And Caucasus by none possest, And utmost confines of the West?

You'll aske how with my pains I can ease your, Being feeble and unsure;

Being with you I shall be in feare much lesse, That dos the absent most oppresse. As the bird sitting o•••• Her unfledg'd young, dos more When they're alone, the snakes twines feare, Not that shee could help, were shee there.

These and all enterprises, we will prove, Freely, in hope to gain your love. Not that my ploughs, being made fast unto My many teemes, much work may doe; Or that my cattell may From Lucan pastures stray To the Calabrians situation, Before the firie const••llation.

Nor that my upland Tusculums hot bower May reach as far as Circestower: Sufficiently has thy benignitie, And too much enriched me; I will not crave that, like Some greedy-griping tike I in the earth may deep inhume, Or like some riotous spark consume.

EPODE II. The prases of the courtrie life.

BLest is the man, who, free from molestation, (As were the mortals antient nation) With his owne oxen tills his country ground, From all usury unbound;

Nor, souldier like, with shrill alarms is raised, Nor at the angry sea's amazed; And flyes the courts of law, and the proud gates Of Citizens of great estates. Then either with the fruitfull stems of vines, He the tall poplar trees conjoynes, And, with his knife cutting the waste boughs out, Graft in better roundabout; Or tendeth on his oxens grazing drove, In a close retired grove, Or his prest noney tuns in vessels cleare, Or his swelter'd sheep doth sheare; Or when the Autumne o're the fields doth spread With ripen'd fruit his comely head, How blith is he his grafted trees devesting, And grapes with purple dye contesting. Wherewith, Priapus, he may thee reward, And thee, Sire Sylvane, his lands guard. Now under some old oke he loves to lye, Upon the long grasse by and by: Mean while the streames along their high banks spring, The birds doe in the forest sing; The Springs with flowing drops a whisp'ring keep; Which may call in gentle sleep. But when the thund'ring Inpiters cold tide Dos the stormes and snow provide, With many dogs he here and there besets The fierce Boares 'gainst the toiling nets; Or on his smooth hook hangs his slender snares, Gins for the devouring Stares; Or else the fearfull Hares about pursues, Or Crane a stranger to our noose; (Delightfull sports! who amids these will not Forget the sad cares love has got?) But if the chaste wife, for her part, doth cheare Her family and children deare;

(Like to the Sabine or the sun-burn'd bride Of the Apulian swift to ride) Dos with old wood a sacred fire begin 'Gainst her toil'd husbands comming in; And in clos'd pens shutting her faire ewes by, Milks their full-swolne udders drie, And from her sweet pots broaching this yeares wine, Makes him with unbought viands dine; Nor Lucrine shel-fish'better shall me please, Nor Rhombus, nor the Porpuses; If that the winter swell'd with eastern waves, Any to our Ocean laves. No Turkey-cock shall downe my belly fleet, Nor lonian Quaile, more sweet Than th' Olive-betry that new-gather'd is From the richest boughs of trees; Or Sorrell-leafe that loves the meadow ground, And Mallowes good for bodies bound; Or else a lamb on Terminus feasts slaine, Or a Kid from the Wolfe new tane. Amid these cates how I desire to see How the full ewes bent homeward bee; To see the wearied oxen, as they hall'd The o're-turn'd plough with necks all gall'd; And, the rich houses swarme, the servants set About the chimney trimmed near. When as the Usurer Alphius thus had said, Who straight a farmer would be made, I'th'ldes he gathered all his money in, Next month would let it out agin.

EPODE III. Against the eating of Garlick.

IF any one with hand accurst His fathers aged neck hath burst, Garlick more fell than Hemlock let him eat. O the strong guts of countrie swaines! What kind of poisons this that raignes Within my brest? hast Vipers bloud (being h•••• Among these herbs) from me been hid aside, Or did ••anidia these bad cates provide?

When as Medea did admire 'Bove all the seamen one faire Squire, Iason with this shee charm'd, when he did tye Yokes on the bulls to them unknowne; With presents stain'd with this alone, Tort'ring her rivall shee away did fly On winged Snakes; nor ere did such a smoke Downe from the stars the parch't Apulia choke.

Neither did that present crack More ragingly upon the back Of the laborious Mercules; but I pray, O blith Maecenas, if you crave Any such like stink to have. At any time, that then your sweet-heart may Her hands forth-right against your kisses spred And lye on farthest side of all the bed.

EPODE IV. Against upstert Maenas, late a slave.

WHat hate 'twixt wolve and lambs dos use to be So much i•• 'twixt me and thee, Whose sides with Spanish whips are scarr'd And whose legs with setters hard: Though you with wealth doe strut vaingloriously, The fortune dos not change the qualitie.

See you, as through the sacred street you throng, With a gown of six ells long, How the passengers free scorne Their faces to and fro doth turne? He flea'd with Bride-well whips, to th'whippers toile. Tills thousand acres now of Falern soile.

The Appian way he with his Jennets beats, And upon the chiefest seats He sitteth as a doughty Knight, And dos marshall Otho slight. What profit is't that with a heavie load So many ships bow'd keeles are in the road Against these pirats, and these slavish powers, He, he being tribune of these bands of ours?

EPODE V. Canidia tortaring a boy, to make a love potion of him.

O O, what ever God in heav'n doth guide The earth and all mandkind beside, What dos thi•••••• rore mean, and wherefore bee All your stane looks gainst ••nly mee? ••hee by thy children, if Lucina e••e, To thy true l••••ou••s call••d, was there; By this my purples fainting die I pray, By Iove that will these thing gain-say, Why like a ste••dame dost thou on me looke, Or like a Whale struck with the hooke?

While thus the Boy did stand, and did complaine With trembling voice, his ••obes being from him tane A body very smooth, and such a one As might the Thracians cruell brests atone; ••onidra having think embroydered 〈◊〉〈◊〉 With little snakes her locks and uncomb'd head, Commands that fig-trees wild from graves up torne, Commands that cypresse sprigs at funeralls worne, And egs with bloud of a black toad made fouls, And feathers of a nighty flying owle, And herbs Iolcos and ••beria (Fertill in poisons) dos transport away, And bones out from a hungry curs chaps sp••••••d, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Magick flames should be to ashes burn'd. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 busie Sagana the house throughout ••prinkling Avernall waters round about, ••••ke a sea Porpus, or a bristling Boare, With her haire staring up, about doth ro••e.

Veia with no feare stopp' digg'd out the dust With her hard spades, grunting at ev'ry thrust, That the boy rammed in might pine away At sight of meat chang'd twice or thrice each day; While he peer'd up with's head, as bodies sunk Toth' chin in water stand; that his pith shrunk, And liver dri'd might be a love-drink made, While his eyes fixt on meats forbid, did fade. Both lazie Naples, and each Village neare Thought Ariminian Folia was there, (A man in lust) who pulleth from the skie, Stars and Moon charm'd with spells of Thessaly. Cruell Ca••••dia here biting away Her long nailes with black t••••th, what did shee say, Or what did shee not say? —

O you that to my projects bee True helpers, Night, and Hecate, Who the silence dost command While our night-spells are in hand, Now come, and on these hostile bowers, Throw your anger and your powers. While beasts in their sad dens doe creepe Wearied with pleasant sleepe; Let the Suburan dogs all snarle At the old adulterous carle, And (which all the towne may jeere) Besmear'd with Spikenard every where, "And such a one, as a more true ••st these my hands did never doe. Be•••• ma••'s hap't? why dos my direfull charme Than sell Medeas doe lesse harme; Wherewith having tortur'd fore Creat Creons daughter, that proud whore, Away shee fled thence, when a gowne, A present o're with potion strowne,

Carried from them all on flame The but newly married dame. Nor plant nor root, yet, hidden in Sharp rocks to me unknown hath bin; Yet he in bed of all his whores, Besmeared with oblivion snores. Ah, ah, he walks freed from harme, By some more skilfull witches charme, Thou Varus with no triviall potion Back to me shalt make thy motion, (Thou whose head for this shall pay) Nor shall thy heart, though call'd away With Marsian spells, from me e're slide; I'le a stronger draught provide, I'le a pow'rfuller powre out For thee that at my love dost flout. First heav'n beneath the earth shall lye, The earth stretcht over both on high, Than you not flame in my desires, Like brimstone in the sootie fires.

At this the Boy did not, as heretofore, These damned hags with gentle words implore, But doubtfull how he might his silence breake, Did Thyestaean imprecations speake;

Poisons, a great helpe and harme, Can't humane courses counter-charme I'le curse you all; a dire curse is Removed with no sacrifice. But when by you be'ing bid to die, I shall give up the ghost, then I A mightie terror will you meet, And as a ghost your faces greet, With crooked naises, (which is the pow'r) Of the gods in feriour)

And lying on your panting brest, With horror drive away your rest. You, loath some Witches, all the towne In each street shall batter downe, Throwing stones now here now there, Then wolves and funerall fowles shall teare Your unburied limbs in sunder, Nor from my parents shall this wonder Be conceal'd, who after mee Must (alas) survivers bee.

EPODE VI. Against Cassius Severus.

WHerefore, O Curre, Dost thou the harmelesse stranger fright Not daring against wolves to stirre? Why doe not you this way Your vain threats (if you can) display, And seize me that again dare bite.

For Mastiffe-like, Or like unto the brended hound, (The shepherds loving help) Ile strike Through she deep snow, full neare Unto thee with my prickt up eare, What e're game shall before me bound.

When thou hast fill'd The forest with thy hideous cry, Thou with one cast scrap art still'd: O be warn'd, be warned then, For I most fierce' gainst wicked men, Advance my ready horns on high.

I like unto That son in law held in disdain, By Lycambes most untrue Or the fierce foe of Bupalus, If with black tooth one bite me thus, Shall I like a weak boy complain?

EPODE VII. An execration of the civill warre.

O Whither now, O whither Run yee (yee cursed men) together; Or why are your long laid-by swords made fit, For your right hands? is there yet Too little wasted of our Latian bloud Upon the fields and in the floud?

Not that our Romans might Burne the stately towers downe quite Of Carthage vile; or th'unfound Britain tread Our sacred way, being manacled; But that unto the Parthians wish this Land Might perish by her owne right hand.

'Mongst Wolves and Lions ne're Was such a use, unlesse it were 'Gainst beasts of different sort: dos hood-wink'd furie Or stronger force, or sin allure yee? Return an answer: they are silent still, And palenesse wan their looks doth fill.

Their consciences pierc't through Are all astonish't: 'tis too true,

Sad destiny, and sin of brothers slaughter, Our Roman race still followeth after, E're since just Remus bloud o'th'ground did lye Fatall to its posteritie.

EPODE VIII. and XII. That obscenitis which cannot in fit words bee cove∣red, is not fit in any words to bee discovered.

EPODE IX. Foretelling Caesars victory against Antonie.

O Blest Maecenas, when shall I (So please Iove) in thy palace high Taste the wine kept for feasts most glorious, When Caesar shall returne victorious, Be'ing merry with thee, while the lyre Doth mixt songs to the pipes inspire, Upon this a Dorick tone, Upon them a Barb'rous one? As of late we did when (hee That would Neptunes bastard bee) The Captain of the Ocean chas't With his fir'd ships away did haste; Threatning fetters to our citie, Which formerly he, taking pitie, Knock't off from slaves turn'd renegate; A Roman Squire, now captivate To a female creature, beares Her trenching engin and her spears:

(Ah posteritie, you'll say This never was) and can obey Eunuchs with their wrinkled face; And the Sun (O vile disgrace) 'Mongst ensignes fit for chevalrie Dos look upon a canopie. But the French-menturn'd together Two thousand foaming horses hither, Singing Caesar; and there lye The hostile navies sterns close by In harbour, looking a wrong way: Iö Triumph thou hast brought Us a generall back from war Exceeding Jugurths victor far, And Affricks conqueror, whose glorie Over Carthage rais'd his storie. Our foe by land and sea o'rethrowne Has put on a homely gowne For his scarlet, and now hee With winds against him means to see Creet for its hundred cities prais'd, Or sailes against the quick-sands rais'd By the South, or's tost aloft On the Ocean varying oft. Boy, bring larger glasses hither, And Chian wine, or Lesbian either, Or Cecube liquor for us fill, That may the rising stomack still. All care and feare for Caesars State In sweet wine I must mitigate.

EPODE X. An execration against Maevius.

THe ship's lan••h'd out with fate unprosperous Carrying in't that stinking Maevius. R••••ember, South-wind, that thou both sides batter With horrid waves: let the black East-wind shatter The racklings and the oares all burst in twain With the toss'd sea; let the North swell again As high, as when upon the mountains great The trem••ling oakes it doth in peeces beat. Nor let propitious Star that dark night shine, When storme presaging Orion dos decline. Nor calmer sea let him be born upon Than was the Grecian Captains legion; When Pallas had her indignation turn'd 'Gainst Ajax impious ship from Ilium burn'd. O what a sweat dos on thy sea-men stand, And on thy selfe a palenesse swarthy-tann'd, And that same (not a man beseeming) crying, And prayers unto love they suit denying! When the lonian creek 'ginning to rore. 'Gainst the moist South-wind has your vessell tore. But if, as a rich prey, being laid flat On the crook'd shore, thou shalt the crowes make far, A lustfull hee-goat and a lamb besides Shall offer'd be to the tempestuous tides.

EPODE XI. That he is love-sick, and cannot write verses.

PEttie, it doth not me delight Verses, as before, to write, Quite thorow thrust With deeply wounding lust.

With lust, the which doth me desire 'Bove all men else to set on fire Or for young boyes, Or for some female toyes.

This the third winter off has tore The forests dresse, since I forbore To pine away For my Inachia.

Through towne O what a sport was I? (For I'm sham'd at such foolery) And I repent My feasting-merriments

In which my griefe and silent tongue, And sighs from my hearts bottom sprung, Argued mee Inamorate to bee.

And mourning to thee, I did cry, A poore mans candid ingenie Was all but vain To stand against her gain;

When as the uncivill power Of raging wine, had from its bower My secret thought With stronger liquor wrought

But in my brest if free rage boile, That to the winds it may assoile My sighs ingrate Which my sore wound can't bate

Then my modestnesse cast by Shall give over presently To strive so long With rivalls over strong.

When (vext) I to you had enlarg'd These things, to hie me home being charg••d; Along I went With feet full imporent,

To those posts (ah) unkind to mee, And doores (ah) full of crueltie Where mightily My loins and sides bruis'd I.

Lyciscus love me now doth presse, Boasting that he in tendernesse Dos far surpasse Any young married lasse.

Whence nor the free-spent consultations, Nor the rigid increpations Of my friends ere Me off againe shall teare:

But some other flame, in sooth, Of some faire maid, or some plump youth,

Knitting up faire His long grown head of haire.

EPODE XIII. From the present storme to take occasion to be merry.

A Horrid storme doth cloud heaven o're, And rain and snow doe even unthrone love: Now the sea, and now the grove With the Thracian north-wind rore.

Friends, let's catch oportunitie Even from this very time; and while our knees Are lustie, and it seemly is Let age from cloudy brow be free.

Broach the wine made when Torquat was My Consul; cease to speak ought of the rest: Iove perhaps with change full blest Will these things into order passe.

Now I desire with Persian oile To bespred o're, and with Mercuriall lyre from all pertur bations dire My cogltations to assoile.

As the brave Centaur sung unto His Pupill ••all; Morrall unconquered, Boy by goddeste Thet is bred, The Land of Troy doth wait for you.

Which small Scamanders coole streams lave, And Simois smooth; whence Fates with destin'd thrid Thy return home agen forbid Not thy sea-mother home shall have.

Then being there doe thou suppresse Every ill thing with wine and melodie, The sweet-easing company Of deform'd distractivenesse.

EPODE XIV. An excuse for not finishing his Iambicks.

WHy a feeble lazinesse Dos so great oblivion presse On my de••p senses, as if I Had swallow'd down, with chaps parch't d••ie, Drinks Lethaean slet pes in piring, You me kill with oft enquiring, (O Macenas deare) for why That god, that god dos put me by My lambicks (some part pend, A song long promis'd) e're to end In no other sort they say Anacreon of Te••a For Samian Bathyllus burn'd, Who on his hollow Lute oft mourn'd In carelesse measures his desire; You poore heart too are all on fire: But if that flame was not so bright That burn'd besieged Troy down quite, Joy in your choice: Phryne made free, Nor with one man content, pines mee.

EPODE XV. A complaint of Neaera's perjurie.

IT was at night, and in the cleer-brow'd skie The moone among the lesser starres did shine, When thou, about to blast the majestie Of the great gods, swar'st to these words of mine, (Clinging more closely with thy armes twin'd round, Than the tall oake is with the ivie bound) While the wolfe to sheep a foe, And Orion to seamen so, Should irritate the winter swelled sea, And the wind should every way Apollo's uncut locks display, This our love interchangeable should be. Naera that much for my resolves shalt grieve, (For if ther's ought of man in Flaccus yet) Hee'll not endure thou all thy nights shouldst give To a rivall; and being vext a mate hee'il get. Nor shall his constancy ere yeeld agin, To thy false face, if fixt griefe once step in. And thou blest man who ere thou art, That struttest proudly army sma••t Though thou be rich in cattell and much ground, And Pactolus to thee flow And thou Pythagoras secrets know (Thrice born) and Nireus dost for face confound, Ah thou wilt weepe to see her love to steere Another course, but I'mean time will jeere.

EPODE XVI. A deploring of the eivill wars, and an exhortation to forsake their countrie, as untuckie.

A Second age with civill wars is spent, And Rome it selfe with her own powers is rent; Which bord'ring Ma••sians could not waste away, Nor Tuscan band or threatfull Prosena, No•• Capua's emulo is strength, nor Spartacus So violent, nor French perfidious To new affaires, nor savage Germany Had ever wasted with her painted fry, Nor Anni' bal by his parents cursed still, We wicked brood of cursed seed will spill; And now our land again shall be ore-spread With savage beasts; the barbrous victor tread Upon our ashes, and the horseman greet Our citie with his horses sounding feet; And proudly scatter (O abhorr'd to see) Romulus bones from wind and sun set free. Perhaps you all, or best part pitch upon What must, to scape these wicked wars, be done: Let no advice than this be priz'd more high; As did the Phocians cursed citie fly, Fields, houshold gods, and temple, too forsooke, By boares and cruell wolves to be next tooke. Let's goe where ere our feet can carrie us, Where ere the south or north wind boisterous Shall call us through the seas: what? dos this like? Or has some else a better stroke to strike? Wherefore doe we delay our ships to st••are With prosp'rous fate? but lets to these things sweare:

When rocks, rais'd from their deep seas up, shall flow, Then back again it be no sin to goe, Nor be a shame our sailes towards home to set, When Padus shall the Matine hill tops wet. Or towring Apennine sink in the main, And strange love with new lust shall monsters chain, That Tygers shall to mate with Bucks delight, And Pigeon shall adulterate with the Kite Not credulous herds from yellow lions shall move, And the smooth goat the brinish floods shall love: Let's swear to these things, and what ever may, Take all our sweet hopes of return away. Let our curs'd citie all at once goe our, Or some part better than th' untutor'd rout. Let the hen-hearted and despairing wretch Himselfe in these ill fated chambers stretch. The girdling sea calls us; lets seek out strait Those fields, blest fields and Ilands fortunate, Where th'earth untill each yeare her fruit doth give, And vineyard never prund doth everlive; And the nere-fuling olives branch doth sprout, And the ripe fig her native tree sets out. From hollow oaks drops honey; from high hills The nimble spring with ratling feet distills There goats uncalld unto the milk pailes come, And the faire flock their full swoln bag, brings 〈◊〉〈◊〉; Nor evening beare about their fields doth yell, Nor dos the fertile land with vipers swell. And we blest men shall more admire, as how The wet south don't the meads with large stormes mow; Nor the far seed is parcht in furrowes drie; The heav'ns king both so well doth qualifie. No ship with Argonaures doth hither steere, Nor impudent Medea sets foot heere, No Tyrian sailors hither their sailes bent, Not yet Vlysses long-toil'd regiment.

Jove for a pious stock these shoares selected, When he the golden age with brasse infected, With brasse, then iron hardend the age; whose flight To those blest soules by my presage stands right.

TO CANIDIA. An ironicall recantation.

NOw to thy strong art I my hands assigne, Humbly, and crave byth' realmes of Proserpine, And by the unmov'd power of Hecate, And by the books of spels which able be To call the loosned stars down from their sphaere, Canidia, yet thy damned charms forbeare, And wind, O wind thy nimble spindle back: Telephus so did Nereus grand child slack. Gainst whom proud he his Mysian troups had bent, And against whom he had his sharpe darts sent. The Trojan mat ons murdrous ••ector ointed, To ravenous birds and dogs before appointed, When that the King, descended from the wall, Down (ah) at proud Achilles feet did fall; Vlysses gally-slaves, when C••ree pleas'd, Their bi••••••led members of their hard skin eas'd. Then was their mind and voyce restor'd again, And glory in their countenance most plain. Thou much by sailors and by factors lov'd, Enough and too much penance I have prov'd; My youth is vanisht, and my comely red Has left my bones with swarthy skin o••espred. My hiar's turnd white all over with thyoile, No intermission quitteth me from toile. The night on day, and day on night doth seize, Yet nothing can my wind-swoln intrailes ease,

Therefore poore wretch I am captlv'd, that I May credit what I did before denie, That Sabine charms could doe a body wrong, Or wit be crazed with a Marsyan song. What would you more than this?—O earth and seas! I flame, as neither poison'd Hercules By Nessus foule blood, nor Sicilian fire Raging in burning Aetna can flame higher: Thou even a shop of Colchick witchery Do••t flame so long, till I, being ashes day, To the rude winds shall shatterd be: what end? Or what amercement dos upon me tend? Speak, I will truly beare my imposed task, Prepar'd to expiate, whether you ask A hundred buls; or on my false lute you Will flatter'd bee; you modest dame and true, Being a golden constellation, Even the stars themselves shalt tread upon. Castor, and mighty Castors brother sham'd At the report of Helena defam'd, Or-come with supplication, did againe Restore the eye-sight from the poet tane. And you (for you can doe't) free me from madnesse, O thou nere tainted through thy fathers badnesse, Nor old hag skill'd from poore mens sepulchers The dust scarce nine dayes cover'd to disperse; Thou hast a loving breast, and righteous hands, And yet thy wombe for childbirth sitting stands. And the nurse washes up your blood-staind clout When thou a lustic child-bed wife leap'st out.

CANIDIA'S answer.

WHy powre you praiers into my lockt-up cares? The winter-swelled Neptune never teares The rocks more deafe to sea men ship wracked On the rough sea: should you untortured My (by you publisht) baudy rites despise, The nor-to-be-wrong'd Cupids sacrifice? And censor of my spels on the watch-hill, (Unpunisht) with my name the town shouldst fill? Wher•• in will it availe you rich to make The Pelign hags, or quicker poison take, If flower destinies on you attend Than your desires? you wretch must to this end Spin out a loathed life, that so you may For new found torments evermore find play. Tantalus wanting his still furnisht feast, (Pelops his faithlesse father) begs for rest; Prometheus craves it, to his eagle tide; Sisyphus begs to make his stone abide On the hill top; but loves decrees denie: So you may wish to leap from turrets high, And other while with a Bavarian blade To ri•••••• entrailes up; and you may braid Halters for your own neck, and all in vaine, Being distracted at your tedious paine. Then I'le in state ride on your hatefull back, Beneath my insolence the earth-shall crack: Shall I that can make waxen pictures goe, (As you your selfe ore-curious foole doe know) Can with my cha••••s the moone from heaven constrain, Can raise the burnt dead bodies up againe, And make a drink of love, th'event deplore Of all my art that hath on thee no power?

A secular Hymne for the protection of the Roman Empire.

PHOEBUS, and Dian president Offorrests, heavens bright ornament, Still worthy praise, and still ador'd, Afford Those things for which we pray Upon our holy day.

On which the Sibylls books ordain'd, That virgins choice, and youths unstain'd Should to those deities rehearse A verse, With whom our seaven hills Have purchased good wills.

Bright Sun that in thy charet pure Dost cleare the day, and dost obscure, Seem'st various, yet still in one wise Dost rise, O mayst thou nothing see Greater than Rome to bee.

O Ilithuia truly milde To bring forth the ripened child, Protect our matrons whether thou Allow To be Lucina fam'd, Or be amid wife nam'd,

Goddesse doe thou our stock increase, And give our senates lawes successe, 'Bout marrying wives; and that, law then For men, That married they may breed A new increasing seed.

That the world informed cleere Every hundred and tenth yeere, May make solemne hymnes and playes Three dayes Bright-shining, and by night As long, with all delight.

You destinies too propagate To our past fortunes a blest fate, Let the firm determinings Of things Keep safe what once 'tis sea'd Y'have firmly prophes'ed

Let the earth full-stor'd with corn And cattell, Ceres then adorne With a coroner of wheat, And let Sweet rain and breath of Jove Our nurseries improve.

Apoll•• milde and pacifi'd (Thy artill'rie laid aside) To our suppliant youth give ear: And heare Thou horn'd Queen of the skie, (Luna) our femall fry.

If Rome be a charge of yours, And the Troy-descended powers Have kept the Roman shoares, some few By you Being bid with course secure Their gods and land t'abjure;

For whom thorow Troy all-fired Chaste Ae••eas, not expired With's countrie, without losse did lay Free way; Willing to give them more Than all they left before.

Yee gods bestow conditions sage On our train'd youth; to sweet old age Give rest: both wealth and issue too Give you, And all Majestick grace To Romulus his race.

And he that offers' you white kine, (The posteritie divine. Of Venus and Anchises) let Him get Pow'r ore his warring foe Mild to him when brought low.

The Mede now fears our potent band, And Roman arms by sea and land, The Scythians now our answers wait, Of late That were so full of pride, And th' Indians beside.

Now Faith and Peace, and Honour too, And Chastitie fam'd long agoe, And long-scorn'd Vertue dares agin Come in, And blessed Plentie here With full horn doth appeare.

And Phoebus future things divining, Adorned with his bow bright-shining, And belov'd of the nine Muses, Who Iooses With health-restoring arts The bodies toiled parts;

If he our Palatine altars see, Romes weale, and glorious Italie, Being propitious, let him still Fulfill Them to a longer date, And fate more fortunate.

And let Diana who doth hold Th' Aventine hill, and Algid cold, Our fifteene rulers prayers attend, And bend Her cares of milde condition Unto our youths petition.

And I a skilfull Chorister, Phoebus and Phoebes praise to reare, Bring home good hope, and nere to move, That Jove And all the Deities Assent unto our cries.

FINIS.