BOOK II. ODE I. TO C. ASINIUS POLLIO. THE factions of Metellus' times, Our warfare's causes chances crimes, Impetuous Fortune's blind intrigue, Unexpiated-you deplore. A dangerous task! - and boldly tread On fires, with faithless embers overspread. Awhile the tragic Muse resign, Let Clio's harp alone be thine; Thy Attic work of buskin❜d fame; Thou solace of defendants' tears, Thou born to calm the senate's fears, Pollio, on whose immortal brow Dalmatia's laurel'd triumphs proudly glow. Hark! how thy trumpets shake the shore! Hark! hark! thy stunning clarions' roar! See, how thy dazzling arms affright Now mighty chiefs my fancy hears, Whom not inglorious dust besmears; All earth submissive owns control, All, but unbending Cato's stubborn soul. Juno, with gods who cherish'd more, But fail'd to avenge the Afric shore, Brought back-to appease Jugurtha's ghostThe sons of the victorious host. But mark with tombs where Latians bled? What gulfs- what rivers, as they flow, What sea but rocks a purpled flood? What shore unstain'd by Daunian blood? * Then cease not, saucy Muse, thy joke; Nor Cean funeral-strains invoke ; But come thy lighter harp to wield, In Dionæan cave - with me conceal'd. ODE II. TO C. CRISPUS SALLUSTIUS. SALLUST, thou enemy to gold, Which niggard mines in darkness hold, No lustre do our treasures show, Unless with temperate use they glow. Long years shall Proculeius share, A brother with a father's care With wing untir'd, surviving Fame Shall bear aloft his deathless name. Thou reign'st-thy avarice once subdu'd Farther than should thy power include Libya, with Gades' distant bay, And either Carthage own'd thy sway. Dropsy by self-indulgence grows; Nor thirst departs, while, lingering, flows The cause of ill within the veins, And watery languor - pale — remains. Virtue, who spurns the crowd's behest, On Cyrus' throne; - and bids us fly The crown, the laurel, and the throne, Conferring upon him alone, |