Odes 4.3 (Gladstone): Quem Tu, Melpomene

If with propitious eye, Melpomene,
A new-born babe thou see,
He never in the stress of Isthmian game,
Nor for Olympian fame
Will struggle; nor shall War, with Delian leaf,
Proclaim him as a chief
On our high Capitol, for threatenings quelled
Of kings that had rebelled.

No: but from streams which fertile Tibur loves
And in thick shadowy groves
Aeolian song shall be his glorious choice.
Me too: the general voice
Of Rome, the queen of cities, by its grace
Accords to me a place
In its loved choir of bards: and Envy's claw
Less now my blood can draw.

Pierian Muse! who of the golden shell
Temperest the sharper swell,
And to mute fishes canst impart a tone
Swans might be fain to own;
If me the finger of the passer-by
In Roman minstrelsy
Have marked for lord, thou didst it: if I shine
And please, 't is wholly thine.