XV.
Phœbus volentem.
OF battles fought I fain had told,
And conquer'd towns, when Phœbus smote
His harp-string: "Sooth, 'twere over-bold
To tempt wide seas in that frail boat."
Thy age, great Cæsar, has restored
To squalid fields the plenteous grain.
Given back to Rome's almighty Lord
Our standards, torn from Parthian fane,
Has closed Quirinian Janus' gate,
Wild passion's erring walk controll'd,
Heal'd the foul plague-spot of the state,
And brought again the life of old,
Life, by whose healthful power increased
The glorious name of Latium spread
To where the sun illumes the east
From where he seeks his western bed.
While Caesar rules, no civil strife
Shall break our rest, nor violence rude,
Nor rage, that whets the slaughtering knife
And plunges wretched towns in feud.
The sons of Danube shall not scorn
The Julian edicts; no, nor they
By Tanais' distant river born,
Nor Persia, Scythia, or Cathay.
