Odes 4.5 (Martin): Divis Orte Bonis

From gods benign descended, thou
Best guardian of the fates of Rome,
Too long already from thy home,
Hast thou, dear chief, been absent now;

O then return, the pledge redeem,
Thou gav'st the Senate, and once more
Its light to all the land restore;
For when thy face, like spring-tide's gleam,

Its brightness on the people sheds,
Then glides the day more sweetly by,
A brighter blue pervades the sky,
The sun a richer radiance spreads!

As on her boy the mother calls,
Her boy, whom envious tempests keep
Beyond the vex'd Carpathian deep.
From his dear home, till winter falls,

And still with vow and pray'r she cries,
Still gazes on the winding shore
So yearns the country evermore
For Caesar, with fond, wistful eyes

For safe the herds range field and fen,
Full-headed stand the shocks of grain,
Our sailors sweep the peaceful main,
And man can trust his fellow-men.

No more adulterers stain our beds,
Laws, morals both that taint efface,
The husband in the child we trace,
And close on crime sure vengeance treads.

The Parthian, under Caesar's reign,
Or icy Scythian, who can dread,
Or all the tribes barbarian bred
By Germany, or ruthless Spain?

Now each man, basking on his slopes,
Weds to his widow'd trees the vine,
Then, as he gaily quaffs his wine.
Salutes thee God of all his hopes;

And prayers to thee devoutly sends,
With deep libations; and, as Greece
Ranks Castor and great Hercules,
Thy godship with his Lares blends.

O, may'st thou on Hesperia shine.
Her chief, her joy, for many a day!
Thus, dry-lipp'd, thus at morn Ave pray.
Thus pray at eve, when flush'd with wine!