Silvae IV.7 (Mozley): A Lyric Ode to Vibius Maximus

Long time, bold Erato, hast thou had thy fill of the spreading field, but now put off thy heroic labours and contract thy mighty task to narrower circles; and thou, Pindar, ruler of the lyric choir, grant me awhile the privilege of unwonted song, if I have hallowed thy own Thebes in Latin strains: ’tis for Maximus that I attempt to refine my verse; now must I take my garlands from unplucked myrtle, now a nobler thirst is mine, a purer stream must be quaffed. When wilt thou return again to pleasant Latium from the Dalmatian mountains, where the miner returns all pale at the sight of Dis and yellow as the gold he has unearthed? Lo! I, though born in nearer lands, am not held fast by lazy Baiae’s lovely haven, or by the trumpeter known to Hector’s battles. Without thee my Muse is sluggish, even Thymbra’s lord is slower than of wont in his coming, and lo! my Achilles halts at the first turning-point of his course: while it is with thee for trusty counsellor that my Thebaid, tortured by endless polishing, attempts with audacious string the joys of Mantuan renown. But we pardon thy delaying, because thou hast established thy empty home with flourishing offspring. O happy day! lo! a second Maximus comes to us! Childlessness must be shunned by every effort; the heir with hostile vows presses hard upon it, asking—ah! for shame!—that his best friend soon may die. Childlessness wins no tears at the grave; in the captured house stands the greedy survivor, eager for the spoils of death, and counts the cost of the very pyre. Long live the high-born babe, and, by a path that few may tread, may he grow into his father’s virtues, and rival his grandsire by his deeds! Thou shalt tell thy child how thou didst lead thy swordsmen to Eastern Orontes, commanding ’neath Castor’s favour the banners of thy well-curbed squadrons. He shall relate how he followed the swift-flashing brand of invincible Caesar, and imposed a hard law on the fugitive Sarmatians, to live under one sky. But first let the lad learn thy skill, whereby retracing all the old age of the world thou dost render again the work of brief Sallust and the foster-son of Timavus.