Odes 1.12 (Creech): Quem Virum Aut Heroa

WHat Man, what Hero, stately Muse,
Wilt thou deliver down to Fame?
What God for thy great Subject choose?
And make the wanton Echo sport his Name

O're Helicon's resounding Grove,
O're Pindus, or cold Hoemus hill?
Whence list'ning Woods did gladly move
And throng'd to hear sweet Orpheus wondrous quill.

He by his Mothers art could bind
The headlong fury of the floods;
Allay rough storms, appease the wind,
And loose from their fixt roots the dancing woods.

Whom first? shall I creating Jove
With pious duty gladly sing,
That guides below, and rules above,
The great Disposer, and the mighty King?

Than He none greater, next him none
That can be, is, or was:
Supreme he singly fills the Throne;
Yet Pallas is allow'd the nearest place.

Thy praises, Bacchus, bold in War,
My willing Muse will gladly show,
And, Virgin, Thee whom Tygers fear;
And Phoebus dreadful for unerring Bow.

Alcides Acts my Muse must write,
And Leda's Sons; one fam'd for Horse,
And one in close and handy fight
Of haughty bravery, and of noble force.

When both their Stars at once appear,
The Winds are husht, they rage no more;
(It is their Will) the Skies are clear,
And Waves roul softly by the quiet shore.

Shall Romulus stand next to These?
Or furious Tarquin's haughty reign?
Or, Numa's Laws and pious Peace?
Or Cato's noble fall, and fierce disdain?

The Scauri next, the Great, the Good?
Or Regulus his constant Truth?
Or Paulus prodigal of his blood
When Hannibal o'rethrew the Roman Youth?

Or shall I sing in lasting Verse
Fabricius Mind too great for Gold?
Or else rough Curius Praise reherse
In conduct prudent, and in action bold?

Him and Camillus fam'd for War,
In a poor house, and mean estate
Want poorly bred on hardy fare,
And made them strong to prop Rome's sinking Fate.

Marcellus like an Oak doth rise,
And Julius Caesar's light appears
As in fair Nights and smiling Skies
The beauteous Moon amid'st the meaner Stars.

Great Saturn's Off-spring, mighty Jove,
Whose greatest care is Caesar's fate;
Serenely You may reign above,
Whilst here Augustus keeps the second state.

And whether He in triumph leads
The Parthians that on Latium prest;
Or beats the Indians and the Medes,
And spoils the distant Nations of the East,

He less than Thou, rules all below,
Whilst Thy hot Wheels may shake the Clouds,
And dreadful Thunder fiercely throw
On Groves prophan'd, and on unhallow'd Woods.