Odes 2.20 (Martin): Non Usitata

On pinion newly plumed and strong
I'll cleave the liquid air
Predestinate, true child of song!
A double form to wear.
Earth shall not keep me from the skies,
I'll pierce the smoke of towns,
And, soaring far aloft, despise
Their envy and their frowns.

Though cradled at a poor man's hearth,
His offspring, I shall not
Go down to mix with common earth
Forgetting and forgot.
No! I, whom thou, Maecenas dear,
Dost mark with thy esteem,
Shall never pine, a phantom drear.
By sad Cocytus' stream.

Even now I feel the change begin!
And see, along my thighs
It creeps and creeps, the wrinkling skin,
In sturdy swan-like guise.
My body all above assumes
The bird, and white as snow
Along my shoulders airy plumes
Down to my fingers grow.

Now swiftlier borne on pinions bold,
Til an Icarus of yore,
The Bosphorus shall I behold,
And hear its billows roar:
Shall o'er Getulia's whirling sands,
Canorous bird, career,
And view Hyperborean lands
From heaven's own azure clear.

My fame the Colchian, and forlorn
Gelonian yet shall know,
The Dacian, too, who seems to scorn,
But dreads his Marsic foe.
The Spaniard of an after time
My minstrel power shall own,
And I be hail'd a bard sublime
By him that drinks the Rhone.

Then sing no dirge above my bier,
No grief be idly spent!
Dishonour lies in every tear,
Disgrace in each lament.
All clamours loud of woe forbear!
Respect my nobler doom,
And those superfluous honours spare,
Which load a vulgar tomb!