Classic Poem

Book I. Ode VI.

TO AGRIPPA.

Brave , and a Conqueror; to Varius due,
And claim'd by this Maeonian wing!
His daring spirit shall your fame pursue,
And proudly of the Hero sing.

We , idle truants from the Epic Muse,
Despair of handling such a theme;
Achilles the unconquer'd we refuse,
Nor of Ulysses ever dream.

Nor we of Pelops , and his line accurs'd,
The sanguinary deeds relate;
By us no Epic themes can be rehears'd,
For we are little — these are great .

A coward-sense of diffidence and shame,
Clings to the Bard of homely song;
Protecting yours, and Caesar's deathless name,
Against the rude and feeble throng.

Who from the life can paint, with glowing hues,
Mars in his adamantine vest?
Or give in charge to Fancy and the Muse
Dust that became the cheek and crest,

Such as on Merion's gloomy aspect play'd,
Wild in his air of conquering might?
Or on his brow — that, with Minerva's aid,
Was to the Gods a match confess'd?

We sing of banquets, and of skittish maids,
Whose nails are par'd when they rebel;
Detach'd and free, or bound, in Cyprian shades,
To measures light we tune the shell.