Swift growth and wonderous grace, O heavenly Jove,
Waited thy blooming years: inventive wit,
And perfect judgment crown'd thy youthful act.
That Saturn's fons receiv'd the three-fold empire
Of Heaven, of ocean, and deep hell beneath,
As the dark urn and chance of lot determin'd,
Old poets mention, fabling. Things of moment
Well nigh equivalent and neighbouring value
By lot are parted: but high Heaven, thy fhare,
In equal balance laid 'gainst sea or hell,
Flings up the adverse scale, and fhuns proportion.
Wherefore not chance, but power, above thy bre-
Exalted thee, their king. When thy great will
Commands thy chariot forth; impetuous ftrength,
And fiery swiftness wing the rapid wheels,
Inceffant; high the eagle flies before thee.
And oh! as I and mine confult thy augur,
Grant the glad omen; let thy favourite rise
Propitious, ever foaring from the right.
Thou to the leffer Gods haft well affign'd
Their proper fhares of power: thy own, great Jove,
Boundless and univerfal. Those who labour
The fweaty forge, who edge the crooked scythe, Bend ftubborn fteel, and harden gleening armour, Acknowledge Vulcan's aid. The early hunter Bleffes Diana's hand; who leads him fafe
O'er hanging cliffs; who spreads his net fuccessful,
And guides the arrow through the panther's heart.
The foldier from fuccefsful camps returning
With laurel wreath'd, and rich with hoftile spoil,
Severs the bull to Mars. The skilful bard,
Striking the Thracian harp, invokes Apollo,
To make his hero and himself immortal.
Thofe, mighty Jove, mean time, thy glorious care,
Who model nations, publish laws, announce
Or life or death, and found or change the empire.
Man owns the power of kings; and kings of Jove.
And, as their actions tend fubordinate
To what thy will designs, thou giv'ft the means
Proportion'd to the work; thou fee'ft impartial,
How they thofe means imploy. Each monarch rules
His different realm, accountable to thee,
Great Ruler of the world: These only have
To speak and be obey'd; to those are given
Affiftant days to ripen the defign;
To fome whole months; revolving years to fome:
Others, ill-fated are condemn'd to toil
Their tedious life, and mourn their purpose blafted With fruitless act, and impotence of council.
Hail! greatest fon of Saturn, wife difpofer Of every good thy praise what man yet born Has fung or who that may be born fhall fing? Again, and often hail! indulge our prayer, Great father! grant us virtue, grant us wealth: For without virtue, wealth to man avails not;
And virtue without wealth exerts lefs
And lefs diffufes good. Then grant us, gracious, Virtue and wealth; for both are of thy gift.
HAH! how the laurel, great Apollo's tree,
And all the cavern shakes! far off, far off,
The man that is unhallow'd: for the God,
The God approaches. Hark! he knocks; the gates
Feel the glad impulse: and the fever'd bars
Submiffive clink against their brazen portals.
Why do the Delian palms incline their boughs,
Self-mov'd and hovering fwans, their throats
From native filence, carol founds harmonious?
Begin, young men, the hymn: let all your harps
Break their inglorious filence; and the dance,
In myftic numbers trod, explain the mufic.
But first by ardent prayer, and clear luftration
Purge the contagious fpots of human weakness:
Impure no mortal can behold Apollo,
So may ye flourish favour'd by the God,
In youth with happy nuptials, and in age
With filver hairs, and fair descent of children;
So lay foundations for afpiring cities,
And bless your spreading colonies' increase.
Pay facred reverence to Apollo's fong;
Left wrathful the far-fhooting God emit
His fatal arrows. Silent Nature ftands;
And feas fubfide, obedient to the found
Of lö, IÖ PEAN! nor dares Thetis
Longer bewail her lov'd Achilles' death:
For Phoebus was his foe. Nor must fad Niobe
In fruitless forrow perfevere, or weep
Ev'n through the Phrygian marble. Haplefs mo
Whofe fondnefs could compare her mortal off
To thofe which fair Latona bore to Jove.
Lö! again repeat ye, I Pean!
Against the deity 'tis hard to ftrive. He that refifts the power of Ptolemy,
Refifts the power of heaven, for power from
Derives; and monarchs rule by Gods appointed,
Recite Apollo's praife, till night draws on,
The ditty still unfinish'd; and the day
Unequal to the godhead's attributes.
Various, and matter copious of your fongs.
Sublime at Jove's right hand Apollo fits,
And thence diftributes honour, gracious king,
And theme of verfe perpetual. From his robe
Flows light ineffable: his harp, his quiver,
And Lictian bow are gold: with golden fandals
His feet are fhod; how rich! how beautiful!
Beneath his steps the yellow mineral rifes;
And earth reveals her treasures. Youth and beauty
Eternal deck his cheek; from his fair head
Perfumes diftil their sweets; and chearful Health,
His dutious handmaid, through the air improv'd,
With lavish hand diffufes fcents ambrofial.
The fpear-man's arm by thee, great God, directed,
Sends forth a certain wound. The laurel'd bard,
Infpir'd by thee, compofes verfe immortal.
Taught by thy art divine, the fage phyfician
Eludes the urn; and chains, or exiles death.
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