Classic Poem

Book I. Ode I.

M Y heart's delight — my wreath, and friend!
Though sprung from Kings, and from a race
Of Heroes born, to me descend,
With me the Ruling passions trace!

Some in their glowing wheels delight,
Proud of the dust their chariots raise;
Wind round the marks that rule their flight,
And are the Gods of human praise.

Me , Ivy-wreaths, to Poets due,
Me , the cool groves and currents please;
The Nymphs in frolick I pursue,
Nor envy Kings — possess'd of these.

But, if permitted, and by thee,
With Lyric Bards from earth to rise;
With head sublime, erect, and free,
I 'll claim from Stars the radiant prize.