Odes 4.15 (Creech): Phoebus Volentem

WHen I would sing of noble Fights,
Of Lofty things in lofty flights;
Kind Phoebus Harp my Temples strook,
The trembling strings in Consort shook,
And answer'd to the tunes he spoak:
Thy Ship is weak, he said, forbear,
And tempt not raging Seas too far.
Thy Age, great Caesar, gracious Lord,
Hath Plenty to our Fields restor'd:
Proud Parthians captive Arms resign
To Mighty Jove's and Caesar's Shrine.
Now noisy Wars and Tumults cease,
And Janus Temple's barr'd by Peace:
Wild Lust is bound in modest chains,
And Licence feels just order's reins:
Strict Vertue rules, good Laws command;
And banisht Sin forsakes the Land:
You all those generous Arts renew,
By which our Infant Empire grew;
By which her Fame spread vastly wide,
And carry'd in Majestick pride
From East to West serenely shone,
As far and glorious as the Sun.
Whilst Caesar lives and rules in Peace,
No Civil Wars shall break our Ease,
No Rage that fatal Swords prepares,
And hurries wretched Towns to Wars:
Not cruel Getes tho bath'd in blood,
Not those by Tanais faithless stood,
Not those that drink Danubius Stream
Shall glorious Caesar's Laws contem:
We on our Feast, and working days
'Midst jovial Cups will gladly praise;
Our Pious Wives, and pratling Boys
Shall first the Gods with humble voice,
And then with Pipes and sounding Verse
The Heroes noble Acts reherse;
Anchises, Troy our Songs shall grace,
And brave Aeneas Venus happy race.