Odes 2.13 (Creech): Ille Et Nefasto

A Fatal Star did then command
The Skies, and guide his impious hand
Who planted Thee, to the disgrace
Of's Farm, and ruin of his Race:
'Tis certain He his Father kill'd,
He slew, and fed upon his Child,
He Stab'd his Friend before his God
And Stain'd the Image with his Blood:
To him Medea's Arts were known,
The whole World's Sins he made his own,
Who first disgrac't my Field with Thee,
Thou impious Stock, thou cursed Tree,
Thou cursed Tree whose hasty fall
Design'd thy Master's Funeral:
What each should fly is seldom known,
We unprovided are undone:
The Waves that foam round Thracian Shores
Are dreaded by the swarthy Moors,
They think cold Death doth use to trace
The Snow and Frozen Hills of Thrace,
Nor fear it from a warmer place:
The Roman dreads the Darts, the Force,
And Conquering flights of Parthian Horse:
The Roman Chains the Parthian fears,
Their steddy Troops, and weighty Spears:
Yet Death when Arm'd with a Disease
From other Parts will rudely seize,
She comes unlookt for, sweeps away
Unthinking Nations in a Day,
And huddles up her easy Prey:
How near had I, how nearly seen
The Kingdom of the swarthy Queen?
Judge Aeacus, the story'd Grove,
The seat of Piety and Love:
And Sappho who in humble strains
Of her base Country-men complains,
In sweetest tunes proclaims her Love,
But mourns at her reproach above:
Alcaeus too whose golden strings
With manlier strokes sound greater things;
He tells the dangers and the fears
Of Flights, of Sailing, and of Wars:
With silent rever'nce Ghosts admire
The wondrous fury of his Lyre:
The Vulgar Shades throng most to hear
Of Kings depos'd, of feats of War,
And Drink them with a greedy Ear:
No wonder this, Hell's furious Guard
With silent wonder stood and heard;
His Ears lay down, and, whilst he play'd,
A hollow Grin his joy betray'd:
No Hiss was heard, the Furies Snakes
Lay husht, and quiet on their necks:
Delight did torn Prometheus seize,
The sound deceiv'd him into ease;
And Tantalus felt soft repose,
Unheeded now the bending Boughs
Hang o're his Lips and Water flows:
Nor did the fierce Orion care
To hunt his Lyon, or his flying Bear.