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

  • Your Muse shall tell of public sports,
  • And holyday, and votive feast,
  • For Caesar's sake, and brawling courts
  • Where strife has ceased.
  • Then, if my voice can aught avail,
  • Grateful for him our prayers have won,
  • My song shall echo, “Hail, all hail,
  • Auspicious Sun!”
  • There as you move, “Ho! Triumph, ho!
  • Great Triumph!” once and yet again
  • All Rome shall cry, and spices strow
  • Before your train.
  • Ten bulls, ten kine, your debt discharge:
  • A calf new-wean'd from parent cow,
  • Battening on pastures rich and large,
  • Shall quit my vow.
  • Like moon just dawning on the night
  • The crescent honours of his head;
  • One dapple spot of snowy white,
  • The rest all red.