Page:Pindar and Anacreon.djvu/100

92 Jove's slumbering eagle on his sceptre laid,

Rests with swift plume on either side display'd.

Thy melting sounds his eyelids close

In the dark shadows of repose.

While his curved head and quivering back declare

That even in sleep thy darts have entered there.

Mars, as he listens to thy lay,

Gives his impetuous spear to rest—

Thy numbers charm his rage away,

And lull to peace his stormy breast.

Nor less are all the inmates of the sky

Sooth'd by the shafts of harmony;

Whene'er Apollo's skilful hand

Conducts the muses' sacred band.

But wretches whom immortal Jove

Deigns not to honour with his love,

Hear in confusion the Pierian strain

On earth or on the mighty main.

As Typhon, he who dared all heaven to brave,

And 'gainst the gods with hundred heads to rise,