The Last Ode

(Nov. 27, B.C. 8.)

Horace, Ode 31, Bk. V.

As watchers couched beneath a Bantine oak, Hearing the dawn-wind stir, Know that the present strength of night is broke Though no dawn threaten her Till dawn’s appointed hour--so Virgil died, Aware of change at hand, and prophesied

Change upon all the Eternal Gods had made And on the Gods alike-- Fated as dawn but, as the dawn, delayed Till the just hour should strike--

A Star new-risen above the living and dead; And the lost shades that were our loves restored As lovers, and for ever. So he said; Having received the word....

Maecenas waits me on the Esquiline: Thither to-night go I.... And shall this dawn restore us, Virgil mine, To dawn? Beneath what sky?