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           Mother of Rome, delight of Gods and men,

           Dear Venus that beneath the gliding stars

           Makest to teem the many-voyaged main

           And fruitful lands—for all of living things

           Through thee alone are evermore conceived,

           Through thee are risen to visit the great sun—

           Before thee, Goddess, and thy coming on,

           Flee stormy wind and massy cloud away,

           For thee the daedal Earth bears scented flowers,

           For thee waters of the unvexed deep

           Smile, and the hollows of the serene sky

           Glow with diffused radiance for thee!

           For soon as comes the springtime face of day,

           And procreant gales blow from the West unbarred,

           First fowls of air, smit to the heart by thee,

           Foretoken thy approach, O thou Divine,

           And leap the wild herds round the happy fields

           Or swim the bounding torrents. Thus amain,

           Seized with the spell, all creatures follow thee

           Whithersoever thou walkest forth to lead,

           And thence through seas and mountains and swift streams,

           Through leafy homes of birds and greening plains,

           Kindling the lure of love in every breast,

           Thou bringest the eternal generations forth,

           Kind after kind. And since 'tis thou alone

           Guidest the Cosmos, and without thee naught

           Is risen to reach the shining shores of light,

           Nor aught of joyful or of lovely born,

           Thee do I crave co-partner in that verse

           Which I presume on Nature to compose

           For Memmius mine, whom thou hast willed to be

           Peerless in every grace at every hour—

           Wherefore indeed, Divine one, give my words

           Immortal charm. Lull to a timely rest

           O'er sea and land the savage works of war,

           For thou alone hast power with public peace

           To aid mortality; since he who rules

           The savage works of battle, puissant Mars,

           How often to thy bosom flings his strength

           O'ermastered by the eternal wound of love—

           And there, with eyes and full throat backward thrown,

           Gazing, my Goddess, open-mouthed at thee,

           Pastures on love his greedy sight, his breath

           Hanging upon thy lips. Him thus reclined

           Fill with thy holy body, round, above!

           Pour from those lips soft syllables to win

           Peace for the Romans, glorious Lady, peace!

           For in a season troublous to the state

           Neither may I attend this task of mine

           With thought untroubled, nor mid such events

           The illustrious scion of the Memmian house

           Neglect the civic cause.

                                  Whilst human kind

           Throughout the lands lay miserably crushed

           Before all eyes beneath Religion—who

           Would show her head along the region skies,

           Glowering on mortals with her hideous face—

           A Greek it was who first opposing dared

           Raise mortal eyes that terror to withstand,

           Whom nor the fame of Gods nor lightning's stroke

           Nor threatening thunder of the ominous sky

           Abashed; but rather chafed to angry zest

           His dauntless heart to be the first to rend

           The crossbars at the gates of Nature old.

           And thus his will and hardy wisdom won;

           And forward thus he fared afar, beyond

           The flaming ramparts of the world, until

           He wandered the unmeasurable All.

           Whence he to us, a conqueror, reports

           What things can rise to being, what cannot,

           And by what law to each its scope prescribed,

           Its boundary stone that clings so deep in Time.

           Wherefore Religion now is under foot,

           And us his victory now exalts to heaven.

           I know how hard it is in Latian verse

           To tell the dark discoveries of the Greeks,

           Chiefly because our pauper-speech must find

           Strange terms to fit the strangeness of the thing;

           Yet worth of thine and the expected joy

           Of thy sweet friendship do persuade me on

           To bear all toil and wake the clear nights through,

           Seeking with what of words and what of song

           I may at last most gloriously uncloud

           For thee the light beyond, wherewith to view

           The core of being at the centre hid.

           And for the rest, summon to judgments true,

           Unbusied ears and singleness of mind

           Withdrawn from cares; lest these my gifts, arranged

           For thee with eager service, thou disdain

           Before thou comprehendest: since for thee

           I prove the supreme law of Gods and sky,

           And the primordial germs of things unfold,

           Whence Nature all creates, and multiplies

           And fosters all, and whither she resolves

           Each in the end when each is overthrown.

           This ultimate stock we have devised to name

           Procreant atoms, matter, seeds of things,

           Or primal bodies, as primal to the world.

           I fear perhaps thou deemest that we fare

           An impious road to realms of thought profane;

           But 'tis that same religion oftener far

           Hath bred the foul impieties of men:

           As once at Aulis, the elected chiefs,

           Foremost of heroes, Danaan counsellors,