Classic Poem

Brave and victorious in the fight,
Our Varius with Maeonian flight
Shall thine atchievements blaze,
Whate'er, beneath thy great command,
The troops have done by sea and land,
In fierce desire of praise.

Agrippa, I cannot attain
The grandeur of the epic strain,
Tho' rous'd by deeds like thine,
Nor colour up the glowing page
With Peleus' son's immortal rage,
Nor reach the great design

That artful hero to recount,
Who could by sea such toils surmount;
Nor sing the barb'rous race
Of Pelops, while the bashful lyre
Thy praise and Caesar's on the wire
Forbids me to disgrace.

What mortal pen can Mars recite,
In adamantine armour bright,
Or with the life compare
Meriones in dust involv'd,
Or him, Minerva's aid resolv'd
The Gods themselves to dare?

I sing of sports and am'rous play,
(For all these things are in my way)
And nymphs of sportive veins,
That are so apt to scratch and tear
With nails which to the quick they pare
Against their fav'rite swains.