And quench the formidable thunderbolt Of unrelenting fire. With slacken'd wings, While now the solemn concert breathes around, Incumbent o'er the sceptre of his lord 270 Sleeps the stern eagle, by the number'd notes, Possess'd, and satiate with the melting tone, Sovereign of birds. The furious god of war, His darts forgetting, and the winged wheels That bear him vengeful o'er the embattled plain, Relents, and soothes his own fierce heart to ease, Most welcome ease. The sire of gods and men In that great moment of divine delight, Looks down on all that live; and whatsoe'er He loves not, o'er the peopled earth and o'er 280 The interminated ocean, he beholds Cursed with abhorrence by his doom severe, And troubled at the sound. Ye, Naiads, ye With ravish'd ears the melody attend Worthy of sacred silence. But the slaves Of Bacchus with tempestuous clamours strive To drown the heavenly strains, of highest Jove Irreverent, and by mad presumption fired Their own discordant raptures to advance With hostile emulation. Down they rush 290 From Nysa's vine-empurpled cliff, the dames Of Thrace, the Satyrs, and the unruly Fauns, With old Silenus, reeling through the crowd Which gambols round him, in convulsions wild Tossing their limbs, and brandishing in air The ivy-mantled thyrsus, or the torch Through black smoke flaming, to the Phrygian pipe's [DD] Shrill voice, and to the clashing cymbals, mix'd With shrieks and frantic uproar. May the gods From every unpolluted ear avert 300 Their orgies! If within the seats of men, Within the walls, the gates, where Pallas holds [EE] The guardian key, if haply there be found Who loves to mingle with the revel-band And hearken to their accents, who aspires From such instructors to inform his breast With verse, let him, fit votarist, implore Their inspiration. He perchance the gifts Of young Lyaeus, and the dread exploits, May sing in aptest numbers; he the fate 310 Of sober Pentheus, [FF] he the Paphian rites, And naked Mars with Cytherea chain'd, And strong Alcides in the spinster's robes, May celebrate, applauded. But with you, O Naiads, far from that unhallow'd rout, Must dwell the man whoe'er to praised themes Invokes the immortal Muse. The immortal Muse To your calm habitations, to the cave Corycian[GG] or the Delphic mount, [HH] will guide His footsteps, and with your unsullied streams 320 His lips will bathe; whether the eternal lore Of Themis, or the majesty of Jove, To mortals he reveal; or teach his lyre The unenvied guerdon of the patriot's toils, In those unfading islands of the bless'd, Where sacred bards abide. Hail, honour'd Nymphs; Thrice hail! For you the Cyrenaic shell, [II] Behold, I touch, revering. To my songs Be present ye with favourable feet,