3 6
��LATIN POEMS
��Nos etiam, patrium tune cum repetemus
Olympum, 30
JEternaeque morae stabunt immobilis sevi, Ibimus auratis per caeli templa corouis, Dulciasuaviloquosociantes carmina plectro, Astra quibus geminique poll convexa sona-
bunt.
Spiritus et rapidos qui circinat igneus orbes Nunc quoque sidereis intercinit ipse choreis Immortale melos et inenarrabile carmen, Torrida dum rutilus compescit sibila Ser-
pens,
Demissoque ferox gladio mansuescit Orion, Stellarum nee sentit onus Maurusius
Atlas. 40
Carmina regales epulas ornare solebant, Cum nondum luxus, vastaeque immensa
vorago
Nota gulae, et modico spumabat ccena Lyaeo. Turn de more sedens festa ad couvivia vates, ^Esculea iutonsos redimitus abarbore crines, Heroumque actus imitandaque gesta cane- bat,
Et Chaos, et positi late fundamina Mundi, Reptantesque deos, et alentes numina glan-
des, Et nondum 2Etnceo qmesitum fulmeu ab
antro. Denique quid vocis modulamen inane juva-
bit, 50
Verborum sensusque vacans, numerique
loquacis ? Silvestres decet iste chores, non Orphea,
cantus, Qui tenuit fluvios, et quercubus addidit
aures, Carmine, non cithara, simulacraque fuucta
canendo Compulit in lacrymas: habet has a carmine
laudes. Nee tu perge, precor, sacras contemnere
Musas, Nee vanas inopesque puta, quarum ipse
peritus Munere mille sonos nnmeros componis ad
aptos,
Millibus et vocem modulis variare canoram Doctus Arionii merit6 sis nominis hasres. 60 Nunc tibi quid mirum si me genuisse poe-
tam Contigerit, charo si tarn prope sanguine
juncti Cognatas artes studiumque affine sequa-
mur? Ipse volens Phoebus se dispertire duobus,
��warm with life. We too, when we return to our native Heaven, and when the change- less eras of eternity are ours, shall go through the skyey temples crowned with gold, matching sweet hymns to the soft beat of the plectrum; the stars and the deeps of the twin poles shall ring with them. Then that fiery Spirit who flies round the swift orbs, himself shall sing amid the starry chorus an immortal mel- ody, a song ineffable, while the ruddy ser- pent-constellation Ophiucus stills his hot hissing, and fierce Orion lowers his sword, and Atlas feels no longer the weight of the stars.
Poetry was wont to adorn the feasts of kings, in the old days when luxury and gluttony were not yet known, but when the table sparkled with seemly and moderate wine. Then, according to the good custom, the bard, seated at the convivial board, his unshorn locks bound with oak-leaves, used to chant the exploits of heroes and their emulable deeds; and Chaos, and the broad- laid foundations of the world; and the in- fant gods crawling to find their acorn food ; and the thunderbolt not yet brought from the cavern of ^Etna. And what does mere music avail without words, tune vacant of sense and eloquent numbers ? That will do for the sylvan chorus of the birds, but not for Orpheus; 'twas with his singing voice, not with the sound of his cithara, that he held back rivers, gave ears to the oaks, and drove the ghosts of the dead to tears. From song he has the praise for these marvels.
Do not, father, I pray, go on contemning the sacred Muses. Do not think them vain and poor, by whose grace you yourself are skilled to fit a thousand sounds to tune and rhythm, and vary the clear voice of the singer through a thousand modulations. You are heir by right of knowledge to the name of Arion. If it has been my good chance to be born a poet, why should you think it strange that, close-joined as we are by the dear tie of blood, we pursue kin- dred arts and studies ? Phosbus wished to
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