Odes 4.5 (Creech): Divis Orte Bonis

GReat Hero's Son, Rome's gratious Lord,
How long shall we thy absence mourn!
Thy promis'd self at last afford,
Rome's sacred Senate begs: Return.

Great Sir restore your Country light;
When your auspitious beams arise,
Just as in Spring, the Sun's more bright,
And fairer days smile o're the Skys.

As tender Mothers wait their Sons
Whom Storms have tost above a Year,
And every nimble day that runs
They load with vows, and pious fear,

They ne're their Eys from th' Shores remove,
Longing to see their Sons restor'd;
Thus Rome, inspir'd with Loyal Love,
Expects her great, her gracious Lord.

The Ox doth safely Pastur[...] trace,
And fruitful Ceres fills our Plains,
The Merchant sails o're quiet Seas,
And unstain'd Faith, and Vertue reigns.

No base Adultry stains our Race,
Strickt Law hath tam'd that spotted Vice;
The Child can show his Father's face;
Pain waits on Sin, and checks its rise.

Who doth the dreadful Germans fear
The Scythian Rage, or Parthian Bow,
Or Who the threatning Spaniards War,
Whilst Caesar lives, and rules below?

In his own Hills each sets his Sun;
To Widow Elms he leads his Vine,
And chearful, when his toyls are done,
Invokes Thee o're a Glass of Wine:

To Thee our Prayers, and Wines do flow
To Thee the Author of our Peace,
As much as grateful Greece can show,
To Castor, or great Hercules:

Long may You live, your days be fair,
Bestow long Feasts, and long Delight;
This is our sober morning Prayer,
And these our drunken Vows at Night.