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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=457211" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The First Hymn Of Callimachus. To Jupiter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">While we to Jove select the holy victim<br>Whom apter shall we sing than Jove himself,<br>The god for ever great, for ever king,<br>Who slew the earthborn race, and measures right<br>To heaven's great 'habitants? Dictaean hear'st thou<br>More joyful, or Lycaean, long dispute<br>And various thought has traced. On Ida's mount,<br>Or Dictae, studious of his country's praise,<br>The Cretan boasts thy natal place; but oft <br>He meets reproof deserved; for he, presumptuous,<br>Has built a tomb for thee who never know'st <br>To die, but liv'st the same to-day and ever.<br>Arcadian therefore be thy birth: great Rhea,<br>Pregnant, to high Parrhasia's cliffs retired,<br>And wild Lycaeus, black with shading pines;<br>Holy retreat! sithence no female hither,<br>Conscious of social love and Nature's rites,<br>Must dare approach, from the inferior reptile<br>To woman, form divine. There the bless'd parent<br>Ungirt her spacious bosom, and discharged <br>The ponderous birth; she sought a neighbouring spring<br>To wash the recent babe: in vain: Arcadia,<br>(However streamy now) adust and dry,<br>Denied the goddess water: where deep Melas<br>And rocky Cratis flow, the chariot smoked <br>Obscure with rising dust: the thirsty traveller<br>In vain required the current, then imprison'd<br>In subterranean caverns: forests grew<br>Upon the barren hollows, high o'ershading<br>The haunts of savage beasts, where now Iaon,<br>And Erimanth incline their friendly urns.<br>Thou, too, O Earth, great Rhea said, bring forth,<br>And short shall be thy pangs. She said, and high<br>She rear'd her arm, and with her sceptre struck<br>The yawning cliff: from its disparted height<br>Adown the mount the gushing torrent ran,<br>And cheer'd the valleys: there the heavenly mother<br>Bathed, mighty King, thy tender limbs; she wrapp'd them<br>In purple bands; she gave the precious pledge<br>To prudent Neda, charging her to guard thee <br>Careful and secret: Neda, of the nymphs<br>That tended the great birth, next Philyre<br>And Styx, the eldest. Smiling, she received the<br>And, conscious of the grace, absolved her trust;<br>Not unrewarded, since the river bore<br>The favourite virgin's name; fair Neda rolls<br>By Lepricon's ancient walls, a fruitful stream:<br>Fast by her flowery bank the sons of Arcas,<br>Favourites of Heaven, with happy care protect <br>Their fleecy charge, and joyous drink her wave.<br>Thee, god, to Gnossus Neda brought: the Nymphs<br>And Corybantes thee, their sacred charge,<br>Received: Adraste rock'd thy golden cradle:<br>The Goat, now bright amidst her fellow stars,<br>Kind Amalthea, reach'd her teat, distent<br>With milk, thy early food: the sedulous bee<br>Distill'd her honey on thy purple lips.<br>Around, the fierce Curetes (order solemn<br>To thy foreknowing mother!) trod tumultuous<br>Their mystic dance, and clang'd their sounding arms,<br>Industrious with the warlike din to quell<br>Thy infant cries, and mock the ear of Saturn.<br>Swift growth and wondrous grace, O heavenly Jove,<br>Waited thy blooming years: inventive wit <br>And perfect judgment crown'd thy youthful act.<br>That Saturn's sons received the threefold empire <br>Of heaven, of ocean, and deep hell beneath,<br>As the dark urn and chance of lot determined,<br>Old poets mention fabling. Things of moment,<br>Well nigh equivalent and neighbouring value,<br>By lot are parted; but high heaven, thy share,<br>In equal balance laid 'gainst sea or hell,<br>Flings up the adverse scale, and shuns proportion:<br>Wherefore not Chance, but power above thy brethren,<br>Exalted thee their king. When thy great will<br>Commands thy chariot forth, impetuous strength<br>And fiery swiftness wing the rapid wheels<br>Incessant; high the eagle flies before thee.<br>And, oh! as I and mine consult thy augur,<br>Grant the glad omen; let thy favourite rise<br>Propitious, ever soaring from the right.<br>Thou to the lesser gods hast well assign'd<br>Their proper shares of power, thy own, great Jove,<br>Boundless and universal. Those who labour<br>The sweaty forge, who edge the crooked scythe,<br>Bend stubborn steel, and harden gleaming armour, <br>Acknowledge Vulcan's aid. The early hunter<br>Blesses Diana's hand, who leads him safe<br>O'er hanging cliffs, who spreads his net successful,<br>And guides the arrow through the panther's heart.<br>The soldier, from successful camps returning <br>With laurel wreath'd, and rich with hostile spoil,<br>Severs the bull to Mars. The skilful bard,<br>Striking the Thracian harp, invokes Apollo,<br>To make his hero and himself immortal.<br>Those, mighty Jove, meantime thy glorious care,<br>Who model nations, publish laws, announce<br>Or life or death, and found or change the empire.<br>Man owns the power of kings, and kings of Jove:<br>And as their actions tend subordinate<br>To what thy will designs, thou gav'st the means <br>Proportion'd to the work; these only have <br>To speak and be obey'd; to those are given<br>To some whole months; revolving years to some:<br>Others, ill-fated, are condemn'd to toil <br>Their tedious life, and mourn their purpose, blasted <br>With fruitless act and impotence of counsel.<br>Hail! greatest son of Saturn, wise disposer<br>Of every good; thy praise what man yet born<br>Has sung? or who that may be born shall sing?<br>Again, and often hail! indulge our prayer,<br>Great Father! grant us virtue, grant us wealth<br>For without virtue wealth to man avails not,<br>And virtue without wealth exerts less power,<br>And less diffuses good. Then grant us, Gracious,<br>Virtue and wealth, for both are of thy gift.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Matthew+Prior">Matthew Prior</a><div class=q>
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Whom apter shall we sing than Jove himself,
The god for ever great, for ever king,
Who slew the earthborn race, and measures right
To heaven's great 'habitants? Dictaean hear'st thou
More joyful, or Lycaean,..."></div>
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