Ignitum latus et sacrum tibi gratulor ostrum, O amor atque tuae gloria magna togae: Nam video Themis ecce humeris, Themis ardet in istis, Inque tuos gaudet tota venire sinus. O ibi purpureo quam se bene porrigit astro, Et docet hic radios luxuriare suos. Imo eat aeterna sic ô Themis aurea pompa; Hic velit ô sidus semper habere suum. Sic flagret, et nunquam tua purpura palleat intus; O nunquam in vultus digna sit ire tuos. Sanguine ab innocuo nullos bibat illa rubores; Nec tam crudeli murice proficiat. Quaeque tibi est (nam quae non est tibi?) candida virtus Fortunam placide ducat in alta tuam. Nullius viduae lacrymas tua marmora sudent; Nec sit, quae inclamet te, tibi facta domus. Non gemat ulla suam pinus tibi scissa ruinam, Ceu cadat in domini murmure maesta sui. Fama suas subter pennas tibi sternat eunti; Illa tubae faciat te melioris opus. Thura tuo, quacunque meat, cum nomine migrent; Quaeque vehit felix te, vehat aura rosas. Vive tuis, nec enim non sunt aequissima, votis Aequalis, quae te sidera cunque vocant. Haec donec niveae cedat tua purpura pallae, Lilium ibi fuerit, quae rosa vestis erat. TRANSLATION. TO THE RIGHT HON. LORD ROBERT HEATH, ON HIS BEING MADE A JUDGE: A CONGRATULATION.[119] Upon thy sacred purple, barr'd with fire, I gratulate thee--glorious, lov'd attire! For on those shoulders I see Justice shine, And glad to hide within those folds of thine. O finely there she shoots her purple beam, And teaches here her rays brightly to gleam. May Justice thus in pomp eternal go, Here always wish her golden star to glow! Thus blaze, and ne'er thy purple pale its blush, And never need into thy face to flush. From innocent blood ne'er drink a deeper dye, And turn more crimson from such cruelty. Let all fair virtues--for thou ownest all-- Calmly to heaven above thy footsteps call. No widows' tears thy marble halls distil, No house cry out against thee, built by ill; No timber cut for thee its downfall groan, 'Mid its lord's murmurs sadly overthrown. May Fame spread out her wings beneath thy feet, And thee with loud applause her trumpet greet! May incense waft thy name where'er it goes, The happy gale which bears thee bear the rose! Live equal to thy prayers, most just are they, Whatever stars direct thee on thy way, Till this thy purple turn to robe of snow, And where the rose had been, the lily glow! R. WI. HORATII ODE, Ille et nefasto te posuit die, &c. Lib. ii. 13. ἑλληνιστί.