Metamorphoses (Books I-XIV)
The Song of the Muses
5:524 First Ceres taught the lab'ring hind to plow
5:525 The pregnant Earth, and quickning
seed to sow.
5:526 She first for Man did wholsome
food provide,
5:527 And with just laws the wicked
world supply'd:
5:528 All good from her deriv'd, to
her belong
5:529 The grateful tributes of the
Muse's song.
5:530 Her more than worthy of our verse
we deem,
5:531 Oh! were our verse more worthy
of the theme.
5:532 Jove on the giant fair Trinacria hurl'd,
5:533 And with one bolt reveng'd his
starry world.
5:534 Beneath her burning hills Tiphaeus
lies,
5:535 And, strugling always, strives
in vain to rise.
5:536 Down does Pelorus his right hand
suppress
5:537 Tow'rd Latium, on the left Pachyne
weighs.
5:538 His legs are under Lilybaeum
spread,
5:539 And Aetna presses hard his horrid
head.
5:540 On his broad back he there extended
lies,
5:541 And vomits clouds of ashes to
the skies.
5:542 Oft lab'ring with his load, at
last he tires,
5:543 And spews out in revenge a flood
of fires.
5:544 Mountains he struggles to o'erwhelm,
and towns;
5:545 Earth's inmost bowels quake,
and Nature groans.
5:546 His terrors reach the direful
king of Hell;
5:547 He fears his throws will to the
day reveal
5:548 The realms of night, and fright
his trembling ghosts.
5:549 This to prevent, he quits the Stygian coasts,
5:550 In his black carr, by sooty horses
drawn,
5:551 Fair Sicily he seeks, and dreads
the dawn.
5:552 Around her plains he casts his
eager eyes,
5:553 And ev'ry mountain to the bottom
tries.
5:554 But when, in all the careful
search, he saw
5:555 No cause of fear, no ill-suspected
flaw;
5:556 Secure from harm, and wand'ring
on at will,
5:557 Venus beheld him from her flow'ry
hill:
5:558 When strait the dame her little
Cupid prest
5:559 With secret rapture to her snowy
breast,
5:560 And in these words the flutt'ring
boy addrest.
5:561 O thou, my arms, my glory, and my pow'r,
5:562 My son, whom men, and deathless
Gods adore;
5:563 Bend thy sure bow, whose arrows
never miss'd,
5:564 No longer let Hell's king thy
sway resist;
5:565 Take him, while stragling from
his dark abodes
5:566 He coasts the kingdoms of superior
Gods.
5:567 If sovereign Jove, if Gods who
rule the waves,
5:568 And Neptune, who rules them,
have been thy slaves;
5:569 Shall Hell be free? The tyrant
strike, my son,
5:570 Enlarge thy mother's empire,
and thy own.
5:571 Let not our Heav'n be made the
mock of Hell,
5:572 But Pluto to confess thy pow'r
compel.
5:573 Our rule is slighted in our native
skies,
5:574 See Pallas, see Diana too defies
5:575 Thy darts, which Ceres' daughter
wou'd despise.
5:576 She too our empire treats with
aukward scorn;
5:577 Such insolence no longer's to
be born.
5:578 Revenge our slighted reign, and
with thy dart
5:579 Transfix the virgin's to the
uncle's heart.
5:580 She said; and from his quiver strait he drew
5:581 A dart that surely wou'd the
business do.
5:582 She guides his hand, she makes
her touch the test,
5:583 And of a thousand arrows chose
the best:
5:584 No feather better pois'd, a sharper
head
5:585 None had, and sooner none, and
surer sped.
5:586 He bends his bow, he draws it
to his ear,
5:587 Thro' Pluto's heart it drives,
and fixes there.
Metamorphoses (Books I-XIV)
The Song of the Muses
5:524 First Ceres taught the lab'ring hind to plow
5:525 The pregnant Earth, and quickning
seed to sow.
5:526 She first for Man did wholsome
food provide,
5:527 And with just laws the wicked
world supply'd:
5:528 All good from her deriv'd, to
her belong
5:529 The grateful tributes of the
Muse's song.
5:530 Her more than worthy of our verse
we deem,
5:531 Oh! were our verse more worthy
of the theme.
5:532 Jove on the giant fair Trinacria hurl'd,
5:533 And with one bolt reveng'd his
starry world.
5:534 Beneath her burning hills Tiphaeus
lies,
5:535 And, strugling always, strives
in vain to rise.
5:536 Down does Pelorus his right hand
suppress
5:537 Tow'rd Latium, on the left Pachyne
weighs.
5:538 His legs are under Lilybaeum
spread,
5:539 And Aetna presses hard his horrid
head.
5:540 On his broad back he there extended
lies,
5:541 And vomits clouds of ashes to
the skies.
5:542 Oft lab'ring with his load, at
last he tires,
5:543 And spews out in revenge a flood
of fires.
5:544 Mountains he struggles to o'erwhelm,
and towns;
5:545 Earth's inmost bowels quake,
and Nature groans.
5:546 His terrors reach the direful
king of Hell;
5:547 He fears his throws will to the
day reveal
5:548 The realms of night, and fright
his trembling ghosts.
5:549 This to prevent, he quits the Stygian coasts,
5:550 In his black carr, by sooty horses
drawn,
5:551 Fair Sicily he seeks, and dreads
the dawn.
5:552 Around her plains he casts his
eager eyes,
5:553 And ev'ry mountain to the bottom
tries.
5:554 But when, in all the careful
search, he saw
5:555 No cause of fear, no ill-suspected
flaw;
5:556 Secure from harm, and wand'ring
on at will,
5:557 Venus beheld him from her flow'ry
hill:
5:558 When strait the dame her little
Cupid prest
5:559 With secret rapture to her snowy
breast,
5:560 And in these words the flutt'ring
boy addrest.
5:561 O thou, my arms, my glory, and my pow'r,
5:562 My son, whom men, and deathless
Gods adore;
5:563 Bend thy sure bow, whose arrows
never miss'd,
5:564 No longer let Hell's king thy
sway resist;
5:565 Take him, while stragling from
his dark abodes
5:566 He coasts the kingdoms of superior
Gods.
5:567 If sovereign Jove, if Gods who
rule the waves,
5:568 And Neptune, who rules them,
have been thy slaves;
5:569 Shall Hell be free? The tyrant
strike, my son,
5:570 Enlarge thy mother's empire,
and thy own.
5:571 Let not our Heav'n be made the
mock of Hell,
5:572 But Pluto to confess thy pow'r
compel.
5:573 Our rule is slighted in our native
skies,
5:574 See Pallas, see Diana too defies
5:575 Thy darts, which Ceres' daughter
wou'd despise.
5:576 She too our empire treats with
aukward scorn;
5:577 Such insolence no longer's to
be born.
5:578 Revenge our slighted reign, and
with thy dart
5:579 Transfix the virgin's to the
uncle's heart.
5:580 She said; and from his quiver strait he drew
5:581 A dart that surely wou'd the
business do.
5:582 She guides his hand, she makes
her touch the test,
5:583 And of a thousand arrows chose
the best:
5:584 No feather better pois'd, a sharper
head
5:585 None had, and sooner none, and
surer sped.
5:586 He bends his bow, he draws it
to his ear,
5:587 Thro' Pluto's heart it drives,
and fixes there.