Book I, Elegy 7: The Triumph of Messalla (Postgate)

Of this day sang the Parcae as they span the thread of doom which no god can untwist — that this should be the day to put the folk of Aquitaine to rout, to make the Aude to tremble, by a valiant soldiery overpowered. So hath it come about. The men of Rome have seen new triumphs, and chiefs with shackles on their captive arms, whilst thou, Messalla, wearing the conqueror's bays, wast borne in ivory car by steeds of shining white.

Not without me was thy glory won : witness Tarbellian Pyrenees and the shores of Ocean by Saintonge ; witness Saone and swift-running Rhone and great Garonne, with Loire, blue stream of the blonde "bribes of Chartres.

Or, Cydnus, shall I sing of thee whose silent wave steals bluely through the waters of the still lagoon ? Or how with head that reaches to the clouds extends chill Taurus, the feeder of Cilicia's long-haired sons ? Why should I recount how from town to town unharmed flies the white dove that the Syrians of Palestine revere ? How Tyre, first town that learned to trust the ship to the mercy of the wind, looks out from her towers across the vast sea-plain ? Or how, when Sirius splits the parching fields, through all the heats life-giving Nile is full in flood ?

For what cause, Father Nile, or in what lands may I declare that thou hast hid thy head ? Because of thee thy Egypt never sues for showers, nor does the parched blade bow to Jove the Rain-giver. Thou art sung and worshipped, as their own Osiris, by the barbarous folk brought up to wail the ox of Memphis.

It was Osiris' cunning hand that first made ploughs and vexed the young earth with the iron share. He first entrusted seed to the untried earth, and gathered fruits from unknown trees. He showed how to join the young vine and the pole, he how to lop its green leaves with the stern pruning-hook. For him the ripe grape-clusters, which rugged feet had crushed, first yielded up their pleasant tastes ; their juice taught men to guide the voice through changing strains, and bade untutored limbs move to a measure true.

When the breast of the countryman is crushed with his heavy toil, it is the wine-god makes it over to gladness to be loosened from its bonds ; 'tis the wine-god brings relief to mortals in distress, though cruel shackles clank upon their legs.

Harsh cares and grief are not for thee, Osiris, but dance and songs and lightsome love. Yea, flowers of many hues and brows with the berried ivy circled, and robe of saffron flowing over youthful feet, raiment of Tyre and sweet-singing pipe and the light basket with its mystery of holy things.

Then hither come, and with a hundred sports and dances do honour to the Birth-sprite, and let wine in plenty bathe his temples. From his glistening hair let the ointment drip, and on his head and neck let soft garlands hang. Thus come to us to-day, Birth-spirit ; and I will bring thee offering of incense and cakes sweetened with honey from the land of Mopsopus.

But for thee, my friend, let a progeny spring up to add fresh exploits to their sire's, and stand in their distinctions about the old man's chair.

And let him not be silent on the great work of thy road whom the fields of Tusculum or white Alba's ancient homesteads keep from the city. For, heaped up through thy bounty, here is laid hard gravel, and there are flint blocks featly joined. The dweller in the country shall sing thy praise when he has come at night from the great city and brought his foot home without tripping.

But thou, Birth-spirit, come to thy honours for many a year — come ever brighter and brighter still.