POETRY.

HORACE.

HOOK DI., ODE 29.

TO M.ZECENAS.

M.EcENA.s, thou whose lineage springs

From old Etruria's Kings, Come to my humble dwelling. Haste ; A cask nnbroached of mellowed wine Awaits thee, roses interlaced And perfumes pressed from nard divine.

Leave Tibur sparkling with its thousand rills ; Forget the sunny slopes of 2Esulw, And rugged peaks of Telagonian hills That frown defiance on the Tuscan sea.

Forego vain pomps, nor gaze around From the tall turret of thy palace home On crowded masts, and summits temple-crowned, The smoke, the tumult, and the wealth of Rome.

Come, loved Mmcenas, come I How oft in lowly cot Thicurtained, nor with Tyrian purple spread, Has weary State pillowed its aching head And smoothed its wrinkled brow, all cares forgot ?

Come to my frugal feast and share my humble lot.

For now returning Cepheus shoots again His fires long-hid ; now Procyon, and the Star Of the untamed Lion blaze amain : Now the light vapours in the heated air Hang quivering : now the shepherd leads His panting flock to willow-bordered meads By river banks ; or to those dells Remote, profound, where rough Silvanus dwells, Where by mute margins silent waters creep, And the hushed zephyrs sleep.

Too long by civil cares opprest Snatch one short interval of rest, Nor fear lest from the frozen North Don's arrowed thousands issue forth, Or hordes from realms by Cyrus won, Or Scythians from the rising sun. Around the future Jove has cast A veil like night : he gives us power To see the present and the past, But kindly hides the coming hour, And smiles when man with daring eye Would pierce that dread futurity.

Wisely and justly guide thy present state, Life's daily duty : the dark future flows Like some broad river, now in calm repose Gliding untroubled to the Tyrrhene shore, Now by fierce floods precipitate, And on its frantic bosom bearing Homes, herds, and flocks, Drowned men and loosened rocks ; Uprooted trees from groaning forests tearing ; Tossing from peak to peak the sullen waters' roar.

Blest is the man who dares to say, " Lord of myself, I've lived to-day : To-morrow let the Thunderer roll Storm and thick darkness round the pole, Or purest sunshine : what is past Unchanged for evermore shall last : Nor man, nor Jove's resistless power Can blot the record of one vanished hour.

Fortune capricious, faithless, blind, With cruel joy her pastime plays, Exalts, enriches, and betrays ; One day to me, anon to other kind.

I can approve her when she stays, But when she shakes her wanton wing, . And soars aloft, her gifts to earth I fling, And, wrapped in Honour's mantle, live and die Content with dowerless poverty.

When the tall ship, with bending mast, Reels to the fury of the blast, The merchant trembles, and deplores, Not his own fate, but buried (stores From Cyprian or Phcenician shores;— He with sad vows and unavailing prayer Rich ransom offers to the angry gods : I stand erect : no groans of mine shall e'er Affront the quiet of those blest abodes : My light, unburthened skiff shall sail Safe to the shore before the gale, While the twin sons of Leda point the way, And smooth the billows with benignant ray.

STEPHEN DE VERB.