And smiles, when mortal's anxious tear
Betrays too much a mortal's fear.
Give present sorrows present care;

The rest let time's deep river bear :
The tranquil stream now calmly glides
On towards Etruria's ocean-tides;

Now

rapid carries in its fall

Rocks, cattle, houses, mountains — all;

As the fierce whirlpool's roaring flood
Re-echoes through the neighbouring wood.

Happy the mortal who can say,
Sincerely, "I have liv'd to day;

Nor care I if the approaching morn

With sunshine or with clouds may dawn;"
Whate'er the aspect of to-morrow,

It cannot cloud to-day with sorrow;
Nor can misfortune's withering blast
Recal or chill the happy past.

Pointing how faithless honours fade

Her wanton game persists to play,

Thy friend to-morrow, mine to-day! I praise her when her gift she brings; But, if she spreads her rapid wings, That gift I willingly resign, Esteeming nought, but virtue, mine; While honest poverty I claim, Unpension'd by the fickle dame.

When winds and waves are raging high, To coward prayer I scorn to fly ;

Nor offer useless vows to save

My treasure from the thirsty wave.
Then blithely I, perchance, shall float
Safe in my little two-oar'd boat-

By Pollux and the favouring breeze
Wafted across the Ægean seas.

ODE XXX.

I HAVE rais'd a proud structure, enduring as brass, And more lofty than Egypt's pyramidal mass,

Which nor rain, nor the impotent north can o'er

I shall not all die; for a part of me yet

Shall escape the dark stream, that compels to forget; I perchance may increase, by the fame of my lays, For ever renew'd in posterity's praise.

From the capitol's summit my name shall extend, While the priest and the virgin in silence ascend; Renown'd where loud Aufidus lashes the shore, And where shallow Daunus rul'd warriors of yore; Once humble

now proud the Æolian rhyme

To have set to the measures of Italy's clime. Assume, then, sweet Muse, all pride that is thine, And my hair with the Delphian laurel entwine.

BOOK IV.

ODE I.

TO VENUS.

WHY, Venus, after long delay,
Why - why again new wars essay?
Oh, spare me, I beseech thee, spare;
I am not now - ah! would I were!
Such as kind Cinara could inspire;
Cease, cruel queen of soft desire,
Cease with too gentle chain to bind
Whom twice five lustres leave behind.
Go where more youthful prayers invoke
With purple swans thy airy yoke! —

And wouldst thou pierce a fitter heart,

Let Paulus' tender bosom smart;

A noble, and a comely youth,

Who pleads the anxious cause of truth!
He, of each gentle art the pride,
Thy myrtle-wreaths shall scatter wide;
And when-in simple charms—he smiles
At wealthier rivals' fruitless guiles,
Thy statue, near the Alban stream,
He'll guard with many a citron beam.
There shall the fragrant incense rise,
While soothing strains the lyre supplies,

Mingling with Berecynthian flute —

Nor is the reed-harmonious

mute.

There twice a day the youths shall raise

- With tender maids thy votive praise ; And thrice-like Salian priests-shall beat The jocund earth with shining feet.