Od. Iii. 3. The Just Man'S Single-Purposed Mind Not Furious Mobs That Prompt To Ill May Move, Nor Kings' Frowns Shake His Will Which Is As Rock; Not Warrior-Winds That Keep The Seas In Wild Unrest; Nor Bolt By Jove'S Own Finger Hurled: The Fragments Of A Shivered World Would Crash Round Him Still Self-Possest. Jove'S Wandering Son Reached, Thus Endowed, The Fiery Bastions Of The Skies; Thus Pollux; With Them Caesar Lies Beside His Nectar, Radiant-Browed. For This Rewarded, Tiger-Drawn Rode Bacchus, Reining Necks Before Untamed; For This War'S Horses Bore Quirinus Up From Acheron, When In Heav'N'S Conclave Juno Said, Thrice Welcomed: "Troy Is In The Dust; Troy, By A Judge Accursed, Unjust, And That Strange Woman Prostrated. "The Day Laomedon Ignored His God-Pledged Word, Resigned To Me And Pallas Ever-Pure, Was She, Her People, And Their Traitor Lord. "No More The Greek Girl'S Guilty Guest Sits Splendour-Girt: Priam'S Perjured Sons Find Not Against The Mighty Ones Of Greece A Shield In Hector'S Breast: "And, Long Drawn Out By Private Jars, The War Sleeps. Lo! My Wrath Is O'Er: And Him The Trojan Vestal Bore (Sprung Of That Hated Line) To Mars, "To Mars Restore I. His Be Rest In Halls Of Light: By Him Be Drained The Nectar-Bowl, His Place Obtained In The Calm Companies Of The Blest. "While Betwixt Rome And Ilion Raves A Length Of Ocean, Where They Will Rise Empires For The Exiles Still: While Paris'S And Priam'S Graves "Are Hoof-Trod, And The She-Wolf Breeds Securely There, Unharmed Shall Stand Rome'S Lustrous Capitol, Her Hand Impose Proud Laws On Trampled Medes. "Wide-Feared, To Far-Off Climes Be Borne Her Story; Where The Central Main Europe And Libya Parts In Twain, Where Full Nile Laves A Land Of Corn: "The Buried Secret Of The Mine, (Best Left There) Resolute To Spurn, And Not To Man'S Base Uses Turn With Hand That Spares Not Things Divine. "Earth'S Utmost End, Where'Er It Be, May Her Hosts Reach; Careering Proud O'Er Lands Where Watery Rain And Cloud, Or Where Wild Suns Hold Revelry. "But, To The Soldier-Sons Of Rome, Tied By This Law, Such Fates Are Willed; That They Seek Never To Rebuild, Too Fond, Too Bold, Their Grandsires' Home. "With Darkest Omens, Deadliest Strife, Shall Troy, Raised Up Again, Repeat Her History; I The Victor-Fleet Shall Lead, Jove'S Sister And His Wife. "Thrice Let Apollo Rear The Wall Of Brass; And Thrice My Greeks Shall Hew The Fabric Down; Thrice Matrons Rue In Chains Their Sons', Their Husbands' Fall." Ill My Light Lyre Such Notes Beseem. Stay, Muse; Nor, Wayward Still, Rehearse God-Utterances In Puny Verse That May But Mar A Mighty Theme.