Of banquets, and the vine's delicious juice.
But they who Demigods and Heroes praise
And feats perform'd in Jove's more youthful days,
Who now the counsels of high heav'n explore,
Now shades, that echo the Cerberean roar,3
Simply let these, like him of Samos4 live,
Let herbs to them a bloodless banquet give; 60
In beechen goblets let their bev'rage shine,
Cool from the chrystal spring, their sober wine!
Their youth should pass, in innocence, secure
From stain licentious, and in manners pure,
Pure as the priest's, when robed in white he stands
The fresh lustration ready in his hands.
Thus Linus5 liv'd, and thus, as poets write,
Tiresias, wiser for his loss of sight,6
Thus exil'd Chalcas,7 thus the bard of Thrace,8
Melodious tamer of the savage race! 70
Thus train'd by temp'rance, Homer led, of yore,
His chief of Ithaca9 from shore to shore,
Through magic Circe's monster-peopled reign,
And shoals insidious with the siren train;
And through the realms, where griesly spectres dwell,
Whose tribes he fetter'd in a gory spell;
For these are sacred bards, and, from above,
Drink large infusions from the mind of Jove.
Would'st thou (perhaps 'tis hardly worth thine ear)
Would'st thou be told my occupation here? 80
The promised King of peace employs my pen,
Th'eternal cov'nant made for guilty men,
The new-born Deity with infant cries