Our youth, less numerous by the vices of their fathers, shall hear of the citizens having whetted that sword [against themselves], with which it had been better that the formidable Persians had fallen; they shall hear of [actual] engagements.  Whom of the gods shall the people invoke to the affairs of the sinking empire?  With what prayer shall the sacred virgins importune Vesta, who is now inattentive to their hymns?  To whom shall Jupiter assign the task of expiating our wickedness?  Do thou at length, prophetic Apollo, (we pray thee!) come, vailing thy radiant shoulders with a cloud:  or thou, if it be more agreeable to thee, smiling Venus, about whom hover the gods of mirth and love:  or thou, if thou regard thy neglected race and descendants, our founder Mars, whom clamor and polished helmets, and the terrible aspect of the Moorish infantry against their bloody enemy, delight, satiated at length with thy sport, alas! of too long continuance:  or if thou, the winged son of gentle Maia, by changing thy figure, personate a youth upon earth, submitting to be called the avenger of Caesar; late mayest thou return to the skies, and long mayest thou joyously be present to the Roman people; nor may an untimely blast transport thee from us, offended at our crimes.  Here mayest thou rather delight in magnificent triumphs, and to be called father and prince:  nor suffer the Parthians with impunity to make incursions, you, O Caesar, being our general.

* * * * *

ODE III.

To the ship, in which Virgil was about to sail to Athens.

So may the goddess who rules over Cyprus; so may the bright stars, the brothers of Helen; and so may the father of the winds, confining all except Iapyx, direct thee, O ship, who art intrusted with Virgil; my prayer is, that thou mayest land him safe on the Athenian shore, and preserve the half of my soul.  Surely oak and three-fold brass surrounded his heart who first trusted a frail vessel to the merciless ocean, nor was afraid of the impetuous Africus contending with the northern storms, nor of the mournful Hyades, nor of the rage of Notus, than whom there is not a more absolute controller of the Adriatic, either to raise or assuage its waves at pleasure.  What path of death did he fear, who beheld unmoved the rolling monsters of the deep; who beheld unmoved the tempestuous swelling of the sea, and the Acroceraunians—­ill-famed rocks?

In vain has God in his wisdom divided the countries of the earth by the separating ocean, if nevertheless profane ships bound over waters not to be violated.  The race of man presumptuous enough to endure everything, rushes on through forbidden wickedness.