Odes 1.2 (Martin): Jam Satis Terris

Enough, enough of snow and direful hail
Hath Jove in anger shower'd upon the land,
And launching havoc with his red right hand
On tower and temple, made the city quail, —

Made all the nations quail, lest Pyrrha's age
Should come again, with brood of monsters strange,
When Proteus drove his ocean-herd to range
The mountain tops in wondrous pilgrimage.

The yellow Tiber, with its waves hurl'd back
From the Etruscan coast, have we beheld
Threaten the monuments of regal eld,
And Vesta's fane, with universal wrack.

Rising in ire, to avenge his Ilia's plaint,
He bursts his bounds, and, stirr'd through all his deeps.
O'er his left bank the uxorious river sweeps,
Though unapproved by Jove, and spurns restraint.

Thinn'd by their parents' crimes, our youth shall hear
How Roman against Roman bared the blade,
Which the fierce Persian fitlier low had laid,
Shall hear how kin met kin in conflict drear.

What god shall we, to save the state from doom,
Importune; by what pray'r shall virgins pure
Their Vesta's ear so long regardless lure,
To listen to their quired hymns? To whom

Will Jove assign the office and the might
To expiate our guilt? Oh to our pray'r,
Augur Apollo, here at length repair,
Veiling in clouds thy shoulders ivory-white!

Or, laughing Erycina, round whose head
Boy Cupid flits and Mirth on airy wing;
Or, on thine outcast sons if thou dost fling
Some kindly glances, thou, our founder dread,

Sated, alas! with war's too lengthen'd sport!
Who joy'st in gleaming helms, and battle's roar,
And, foot to foot with foemen dyed in gore,
The Marsian's flashing eye, and fateful port!

Or else do thou, sweet Maia's winged child,
Doffing the God, descend to earth, and wear
The form of youth, Caesar's avenger, there
While thou abid'st, submitting to be styled!

Long, long to heav'n be thy return delay'd,
Long, long may'st thou well pleased beside us stay,
And no fell air waft thee from earth away
At our dark crimes indignant and dismay'd!

Rather lead mighty triumphs here as now,
Joy to be call'd our Prince and Father here,
Nor let the Median unchastised career
Where Romans sway, — our leader, Caesar, thou!