Odes 3.5 (Creech): Caelo Tonantem

HIs Thund'ring proves that mighty Jove
With wondrous Force rules all above,
And now as mighty Actions show
That Caesar is a God below;
O're British Shores our Empires spread,
Our Arms have reacht the haughty Mede:
Could Crassus Souldiers lead their lives,
So meanly yokt to barbarous Wives?
Could they grow old (degenerate race,
Inverted Souls, and Rome's disgrace?)
In Hostile Arms, the Mede obey
And fight for a Barbarians pay?
Forget their Rites, their Name, and Blood,
Whilst Jove was safe, and Rome yet stood!
Wise Regulus did this prevent,
He scorn'd base Terms that Carthage sent,
Nor would he e're by his advice
Tempt future Age to Cowardice:
He knew that Vertues Crowns would fade
Unless the Captive Youth were made
Unpittied Preys to barbarous Foes,
And bore the Slavery they chose.
I saw, said He, our Eagles shine
And basely fill a Punick shrine,
With hanging Wings our fears upbraid
By which they were so soon betray'd:
I saw how Coward Armies stood,
And yield without a drop of Blood;
I saw when they their Arms resign'd,
Their Slavish Hands drawn back behind,
I saw our Free-men bound led home,
Bound Conquer'd Citizens of Rome!
Their Gates unbar'd, they plough'd the soyl
Which Roman Troops did lately spoyl:
Redeem'd perhaps more free from fear
More fierce they shall return to War,
More bold, more careful of their Fame;
You add new losses to your shame:
Wool once infected with a stain
Ne're takes it's Native white again:
And when true Vertue falls, it lies,
Prest down, and never cares to rise:
If trembling Does when freed from Snares
Will fight, then He'l forget his fears
Then He'l be stout who basely chose
To trust the Treachery of his Foes:
He, He no doubt, will brave appear,
And beat them in another War,
Whose Arms could tamely bear the Cords
And Whips of domineering Lords,
Who sold his precious Liberty
For meaner Life, and fear'd to Die:
Resolv'd for Life He did not know
To which he should his safety owe
His Roman Courage or his Fear,
And mixt dishonest Peace and War;
Oh shame! Great Carthage! rais'd more high
On the Disgrace of Italy!
His Wives chast Kiss, his pratling Boys
The former Partners of his joys,
Now grown a Slave, thrown down by Fate,
And less'ned from his former State
He shun'd; with manly modesty
On Earth he cast his stubborn Eye
Whilst thus by strange advice He fought,
And fixt the wavering Senate's Vote;
Then thro his weeping Friends He ran
In hast, a glorious banisht man:
What Cords and Wheels, what Racks, and Chains,
What lingring Tortures for his Pains
The Barbarous Hangmen made, He knew;
And hightning Fame told more than true:
Yet He his Wife and Boys remov'd,
His hindring Friends, and all he lov'd,
And thro the Crow'd he made his way
That wept, and beg'd a longer stay;
As free as if when Term was done,
And Suits at end, He left the Town,
From Business and from Cares retreat
To the cool pleasures of a Country Seat.