Horace, creator; Conington, John, 1825-1869, editor

  • Lady of Antium, grave and stern!
  • O Goddess, who canst lift the low
  • To high estate, and sudden turn
  • A triumph to a funeral show!
  • Thee the poor hind that tills the soil
  • Implores; their queen they own in thee,
  • Who in Bithynian vessel toil
  • Amid the vex'd Carpathian sea.
  • Thee Dacians fierce, and Scythian hordes,
  • Peoples and towns, and Rome, their head,
  • And mothers of barbarian lords,
  • And tyrants in their purple dread,
  • Lest, spurn'd by thee in scorn, should fall
  • The state's tall prop, lest crowds on fire
  • To arms, to arms! the loiterers call,
  • And thrones be tumbled in the mire.
  • Necessity precedes thee still
  • With hard fierce eyes and heavy tramp:
  • Her hand the nails and wedges fill,
  • The molten lead and stubborn clamp.