Roman Elegies VII

Oh, how happy I am in Rome, remembering the times When grey days clung to me, back there in the North, The sky was dark and weighed heavily on my head, The world around me colourless, formless, dull, And I’d sink to brooding over myself, trying to see Down the gloomy paths of my discontented spirit. Now the glow of brighter air shines round my brow: Phoebus, the god, calls up colour and form. The night shines bright with stars, echoes with gentle song, And the Moon shines clearer to me than Northern day. What happiness for a mortal! Do I dream? Does your Ambrosial palace, Father Jupiter, receive its guest? Ah, here I lie, to your knees extending imploring Hands. Oh hear me, Jupiter, the Lord of Guests! How I reached here, I don’t know: Hebe claimed The wanderer, and has drawn me to these halls. Did you command her to go and fetch a hero? Did Beauty err? Pardon her! Let error help me! Your daughter Fortune, too! She hands out noblest Gifts, like the girl she is, as the mood might take her. Aren’t you the God of hosts? Oh then don’t hurl Your guest downwards to Earth from Olympus again! ‘Poet, where are you climbing to?’ – Forgive me: The high Capitoline Hill’s your second Olympus. Accept me here, Jupiter, later let Hermes lead me, Quietly, by Cestius’ Pyramid, down to Orcus.