Book III, Elegy 22

Has cool Cyzicus, where the isthmus streams with wave of Propontis, and the goddess of Dindymus and Cybelle fashioned from carven tusks and the path trodden by the steeds of Dis the ravisher, have all these pleased thee for so many years, my Tullus? Though perchance the cities of Helle, daughter of Athamas, delight thee, yet, Tullus, be moved by my longing for thee.

Though one gaze on Atlas supporting all the sky, and the head of Phorcys' daughter severed by Perseus' hand, the stalls of Geryon, the marks of Hercules and Antaeus wrestling in the dust, and the dances of the Hesperides; though another churn the waters of Colchian Phasis with his oarsmen and follow the whole course of the timbers hewn on Pelion, where the pine-tree, wrought into the shape of an unfamiliar ship and still strange to the sea, glided between the crags with Argos' dove for guide; though he must visit Ortygia and the shores of Cayster and the land where Nile's waters run in sevenfold channels; yet all these marvels shall yield to the land of Rome: here hath nature placed whate'er is best in all the world. 'Tis a land made for war rather than crime: Fame blushes not for thy story, O Rome. For we are stablished in power by loyal faith no less than by the sword: our anger restrains its conquering hands.

Here flowest thou, Tibur's Anio, here is Clitumnus from his Umbrian path and the Marcian conduit that shall endure for ever. Here is Alba's lake and Nemi thick with leaves, and the healing spring whence drank the horse of Pollux. But here glide no horned asps with scaly bellies, nor are Italian waters wild with strange monsters. Here clang not Andromeda's fetters in payment for her mother's sin, nor, Phoebus, fliest thou in terror from Ausonian banquets; here for no man's destruction hath burned far-distant fire when a mother compassed her own son's ruin. No fierce Bacchanals hunt Pentheus in his tree, nor are Danaan fleets launched by the substitution of a doe. Juno hath had no power to make curved horns to grow from her rival's brow nor disfigure her features beneath the form of a cow. [Here none tell of ... nor of] the trees where Sinis crucified strangers, nor of the rocks that gave bitter welcome to the Greeks, nor of the ships built only to meet their doom.

This, Tullus, is the land that bore thee, this thy fairest home; here shouldst thou seek honour that shall match thy lofty birth. Here are citizens for thine eloquence to sway, here is ample hope of offspring, and here awaits thee meet love from thy bride that shall be.