Odes 1.34 (Martin): Parcus Deorum

Unto the gods my vows were scant
And few, whilst I profess'd the cant
Of philosophic lore,
But now I back my sails perforce,
Fain to retrace the beaten course,
I had contemned before.

For Jove, who with his forked levin
Is wont to rend the louring heaven,
Of late with hurtlings loud
His thunder-pacing steeds did urge,
And winded car along the verge
Of skies without a cloud;

Whereat the huge earth reel'd with fear,
The rivers, Styx, the portal drear
Of Taenarus abhorr'd,
While distant Atlas caught the sound,
And quiver'd to its farthest bound.
The world's great god and lord

Can change the lofty to the low,
The mighty ones of earth o'erthrow.
Advancing the obscure;
Fate wrests the crown from lordly brow
On his to plant it, who but now
Was poorest of the poor.