Th' uplifted trumpet, and the clarion, send, Confus'd, the mingled clang afar; Lo! while the Matron's tender breast they rend, Her Soldier hails that din of war.-- The wood-land _Chase_ desired, Far other sounds the Hunter charms; By the enlivening shout inspired, He breaks from his young Bride's encircling arms; Nor heeds the morning's wintry gale, While his deep-mouth'd hounds inhale The tainted breeze, or hold the stag at bay, Or while, from his strong toils, the wild boar bursts away. II. [2]THEE bright Learning's ivy crown Exalts above a mortal fate; _Me_ shady Groves, light Nymphs, and Satyrs brown, Raise o'er the Crowd, in sweet sequester'd state. And there is heard the Lesbian lute, And there Euterpe's Dorian flute; But, should'st thou rank me with the LYRIC CHOIR, To GLORY's starry heights thy Poet would aspire.-- 1: The Romans, in general, made no regular meal till the business of the day was over. They considered a mid-day feast as a mark of indolence and luxury. 2: “_Diis miscent superis._] A manner of expression not unusual amongst the Greeks and Latins, for any eminent degree of happiness. Unless we adopt this explanation of the words, says Dacier, we shall make Horace guilty of a manifest contradiction, since a few lines farther he tells his Patron, that _his suffrage_, not the _ivy crown_ is that, which will exalt him to the skies. The judicious emendation of the late Bishop of Chichester, who for _Me doctarum_, reads _Te doctarum_, removes all objection; and adds beauty to the Ode by the fine compliment it contains to Mæcenas.” BROM. HOR. TO PYRRHA. BOOK THE FIRST, ODE THE FIFTH. Where roses flaunt beneath some pleasant cave, Too charming Pyrrha, what enamour'd Boy, Whose shining locks the breathing odors lave, Woos thee, exulting in a transient joy? For whom the simple band dost thou prepare, That lightly fastens back thy golden hair? Alas! how soon shall this devoted Youth Love's tyrant sway, and thy chang'd eyes deplore, Indignant curse thy violated truth, And count each broken promise o'er and o'er, Who hopes to meet, unconscious of thy wiles, Looks ever vacant, ever facile smiles! He, inexperienc'd Mariner! shall gaze In wild amazement on the stormy deep, Recall the flattery of those sunny days, That lull'd each ruder wind to calmest sleep. 'T was then, with jocund hope, he spread the sail, In rash dependence on the faithless gale. Ah Wretch! to whom untried thou seemest fair! By me, who late thy halcyon surface sung, [1]The walls of Neptune's fane inscrib'd, declare That I have dank and dropping garments hung, Devoted to the GOD, whose kind decree Snatch'd me to shore, from an o'erwhelming sea.