Odes 1.3 (Martin): Sic Te Diva

May the great goddess-queen of Cyprus isle,
And those bright cressets, brothers twin of Helen,
And he that rules the winds propitious smile.
All save mild zephyr in their caverns quelling,
Thy course, O bark, directing so, that thou
May'st waft in safety to Athene's shore
My Virgil, to thy care intrusted now,
And to its love my soul's dear half restore!

In oak or triple brass his breast was mail'd,
Who first committed to the ruthless deep
His fragile skiff, nor inly shrank and quail'd,
To hear the headlong south-wind fiercely sweep,
With northern blasts to wrestle and to rave,
Nor fear'd to face the tristful Hyades,
And the wild tyrant of the Western wave,
That lifts, or calms at will the restless seas.

What form of death could daunt his soul, who view'd
Ocean's dread shapes, nor turn'd his eyes away,
Its surging waves, and with disaster strew'd
Thy fated rocks, Acroceraunia?
Vainly hath Jove in wisdom land from land
By seas dissever'd wild and tempest-toss'd,
If vessels bound, despite his high command,
O'er waters purposed never to be cross'd.

Presumptuous man, in Insolence of soul,
Sweeps to his aim through sacrilege and crime;
Heaven's fire for us the bold Prometheus stole
By fraud unhallow'd In the olden time;
Then wasting agues, hectic fevers smote
The earth, and hosts of new-born terrors spread;
And Death, till then forgetful and remote,
Quicken'd his slow, inevitable tread!

On wings not given for mortal wearing durst
Vain Daedalus to cleave the void of air;
Through fateful Acheron Alcides burst:
Naught is too arduous for man to dare.
In our unbounded folly we aspire
To heaven Itself; and such our guilty pride.
We will not let great Jove forget his Ire,
Nor lay his vengeful thunderbolts aside.