Brethren, let us venture all!

Virtue in your pure cheek glows. 
Phoebus will attend our call

When he sees our heavy woes;
And that we may have aright
Weapons suited to the fight,
He the mountain shaketh now—­
From its brow
Rattling down
Stone on stone
Through the thicket spread appear. 
Brethren, seize them!  Wherefore fear? 
Now the villain crew assail,
As though with a storm of hail,
And expel the strangers wild
From these regions soft and mild
Where the sun has ever smil’d!

What strange wonder do I see? 
Can it be? 
All my limbs of power are reft. 
And all strength my hand has left. 
Can it he? 
None are strangers that I see! 
And our brethren ’tis who go
On before, the way to show! 
Oh, the reckless impious ones! 
How they, with their jarring tones,
Beat the time, as on they hie! 
Quick, my brethren!—­let us fly!

To the rash ones, yet a word! 
Ay, my voice shall now be heard,
As a peal of thunder, strong!

Words as poets’ arms were made,—­

When the god will he obey’d,
Follow fast his darts ere long.

Was it possible that ye
Thus your godlike dignity
Should forget?  The Thyrsus rude

Must a heavy burden feel

To the hand but wont to steal
O’er the lyre in gentle mood. 
From the sparkling waterfalls,
From the brook that purling calls,
Shall Silenus’ loathsome beast
Be allow’d at will to feast? 
Aganippe’s * wave he sips
With profane and spreading lips,—­
With ungainly feet stamps madly,
Till the waters flow on sadly.

Fain I’d think myself deluded

In the sadd’ning sounds I hear;
From the holy glades secluded

Hateful tones assail the ear. 
Laughter wild (exchange how mournful!)

Takes the place of love’s sweet dream;
Women-haters and the scornful

In exulting chorus scream. 
Nightingale and turtle dove

Fly their nests so warm and chaste,
And, inflamed with sensual love,

Holds the Faun the Nymph embrac’d. 
Here a garment’s torn away,

Scoffs succeed their sated bliss,
While the god, with angry ray,

Looks upon each impious kiss.

Vapour, smoke, as from a fire,

And advancing clouds I view;
Chords not only grace the lyre,

For the bow its chords bath too. 
Even the adorer’s heart

Dreads the wild advancing hand,
For the flames that round them dart

 Show the fierce destroyer’s hand.

Oh neglect not what I say,

For I speak it lovingly! 
From our boundaries haste away,

From the god’s dread anger fly! 
Cleanse once more the holy place,

Turn the savage train aside! 
Earth contains upon its face

Many a spot unsanctified;
Here we only prize the good.