Panegyric Addressed to Constantine Augustus

Thou who once wast adorned by a fair little book,

carry, Thalia, my song into the hands of Augustus.

About to approach shining in purple, written with characters gleaming in silver and gold,

marking out the utterances with a painted border,

well arranged by the writer's hand, and deservedly resplendent,

fit for the sacred gaze of our gracious Lord:

now pale, suffused with a dark colour on the page,

scarcely distinguishing thy songs with poor vermilion,

hence with trembling foot thou seekest the venerable halls, because thy face is now too unsightly.

What garb the presence of the poet's destined fortunes deserve,

scarcely has this place, from which thou comest, provided even that.

Yet thou mayest go as a suppliant, and beseech the Lord;

squalor and this meanness befit the wretched.

When in his clemency he shall have granted pardon, and restored thy child and home,

thou too shalt go with adorned locks,

gleaming in purple raiment, radiant within,

as once, proud of thy writings.

You see the altars once dedicated to pythian phoebus,

Skilfully polished by the poet's musical art,

Thus beautifully the most sacred people adorning phoebus.

In these temples whatever choirs of poets offer sacrifice,

So many adorned with garlands and with flowers of the muse,

To be set in the heliconian light of songs,

No harsh craftsman has polished me with care;

I am not hewn from the rock of the white mountain,

Gleaming like the moon, Nor from parian heights;

Not cut by gold, Nor shaped by the chisel's point.

To raise the first angles as they stand forth,

And soon to propagate the second ones more widely,

And to withdraw each one by degrees,

To bring the curved lines with a slender step,

The rule everywhere thus measured, Then by this same law,

So that the border may be square with a threefold limit,

Or thence the spindle-Line may again be stretched downward,

Broader by art, In due order;

They fashion for me meters by the measures of tens,

The number of feet never changed, Only varied.

This rule, Kept by learned precepts,

By which the elements of the verses grow and diminish,

Giving these images of meters as a suppliant to phoebus,

May it joyfully take its place among the holy temples and choirs.

Kindly glory of the world, Highest ruler, Pious governor of the earth,

AUGUSTUS, Governing the peoples with unconquered virtue,

CONSTANTINE, Peacemaker of the unbridled nations

By the rule of justice and by moderation of empire,

Whom the divine emperor constantius begot,

Spreading golden ages for the romans through his son;

ALAS, Hastening all too swiftly to heaven, Had he not left behind

That eternal help, Unconquered and just and pious, Kindly father of the fatherland, TO US, Greatest caesar, THYSELF,

Glory of ausonia, O pious light of the sons of romulus.

It is pleasing to the gods above that these joys of the world

Be so well divided through perpetual ages:

The stars they give to the father, And the father's empire,

HOLILY, To thee, Given as the golden light of great rome.

These things the lofty muse of the rustic poet sings to thee.

CONSTANTINE, Glory of the world, Golden light of the age, Who may sing your mingled trophies with wondrous piety: Exulting leader, O highest one, My page comes with new vows, Rivalling that which the calliope of my renowned father composed in such wise; Now my mind, Drenched with such liquor, Pours forth verse-Making joys, A wave to helicon, And may it turn forth from my breast new divine favor for the clement one; For i, In singing, Shall tell the numbers of the great-Souled one. The sceptres of the leader—Greece gives us the gifts of garza—And you strengthen the ages of the blemmyes with an allied boundary.

Romulean light, Worthy with new flourishing vows, I sing what is written in vow, With another hinge of mars covered; Now by wars the whole mystic thing is read through for the citizen, That the rubicon may lie open, The heavens sought with equal right; Now happy, With my own gaze scrupulously fixed upon the spaces, Now the exulting muse spurs me to mark with signs; Glad phoebus now marks the joys along the way noted through me; Sing too of the laurel, Woven in a new net, With a new plectrum, With art painted in signs, Applauding the happy ages: THUS, With faithful leader, The poet's heat, Plucking pithian strains.

Now let not shameless envy scorn me the highest; Now may i be able well to cleave the aged sea with the oar; If i stretch the whole night-Bearing sail scrupulously, Bearing forth the platforms, Weaving together the ship that is seen; The muse, Joined with your renowned hope, Enters upon the vow; Let not the weary mind be broken through the twisted gap; My praise, Standing firm on foot with the great mass of teaching, Shall declare openly the most joyful signs with a sacred stream; With good mind let him despise the highest contest set for himself; After the fruit of vows, Clemency shall return the contest to mars.

Thus to us, When read, Whereby the golden ages grow,

SOON, Kindled for latium, You will render twice-Twenty years,

Songs which she fashions adorned with a wondrous name,

The happy page, Marking with varied flower, Gives a vow,

Recalling the notable destinies of the augustan offspring;

Let him judge, Or with pious witness let fitting things be prepared for the parent;

The happy deeds of the grandsons shall be joined to the titles.

They are in Greek, beginning from the left side of the monogram, of which one, having performed the remaining parts of the same sign, is ended by the middle letter N,

The ship always, an ornament for you, fitting to be inhabited (Sic).

The other, descending from there to the hull of the ship, closes the appearance of the rudder at the end of its part.

It is as follows,

Stretched taut by the favorable winds of your virtue.·

But the verses which either begin from the prow, or from the beak, or from the oars, or beneath the prow, ending at the furthest point of the stern, have overcome the woven pattern; others enclose the vows. Which are as follows,

Let the sailor now, safe, most greatly despise the storms,
Let him now, safe, most greatly despise the black storms,
Safe, let him despise storms heaped up with the highest trophies.
With evil driven from his mind, let him most greatly despise the storms.
With good hope too, let Rome most greatly despise the storms.
Happy Rome ever flourishes by your vows.

We would fashion from your divine countenance, That it might breathe fragrance, The accomplished services of the whole world in verse, O nurturing father, And our vows, If the order of phoebus' reasoning suffice not, They tell of deeds which the placable deity of the aonian muses grants to enjoy by the poet's lot with the gifts of song; From this raising up and urging the mouth to sound forth in verse, You ever inspire the mind with joy, You have called the poet into your sanctuary, You who with learned camena grant that words be uttered, You joyful and favoring our second vows; May they be calm and approved by your hearing, Gentle ruler of olympus.

Serene piety preserves the foremost times; Now golden, VICTOR, Your ages flourish throughout all the world. O constantine of the heavens, With the laws of meter loosed, This bond moves the muses in a great train, About to speak. Yet scarcely does my calliope weave the painted songs of phoebus, When she rejoices in the measures, If she make our vows prosperous; The delian God also weaves in, And another muse along an equal path; May the undertaking be aided, Marking golden ages in verse. But toward you the devoted mind is snatched up into joys, And boldly the words advance through devious vows.

The aonian maidens have trusted, And by what laws their true words are bound, With all mind and faith they call upon the poet's voice, Your own, O prince renowned; So great are the wars they sing, And with the pegasean draught they practice new songs, And by this bond they now wish the very threads to sound. That the illustrious empire should discharge so great a duty, And that lofty things should be aided to be uttered through intricate verse—This is a wondrous work of mind, To weave a song into meters for various courses, Scarcely confined within a narrow boundary; May it swiftly bear through from this the knotty designs of art.

And yet, daring to speak, the mind seethes before so great a poet;

nor is it granted to believe the song worthy of its vows,

singing by such a law as our page alone,

drawn from Helicon, will fulfill as love's office,

painted with the varied musical weave of letters.

This song has thirty-five letters through every verse. And the first verse, running by a turn from the first letter to the last letter of the first verse, is,

The Muse might be able to fashion countenances with such a song;

By a similar turn, through the acrostic running downward from the second letter to the second-last, the word Augusti remains, the law both of the metre and of the verse being kept;

Likewise by a similar turn, the last verse from its first letter to its last,

Painted with the varied musical weave of letters,

So too again by an equal turn in the telestich from the second letter downward to the second-last,

The page will burn to conquer the waxen tablets of Apelles.

Likewise, from the eighteenth letter of the first verse, descending straight down through the middle of the verse,

Great things will be sought if the poet's joyful Muse sings.

Likewise, at the eighteenth letter of the acrostic, straight through the middle of the verse,

May the beginnings aid, marking with verse the golden ages.

Holy one, may you live, Caesar; have mercy, serene one.

Augustus, all-powerful, gladdening all mortal things with your kindly divinity,

grant us joys; let your name, Constantine,

come from this fruitful song. With you as leader,

may the Muses grant them; for sad care refuses noble deeds.

Now the Fates lay down their charges; then more surely

a confident voice will proclaim you lord, ruler of virtues.

Scarcely could I compose these things in verse;

thus at least let Calliope, conscious with her nod,

scarcely speak to me, trembling, as to a sorrowful poet.

He nodded assent to the poet's bold prayer, and declared the fates,

that the sad parts, once marked, might be closed off by a boundary,

so that, by equal law, the poem, harmonious throughout its midst,

in every part its first letter may be known, and let its last part likewise be such,

as, meeting the first letters more fittingly there in the middle,

at the ends of the sides, and the part which divides what has begun,

may be able to be the head from the middle, and to give back the verse.

Holy, serene Caesar, have mercy on your poet.

Kindly salvation of the world, glory of Rome, renowned in fame,

better in restoring, a father in piety, in war a victor.

Milder shall I come, soothing the harshness of the laws,

justice, eternal strength and the glory of the age,

hope given in fullness of good things, and a happy abundance of affairs,

outstanding pillar of the men of old in virtue and in faith,

great father of Rome, avenger amid civil arms,

and the welcome praise of the highest God, a mind bright from on high,

salvation sent down to affairs through you, peace, best of leaders,

and untroubled quiet amid wars, all things made holy through you,

the most faithful right hand granting to husbands alone their own rights,

and offering the social yoke, the sharing of life.

Look upon me, greatest ruler, afflicted by a false charge,

by the penalty of exile—for the rest belongs to the case;

now, venerable Deity, grant pardon for what is charged against me;

graciously conquer, and, surpassing as is your wont, the decrees of fate.

Holy, serene Caesar, have mercy on your poet.

Constantine, father, thou, glory of the world, consul: behold, renewed by thy labour, thou shalt grant so many kingdoms thrown open through countless peoples; soon, dear to the peoples of the East, thou shalt bring pious laws to so many nations, and thou, Augustus, alone in the whole world shalt scatter thy name even to its farthest bounds. The Sun shall make thee happy by his perpetual favour and hope; the good art of justice, neighbour to the honour of the gods, receives the gifts of the bounteous Good One from heaven; thither it flows. Whatever vows hoary Piety might have wished for, she now attains; holy Ceres returns them, and the earth yields the fallen gifts of Bacchus.

With its own streams the gifts are not disturbed by the blast of Eurus; the vast sea stands calm while the South Wind is mild under the prince; the state, thriving through just measures, joins its own signs to Bootes, and the farthest stars rise favourably on the right. Greatest is the light of justice; Concord is her name, peace-bringing; the whole world, now wounded, longs for thee and prays that thou wilt swiftly lighten its weary affairs with peace; thou, serene, shalt join the vows of thy world, and join to thyself the willing nations.

Now shall I sing the mighty deeds of the leader, ruling now over the whole world—deeds which, glad under so great a prince, illustrious Rome, head of the world, again holds fast in song. Thou, O goddess, inspire the bard; do thou inspire him. Torn by bloody dominions, the weary portion, sundered, groaned beneath the sky, and mourned the lost sceptres and rights of Ausonia. If there be any trust in things so great, the Roman name marks its lords with glory and with such titles; but they seek freedom. And the mournful, greatest region of the world trembles for its own right, whence Hyperion first shining sends forth the ray of light.

Once the stars are driven away, it spreads abroad from its ruddy rising your name, much to be venerated by all, greatest tamer of warring men, light, victor of the world; with perpetual vows they desire your memorable divine power, they long to serve, they wish—wonderful to say—both their substance and their household to be yours: so great is your glory, O just one. Behold, it delights your Augustus that your people, now under this covenant, submit the whole world, after so many slaughters which the weary groaned under, all things now at last trembling with no disturbance, to serve the pious commands of Romulus, illustrious father.

O you who trample with holy foot the jaws of Tartarus, O you who take pity on your own, who grant that the fiery temples of the Most High be of heaven, the pious realms of light above; you, the eternal power of God, with you, O Christ, all things—then, Father, when the mass, once begun, covered in sluggish squalor emerged, and its covering laid aside, smiled upon it uncovered, before the births of men, you, O holy and divine one, to the Thunderer secret powers—whom you, while alone holding the mind of the begetter, prudent, God of the inner God, from the beginnings, offspring of none, mighty where bloody death had reigned.

Because Death was reigning, it poured forth its ratified joys through a marrow-laden mouth, nor did it please that men, cast down, be broken by perpetual punishment from their gloomy births; then you were the way of life to the prostrate, but nevertheless of old, by prophetic warning, the fates of the seers were foretelling you; because you, eloquent, thence arisen, error was driving on, as the Sower of things brought forth from his mouth the sum of counsel; O Christ, wisdom of the true Father, put forth by the word into the abounding world, him thrust into the chains of death, soon you take on man, and whatever is the one power for salvation.

Deign to regard the lowest things, because by the right order of nature, that you might help the stricken, bending yourself down to him who lay prostrate; your body not drawn from earthly weight, but from on high, a virgin, her womb made fruitful from seed, and not born of sluggish union, but by the warmth of a spouse; bodily in countenance, god in act, chance in both, inviting his commands by examples, and dedicated to man, an equal lord, such as, heavy to the frail, was said to be human, destroyed by divine imitation; you yourself proceed under the title of man, and yourself to the profane.

Especially to be punished by the Jews, after a thousand pious offices you permit, and you paid the wholesome death; soon a night, hanging over, slays the human offenses; but the seats lie open, and receive and bear away the Son; the sacred structure gives an eternal sign to the saved.

Almighty Father, and thou, O mingled distinction,

Son and Father, and Holy Spirit, one:

mayest thou favor these prayers.

It dares to compose discordant things joined together in words

It delights, With good omen and broad mind, To renew, Famous of tongue,

The gifts of the greeks, Modulating the muse anew,

And in turn to sing in verse what by chance in latin

Is now to be led, In another text of the greeks, Into songs,

In order, So that the letter may be bound into a twofold voice.

Now come, Let the fruitful, Most beautiful muses cut short,

Let the docile lyre sound with its mouth the famous songs of phoebus.

The hope of things and the just one shall i sing, And the sum of salvation,

YOU, LORD, The good gifts of God, YOU, Great father.

The roman and greek world to you, Greatest ruler,

Because all things breathe out certain peace with a quiet mind,

May the hostile ones look with placid eyes upon a thousand triumphs.

All things full of good, Your quirites, O constantine,

Have believed nothing dearer to themselves than you, Glory of the world,

Preserved for the tyrrhenians ever by your avenging right hand.

With you as lord they exult, Dearer to the tranquil city,

Africa enjoys times of preserved quiet,

Now happy in itself, Now by the use of the power of the citadel,

Because safe carthage bears a venerable glory.

Rightly it thinks so much that the famous light surpasses the fates,

NOBLE, With you as lord, Is the name, The hope, And the nourishing glory.

Every rough region from the northern bounds to taurus

Loves the laws of peace, Tested and everlasting,

AND, Faithful to you, Always fights well with your arms,

And by your virtue carries on its affairs, And drives back and cuts down fierce peoples,

Having things dear and owed to you;

And your lot receives victors, Hence brave men for you,

And with you as leader the unconquered cohorts raise their standards,

Accompanied on every side by the pious divine powers of the highest God.

To all they offer an avenger, and laws and faith;

kindly one, all things look to thine, all answer to thy vows;

everywhere, with all things made peaceful, savior, to the greatest affairs

thou wilt grant joys, thou wilt give leisure, victor, throughout the world.

By the merits of thy virtues, command the vows of the twentieth year;

of the ages the foot has grown twin, sure hope in Caesar.

And thou, O holy father, once, after a thousand trophies,

O way of the Ausonians, arranging the scepters of thy grandsons.

Few things indeed I have sung, perhaps trifling; to these too I add

playful things—thus our Muse will compose at thy command.

This she sought, applauding, by the divine will of happy Phoebus,

Calliope, dividing for herself new bonds with fresh cares,

by windings, as at first, with a rule discordant in its fashioning;

hence sounding otherwise, beyond the Pythian bendings,

so the countenance, so often when the heat has strengthened,

so the mind, not conquered into idleness, but wounded with wrath,

to be filled with the varied arts of the weightier meter—

at last, meditating, scarcely is it permitted to know the god's heats.

Rightly she may wish, while in the midst of the line she sets in place

the image of the star, and preparing, with trembling speech, secretly

to speak, nor fearing, thus to compose all things bound together from their very origin—

but again now she urges Bassus to bring forth the song;

here the verses, taught, will flow from the Muse's fountain,

woven through in Castalian order by their names.

Hanging on the leafy top of a lofty oak

I bear witness that the temples of the place are thronged, Celebrated by fauns

Fashioned with unequal measures and as many reeds

Pan delighting the woods with sweet-Sounding melody

The choruses of naiads and dryads, And the secret

Rites of bacchus, And the satyrs crying euhoe through the musical vales of tempe

Taught me, PAN, To the sacred bands, With the melody of song

And first bound together the fellowship varied with sounds

ATTIS, KINDLY, LOVING, Your greatest care, CYBELE

The God wears away with rosy mouth and soft lip

And the mother kindled your idaean loves

In me the happy muses inspired songs

Me the judge of beauty bore aloft on ida

Me as companion in joyful vow, Neighbor to the husband

She sings, SUMMONED, Under the rising of the eastern light

O blessed prince, now already under a calm skY

Serene, with the world favoring just peopleS

Triumph, victor, bestowing a health-giving divine poweR

Ruling the ages with love, everlasting, auspiciouS

The author of salvation, rising, shall go in peacE

With the right hand from on high favoring the lords’ vowS

Rejoices to come under the peaceful omen of the rulinG onE

Virtue, radiant with vigor, serenely grantS

For the holy ones to see the remote things of the worlD

The health-giving divine power ruling the whole world belowN

You will conquer everywhere the gods above, with favoring noD

Ruling alone, blessed, through every agE

Now indeed, blessed prince, beneath a peaceful sky,

With the world favoring the peoples, serene one, to the just,

Bestowing wholesome divine power, triumphing as victor,

Ruling with everlasting love over prosperous ages,

The author of salvation shall go forth quietly rising,

With the right hand from on high favoring the lords' prayers,

He rejoices to receive the peaceful omen of the ruler.

Serene virtue, shining with vigor, grants

To see the remote things of the world with the holy powers above,

Governing wholesome divine power throughout the whole world,

With favoring assent you will conquer the powers above everywhere,

Alone, blessed, ruling through every age.

He groaned heavily, Pitying his greek friend,

To whom my mind, Grieving at what had been admitted, Wishes to tell all things,

ALONE, LEST, Reading these hidden things, He stir himself to anger,

Lest from everywhere the guilty one be held bound and afflicted,

But avoiding the many whom the wife, Joined by a foul quarrel,

Would wish as witnesses, Lest the fair woman shame the greek,

Soon she dulls the dear one's darts, The wicked swan's nothing,

Seeing that helen had laid down her favor toward both,

Greater than the adulteries, She willingly gives all gifts,

The muse sounds for the greeks; TRUST, WIFE, The singing phrygian

As victor, Strong in starry virtues, You shall go

Restoring the persian borders to latium along with your sons

NOW, PRINCE, With the east joyfully received by the nile

Whom faithful concord, RICH, Dedicates to you among the eastern peoples

Now to the parthian and median peoples dedicated as one

To the augustus and his sons, YOU, Holy one, Great joys

CONSTANTINE, The muse favors, And in so great a song

And paints your twentieth-Anniversary festivals in traced meters

But you, Once a famous leader in arms, To suppliants

GRANT, With piety, FAITH—The glory of the honors of your ancestors

If you could preserve all, After the vows, For the trophies

To spare now the conquered—Nourishing virtue now proclaimed

The indian, The arab now bring their vows, And rich media

The ethiopians, KNOWING, When with swift light

The titan rises from tethys' bosom—All things sit glad

CONSTANTINE, Now leisure shall play in a good age

Happy muse demands for your deeds worthy things to relate

Rewards of virtues by merits, Or to sound them forth by voice

WHY, WANDERING, Do you compose pierian verses beneath shady valleys

With oak, With laurel—Why do you pluck your songs

I stand, And it answers with castalian voice the triumphs

Which clarius gives from his own fountain—Bring forth your songs

Worthy of a God-Inspired bard, OR IF, DARING, It shall bear forth

A greater work, WEAVING, The mind shall undergo with its whole mass

With hope it shall paint the song; So let the muse compose what is begun

And complete the varied decennial in painted verse

Vowing favorable words under the fixed limit of meter

Golden ages gave the leisure of peace to the caesars

Indulging his sons with the honor of paternal piety

Mild by right, A God, Under christ's strong powers

Not doubtful shall i be snatched away, To guard the rhine and the rhone

Farther off they prepare, And the franks their gloomy laws

Now you, Holy boy, HOPE, Duly restored to quiet

Sent to the heavens, Grant to the ages, O constantine, SERENE

SEASONS, Supreme one, In pious vow receive the thirtieth year

Since writings composed thus give pleasure, the Muses dare things off the beaten path for themselves;

In the two lines that follow, which are, XX,

To mark out, through various measures, the devoted things of the mind;

Likewise of three letters, which are, CAE,

The joys which my Phoebus, painting them, tells of the Camena.

In the two which stand in the fourth place, S. X,

Supreme Father, grant that with pious voice the thirtieth year be proclaimed.

Holy glory of the world, The keen sum of things, The highest of salvation,

Holy light of the lands, With you alone as prince, To the ages

A golden age comes, Destined to rejoice in immense blessings,

Sent from the highest God, Gracious father, With tyrants overthrown,

Justice comes into the lands, And the shining glory of truth,

And with you as leader, Faith more welcome and laws reborn,

And with the tyrants entirely crushed by a huge weight,

The harsh violence of war has been laid down; By right, ITALY'S

Threefold scepter she will give to the peoples; The pious world of the east, By vow,

AUGUSTUS, You shall pass into the unconquered shores of the world

And thou too, suppliant Syene, surrounded by all thy leaders, dost pray for our laws, and dost desire for thyself the joys of our light. The Parthian desires, loves—behold the deceitful and treacherous weapons of his flight—he has laid them down; he rushes headlong from every shore of the Red Sea’s coast, at the heavenly nod, in a contest of love. The Mede, the Arab, presently all exult to praise thy serene shores with true and holy trophies. These titles thou mayest conquer more happily by love, ever renewing golden ages for the world—the Indian, and the soldier of the Dawn, whom the river Nile

touches with fruitful waters of the fecund flood; a noble nation by birth, praying, will seek the favoring breeze; all the Ethiopians obey, and the desired blessings of the world; a happier age has given us joyful times. Behold, the suppliant Persians do not wish royal power for themselves; they prefer thee as their lord; prostrate, they ever adore thee; they desire to yield to thee, with all their own realms, their coasts entire. Thou, pious and truly mindful of justice, glorious one, give with joy good answers, ever most gentle to the world; graciously bestow thy divine favor, and add thereto.

May they be the more blessed alike whom thou, kindly one, dost protect; and joining together the restored divisions of the sorrowful world, unite the equal realms; may Rome grant her laws to willing peoples; with thee as prince, more happily, over the nations, in a gentle land, let all things rejoice, golden, with flourishing fortunes.

Accept, adorned with new verse, golden light of the world,

the pious signs of the merciful God and the eternal vow;

the Highest favors it, and the whole people duly ask for joys,

and believe them deserved, since it keeps the commands in due manner

of Augustus, and, proven under the law of Christ's faith,

glory has now advanced into a mild age, shining white,

gathering assemblies together, and all adorned with serene

gifts, granting to his sons that the laurel vows

should already owe the titles of virtues in their first years—

such offspring as the noble age has begotten.

By these, glory from the great-grandsire, and conscious of true offspring,

Rome flows nourishing, foremost of unconquered soldiery,

loving the leisure of peace—these are the gentlest gifts.

This merit of the ancestor, after the world was turned about, brought forth

its bursting fruit, and taught that they should not know how to break

the best laws of faith, equal in cares under unjust Mars;

faith harmed by none—for you the fates weave the threads in the web of the yoke,

following with placid piety;

and now the state of Constantine illustrious fame brings forth,

increased by pious stock, heaped up with an everlasting vow.

Your sacred seat migrates to the joys of the mind,

resting happy in the ethereal pole of the world.

Now, lest through the labor of war the wealth of ancestral virtue be lessened,

I shall tell of merits and of a serene mind,

and I shall sing pious gifts and fruitful hearts, known

duly to God—thus in mind do they flourish, to whom belong chaste joys—

Claudius, unconquered in wars, bore great distinctions

of virtues, won from the Gothic soldiery;

his son Constantius, powerful in his age, filled all things with peace

and, increased with just gifts, filled the ages with abundance.

THIS, Sprung from greater merits with surer faith,

You grant to the world as a gift, And surpass things past;

And through your sons you win great praises,

By deed, By law of God, And by everlasting commands shall be made

The ages, With you, CONSTANTINE, Ruling with pious and serene sceptre.

A wondrous work, To bring forth both all things and such verses,

Thus a little while to be crowned with ivy, Having been granted by you for a time—

Soon you are present, Whereby again you may snatch what i offer, Made firm;

I am yours, And from the first you lead me on, That i might be happy;

Nor deceitful, Bestowing a bold and illustrious gift,

You match the spirit; Now let clio strengthen the songs

Which can be woven; I shall lay them down like threads upon a rule,

Which may sweep themselves along, Which may be bound together and joined with care.

You will give these powers; You again will weave together rewards;

In great darings, JOYFUL, You run even to opposite things.

For from the heavy fountain of the aonian maids the new art shines forth in its veins,

Immense things, With a full embrace, Or with the whole they resound;

To look forward, To plant only in a certain manner, Lest it send forth something vain,

And cast forth, Nor yet consumed, Bound by the girdle of the book—

Let them be pleasing; Let our sharpness of mind grow forth,

To draw out the firm and dense living things of the soul,

Let them discern that the zealous agree, Those who know well

The hidden laws, By which they may behold the verses arranged;

Gentle judge of minds, Who in all ages increase by your character,

You show forth a wondrous gift, Polished things divine in a ruler.

Dweller of treves, Receiving a joyful sight of your increase

By which you may grant prosperous deeds as joys

Of the tax-GATHERER, It is first what he wishes to name as cares

He has made the sense of sidonius into the inner shrine of his patron

To know what you may there, Unless in the couch the law

Is hidden, ABSTRUSE; Compel the noble, NEWLY

Burning with poverty, With twin vows to new joys

RICH, He gilds the covenants with apollo's plectrums

This one, LEARNED, Knows the praises and whatever he may foretell beforehand

Are under good omens; Be thou favorable at once

With the saints press on in faith, Hastening into the ample

By clement nod, AUGUSTUS, These blessed gifts to you

He praises, That he may bestow; And as consul he fulfills the rewards

Hence then your applause from names on festive days

Most abundant and prudent in affairs, Who would grow dull in use

Degenerate in use; From here more hope presses on:

Receive with eager vow this gift, O good and renowned man

Kindly one, your laurel age shall raise you to the stars;

by your light you mark your glory, consul without limit;

serene in war you hold the offices of the Greeks, once rejected;

and you grant that the kindled sceptres of the Mede may return;

grim, famous on the field of the Getae, as it loses its lights;

the happy troop wishes, with the curved weapon, its own blow at close quarters;

the light leader of the Armenians to bear it, the sun too, you with your javelins;

so too the victor reports, with Dacia risen, the Franks;

by law your shorn Rhine puts forth for you an exile;

let the columns of weapons go under, they who wage wars with a murmur.

To conquer the flourishing Latin peoples, the Sarmatian under your leadership;

king, to you belongs power over the Getae, avenger seen from the frontier;

he saw you as the highest column, where the heat of true summer stood;

the servile sea pressed down the Nysian yokes in the ocean;

and the light, risen with fresh rays, rouses the trophies;

behold, they rejoice in piety, spread abroad on high, ever act;

may you strengthen the bard; being now called upon, let the lyre sing of you;

virtue increased by God, adorning the Muses the more, laid open;

alone the Romulean people, known far and wide, offer their vows;

holy Clio mingles her vows with your trophies.

The grace of painters is beheld and grows through song

If you go among the twenty through thule powerful in grace

Such a torch gentle with signs the lyre bears as gifts

The bard begins equal verses which he carries through in delian rhythm

With purple light the venerable one shall have led as the sun

By laws that as ancestor you may hold the tribunal of janus in the world

You shall have excellent titles of piety through love

So many straits of peace the summit rejoices to be changed by gift

India wishes to touch the latium of the key-Bearer by ship

The nile-Dwelling reaper hands over his camps or his army

The bear, Which scarcely knows itself to be plucked, This muse shall make known upon its shore

Thus these cultivated ones, Among curving swords, Their minds

It delights you to enjoy the snowy citadel; It increases the glory of the sea

ROME, SISTER, The ancient ones whom we behold with our face

O nourishing one, Age shall raise your laurels to the stars

O nourishing one, age shall raise your laurels to the stars.

Golden light of the bards, keep for me the rewards of the grove.

Virtue, increased by God, adorns the Muses the more when made manifest.

Golden piety proclaims the victor with a fruitful tongue.

Piety, and divine arms, delight the Aonian waters.

Piety, and trophies of arms, delight the flower of Augustus.

Piety delights the Aonian shoots with fruitful soil.

Castalian Muses, grant the palm to the lord of virtues:

Constantine holds the trophy of wars by right,

the avenger, happily restoring the world beneath his right hand,

again persuading by counsels, and recalling all things.

Though savage Rome could entangle you in wars,

virtue, bearing the yoke, does not arm the gentle against the foe.

Thus, patient in the great contest, sparing, he taught

what piety, being merciful, grants after dire propitiations.

Now, O Camenae, skilled through all Helicon,

send forth palms composed for these gentle times.

Weave songs of the virtues from their merits, and all

sing together, that the fruit may be happy and worthy of the prince,

that it may give forth pleasing offshoots, which the page, weaving in verse,

may hence vow as songs powerful with the title of vows.

May the Pierian founts, Phoebus, by your divine will, grant to me,

and, going indeed through the Castalian spring, traversing the rock,

my mind will seek the lofty ridges, if it be granted me to compose in verse.

May the Muse, now joyful under so great a prince,

be willing, bearing gifts of praise, resounding with famous branches,

that I may boldly, faithfully, tell of the ordered triumphs of the conqueror.

And it is a noble merit to render so many palms as bidden,

which the flowing water, watered in the Aonian valley, nourishes.

Holy salvation of the world, blazing with famous arms,

Crispus, better than your grandsire, joyful with a favoring song,

Clio the Muse, sounding, declares your fair youth.

You are the noble glory of your father, and, kindly one, of the Quirites,

and you shall be the hope of the city—this, Caesar, by the song of my mind.

You, ever conquering, most gracious in the covenants of peace,

grant indulgence, and readily join to yourself the nations that entreat,

and, rejoicing in your own right, cause your virtues to increase.

CONSTANTINE, Likewise the praise of the world, The glory of the age,

ROMULEAN, INDEED, Gentle light, Renowned among brothers,

Nobility from forefathers, True and memorable in fame,

Victorious caesar has restored the name and the honor,

Holy father, Ruler of the heavenly ones, May the joyful twenty-Year festivals

Grow tenfold for the augustus and for his sons

Castalian maidens, enclose the palm with a well-trained verse.

Constantine, be gracious; now I call you Phoebus for my songs.

My mind calls, having dared to lay down new laws for the meters.

The branches growing on every side beneath an equal boundary.

So that the verse, woven together by the song of the Muses, may render it.

CALLIOPE, Sing more, Bold one, Serene in speech,

The castalian founts—GODDESS, HEAR—And thence the tuneful (STREAMS),

My mind rages, Bound fast, And happy to run amid its vows,

NOW, EXULTING, It trusts itself; It is pleasing to go through pathless wastes,

With what impulse my steps (MOVE), And the longed-For desire of speaking,

INVITED, Has borne my mind so far, Greatest caesar,

SWIFT, It embraces the knots of the aonian heaven,

Pour forth, FATHER, The muses upon my beginnings, Turned to mutual verse,

Shaping rough songs with so harsh a verse,

It is permitted for us to play, To presume to utter the meters

Grant, my Muse, that it be mine to unfold my joys, though in slender song—

so great an honor is mine, by its own right, through the stars, unto the age,

O glory of Ausonia, may it bear so much, though spoken small,

still more—behold, the Judge, the Lord, grants so many, so great gifts,

and you grant such great things, that you allow the mind to speak of your gifts,

unwilling in praise, yet with the gift itself thus wandering from the first,

you read things unheard, nor let the Muse be wounded by the words,

she dares, for the great-souled one, new bonds of vow for minds,

commands to be given; and, seized by my favor, it grew,

lo, come now, it renders to the vows the pious rewards, great one.

To a harmonious age, glory of Rome, and to itself the world's rule,

its own laws it holds; so great a light for the peoples, and for the world a trophy;

thus are they given; by this the greater still is your glory upon the earth,

lo, Augustus, present in yourself, and everywhere so great,

fruitful for empires you now prepare, under the omen of Christ,

the untouched shores of Ocean, from which the Franks, uprooted,

that region yields, far off—behold, a god, for whom the pathless

lies open in wide fields, that with the boundary cut, victorious,

duly better than his great ancestor, for whom fierce Claudius,

a great-souled star, gives bright, by divine will.

Empire and virtue—whom, happy one, he wishes for his foster-child,

you increase; may our life flourish through you, and owed to you,

arising, shines the fated glory of the brothers for the age,

the affairs of Latium, master of your own, thus may it rejoice, increased,

behold, peace being made, a joyful light is born beneath the world.

In this poem there are thirty-five letters through all its parts. In which, from the first letter of the first verse to the last of the final one, a red line descending obliquely, has written,

Constantine, greatest emperor and unconquered.

Likewise, from the first letter of the last verse ascending obliquely in red, up to the last letter of the first verse, there is written likewise,

Most provident guardian of eternal peace.

From the seventh letter of the first verse to the seventh from the end of the same verse, ascending in a winding course,

Father, you command; grandfather, may you command.

Likewise from the seventh letter of the last verse to the seventh from the end of that same verse, it has the same thing written. From the thirteenth letter of the first verse to the thirteenth from the end of that same verse it has written,

Pious and fortunate.

By the same reckoning the same thing is written also in the last verse.

From the seventh letter of the acrostic to the seventh from the end of the acrostic, it has written,

Restorer of the golden age.

This same thing is likewise written from the seventh letter of the telestich to the seventh from the end of that same telestich. From the thirteenth letter of the acrostic to the thirteenth from the end of that same acrostic it has written,

Great in all things.

The telestich has this same thing written likewise, from the thirteenth letter of the telestich to the thirteenth of that same telestich.

The Muse, bold in imitating martial deeds with sounding measures, weaves songs after the likeness of the troops, and now leads a column drawn up upright by a fivefold threshold, standing apart by a sevenfold boundary of Muse-born space; now, reading over the same verses however the course may run, it sends the companies, broken by no single rule, into their windings, rejoicing that discordant things are composed in varied song, pleasing to the mind by its docile turning from a continuous meter—the ending arising again, joining its boundaries against the opposing bounds, setting them before the beginnings with no discrepancy of meter.

Nay even the middle parts, well-trained, perform their own duties, unfolding in reversed alternations; for it closes the courses, however doubtful, and the byways, as one, displaying its art, offers to be bound by rugged crags; the Sarmatian slaughter upward, yet wholly accomplished—vows, I pray, may you favor, hidden beneath a sure vision, a poet skilled in deeds, to tell such great things—now so often, Augustus, it is permitted on the field, with hostile blood, after wars, dripping most closely over the whole, bodies poured out upon the ground, submerged, the river filled.

Let the victrix wonder at the crowds and the fierce battle-line; very many things shall I attempt, rejoicing in Phoebean song, to recall on the margin these heavenly deeds of the good one, and to speak of entries and of wars struck down amid ruins—by which the conquered race lies fallen through hard Mars, witness thereof the great neighboring Bononia, present, goes having gained its vow, beholding the cut-down columns, the yokes from the captives, and leads the rest as spoils. Great battles for the victor we labor to build with the plectrum to tell; nor is it enough if the vow be fulfilled by mouth alone.

And whatever Muses it prepares to sound under law, bound together in rugged measures, perfected songs, it wishes to resound in my verses, and the well-known trophies to mark, as witness, with painted meters, together with a sacred offering, that the storms of the devoted mind be appeased into fate.

In this poem there are thirty-five letters in every verse: through the whole page run two verses written in red, each of five parts of speech, each of which has seven letters, of which the last letter remaining fixed, the other four change places among themselves in such a way that the first, if you wish, may be the fourth, and the fourth again the first; the second, when you wish, may be the third, and the third, when you wish, may be the second; and with the last letter remaining fixed, the verse becomes reciprocal in many ways, not only changing itself, but obtaining the same principle of variation together with another verse, the order of the parts being preserved, whichever part you wish to change, so that you may change any part of speech according to the order of its own letters. These are the two verses:

Rejoicing to be bound with the discordant thread of the Muses,
I shall attempt grand songs with the Phoebean quill.

This same verse runs through various windings, upward and downward. In this same poem there are four squares in the corners of six letters each, two triangles, and two larger right-angled figures halved, and one hexagon in the middle, and scalene figures through the four corners, all with an equal number of letters, and increasing or decreasing in equal order, that is, all similar—triangles to triangles, right-angled figures to right-angled figures, squares to squares, scalene figures to scalene figures.

Great Augustus, pattern of mild clemency,

victor of the Ausonian brave, most mighty:

from Castalia's spring they sing your highest gifts.

Phoebus, grant me now full favor for my vows;

grant a serene mind and pious senses.

Powerful in empire and in your sons, happy for Mars,

I pray that you yourself forever through the ages

aid me, daring to speak beneath a painted song,

to tell the glory of the poets, although now

the Muses' store cannot otherwise be aided under such a law.

On the reverse one thing, on the border another, whereby the page is marked into all its measures, that it may distinguish the seeds of speech. To will is pleasing; the divine power, nourishing, and the joys of the world establish this; care follows upon the vow made in music; it longs to display your virtues and your character. Holy one, the confidence of our mind has grown toward you, leading, rejoicing under the known and pious burden, it hastens into the yokes where the Muses dwell, where the leafy roof ever sings the arts, and the waves known to poets—of kings unconquered, or, victor, of slippery peace,

either laying them low in war, or by a gentle nod binding treaties—you make the fields your own, and grant your own men the exercise of dominion. Author of nourishing things, through you the world has felt the present regard, soon restoring golden ages to human affairs, and God has shown forth the times of a just ruler; by heavenly nod, clemency toward the peaceful and the just; through you and through your deeds all things, O victor, are made mild; the sons, the commonwealth, flourish to the joys of the mind; and for your Caesars, throughout the whole world, Victory, ever a companion by right, prospers happily into the ages.

For merits so great you shall raise up trophies. Victor over Sarmatia, so often—lo, receive them, glorious leader; everywhere your vows are rendered back to you, happy; now possessed of its due, your Romulean people rejoices; the ruler, duly established, flourishes for us through the ages.

After the labors of mars

And the perennial

Virtues of the caesars

Throughout the world, So many

Laurels flourishing green,

And the trophies of the prince

In happy triumphs

Let august ages smile,

Every age exults,

And the cities with pleasing blossom

And with comely foliage

Flourish green in all their streets.

Hence the order, Resplendent in its robe,

With purple honors,

With joyful voice they pray

And bring gifts rejoicing,

Now the kindly summit of the world

Bears offerings and crowns,

Bringing gleaming things of gold,

Victories in triumphs,

And now vows to the theatres

Are rendered, And to the choruses.

But my lot, REMOVED

From such solemn rites,

Has scarcely allowed these things to sound,

So many vows from the fountain of phoebus

Adorned also with verse upon the ground.

O if Clio, with the boundary divided,

would grant to the daring poet the happiness of meter:

verses flowing from one Aonian fountain under one law,

while the heroic right remains. Let the beginning

grow through a long patience toward its end,

with a small course and a slight movement increasing,

until, last of all, the whole height closes

its ascent with a joined and broad boundary,

numbering the elements in one space of verse,

and compelling the held law to be made equal.

Too small for long things, and much at variance in appearance,

yet under equal time and the same ratios of meter,

it prepares a half number for the Muses.

This will be a song most apt for varied forms,

through which fertile music rises by measured steps,

increasing with hollow bronze and reed pipes,

as when the artisan's hand, with square plectra well set beneath,

closes and opens countless breathing-places,

testing whether they sound well with gentle rhythms,

while a hidden wave hurries beneath with driving winds.

These frequent changes the labor of youth, not discordant with itself,

animates from this side and that, and by stirring increases them,

and, resisting, makes what is composed suitable to numbers

and proper for songs. Whatever can tremble at the least motion,

with frequent plectra opened, or can close the calm song well,

it now begins to bind with meter and rhythms, whatever is anywhere.

Lofty compose happy songs muses,

Discordant join diverse bonds meters,

Rugged composing twisting hearts poets,

Everywhere confused stand firm single words.

Discordant join diverse bonds meters,

Rugged composing twisting hearts poets,

Everywhere confused stand firm single words.

Songs happy compose lofty Muses,

Bonds diverse join discordant meters,

Hearts twisting composing rugged poets,

Single stand firm confused everywhere words.

Lofty stand firm twisting songs Muses,

Discordant compose join bonds meters,

Rugged confused diverse hearts poets,

Everywhere happy composing single words.

Songs twisting stand firm lofty Muses,

Bonds join compose discordant meters,

Hearts diverse confused rugged poets,

Single composing happy everywhere words.

Everywhere join stand firm single Muses,

Rugged twisting compose hearts meters,

Discordant confused happy bonds poets,

Lofty composing diverse songs words.

Single stand firm join everywhere Muses,

They compose their hearts, twisting rugged things with metres,

The happy bards compose rugged bonds,

Fashioning lofty songs with varied words.

Lofty songs, happy Muses, with varied things,

Fashioning bonds, they join discordant things with metres,

Twisting hearts, the bards compose rugged things,

Single things will stand firm everywhere with confused words.

Lofty, happy, with varied songs, Muses,

Discordant, they join, fashioning bonds with metres,

Rugged things, twisting, the bards compose hearts,

Everywhere single things will stand firm with confused words.

Single things, fashioning, everywhere, confused, Muses,

Hearts, with varied, happy, lofty things, with metres,

Bonds they join, will stand firm, rugged, bards,

Songs they compose, twisting, discordant, with words.

Everywhere fashioning, confused, single things, with Muses,

Lofty, happy, with varied hearts, with metres,

Rugged things will stand firm, they join bonds, bards,

Discordant, twisting, they compose songs, with words.

Discordant, twisting, will stand firm, bonds, Muses,

Everywhere they join, they compose single things, with metres,

Lofty, with varied, confused songs, bards,

Rugged, fashioning, happy hearts, with words.

Hearts they join, fashioning rugged things, Muses,

Songs, confused, with varied, lofty things, with metres,

Happy bards compose single things from every side,

Twisting lofty things with words, bonds will stand firm.

Happy Muses, rugged hearts with diverse things,

They join lofty things, fashioning songs with meters,

From every side bards compose single things, twisting,

Discordant bonds will stand firm with confused words.

Muses, discordant bonds will stand firm with confused things,

Twisting single things, they compose from every side with meters,

Bards fashioning songs join lofty things,

Happy rugged hearts with diverse words.

Muses compose and join discordant bonds,

Single things will stand firm, twisting, from every side with meters,

Happy bards, lofty songs with confused things,

Fashioning rugged hearts with diverse words.

Rugged Muses, fashioning hearts with diverse things,

Happy lofty songs with confused meters,

From every side, twisting, single bards will stand firm,

They join and compose discordant bonds with words.

Muses fashioning rugged hearts with confused things,

Happy lofty songs with diverse meters,

Single bards will stand firm, joining from every side,

Twisting bonds, they compose discordant things with words.

Muses compose discordant bonds, twisting,

From every side they join, single things will stand firm with meters,

Happy bards, lofty songs with diverse things,

Fashioning rugged hearts with confused words.