HORACE, ODE XII. BOOK II,

To MECENAS,

N°

So bold a Theme to dare,

The Sea with Punick Slaughter red,

The fierce Numantian War;

Or drunken Centaurs, favage Brood!

Or Titans, Rebel Crew!

Whom Gods combin'd, with Terror view'd,

Whom great Alcides flew.

III.

You in Historic Prose may tell
The Palms of Cafar's Reign;

What Royal Slaves indignant fwell
To burst the Conqu'ror's Chain.

IV. Lici

IV.

Licinia's fofter Victory,

That pleasing Theme be mine,

Her Voice, her Wit, her sparkling Eye, And Heart that beats to thine.

V.

When on Diana's facred Day,

The beauteous Choirs advance;

Graceful each Virgin moves, but she
Most graceful in the Dance.

VI.

Mecenas, fay does Phrygia bear,

Or can Arabia send

Treasure, for which you would a Hair Of your Licinia lend?

VII.

Reclining, while fhe now complies,
And yields the fragrant Kiss ;

With foft Reluctance now denies

The easy-ravish'd Blifs.

PARAPHA SE on the viiith PS AL M.

God! how glorious is thy Name!

Thy Praise Heav'n's highest Orbs [proclaim,

And distant Earth resounds the same.

Thro' all thy Works fuch Pow'r appears; Such Wonders ftrike our Eyes and Ears;

So bright, fo quick on ev'ry Sense

Dart all thy Rays of Excellence;

They loose the stamm'ring Infant's Tongue, And fucking Babes excite to Song.

The ruftic Idiot looks on high,

And ftreight he's taught Philofophy:

No Books he wants, no Terms of Art;
Full flows the Language of his Heart;

While Truth, convey'd in fimpleft Sounds,
The Rage of impious Wit confounds.

Yes, Lord! When thro' the starry Height, Thy Work, I send my ravish'd Sight; When I the filver Moon behold,

And sparkling Worlds of burnish'd Gold,
(Bleft Manfions, where for ever fhine
Angelic Natures, Forms divine:)

O! What is Man? What's all his Race,
Once in thy Thoughts to find a Place?
How could thy Greatness condescend
To make this filly Worm thy Friend?
Him haft thou fo far deign'd to crown
With God-like Honours, high Renown,
Thou mak'ft him, tho' more frail, to Vie
With Cherubs felves in Dignity.

For him thy Love did first create

This fpacious World to ferve his State;

Here rais'd this Earth to be his Throne,

And bad his Pow'r each Creature own.
The fleecy Kind the Mountains feed;
The lowing Herds that graze the Mead;
The Beasts, the Birds, the finny Prey,
Thro' Streams, or Seas that cut their

way;

What Earth and Air, and what the Main,
In all their ample Stores contain;

All, all on Man thou haft bestow'd,

And thus thy Love, thy Bounty fhow'd.
O God! How glorious is thy Name!

Thy Praise Heav'n's highest Orbs proclaim,
And diftant Earth refounds the fame.

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