Augustus returns

Divis orte bonis, optume Romulae
custos gentis, abes iam nimium diu;
maturum reditum pollicitus patrum
sancto concilio redi.

lucem redde tuae, dux bone, patriae:
instar veris enim voltus ubi tuus
adfulsit populo, gratior it dies
et soles melius nitent.

ut mater iuvenem, quem Notus invido
flatu Carpathii trans maris aequora
cunctantem spatio longius annuo
dulci distinet a domo,

votis ominibusque et precibus vocat
curvo nec faciem litore dimovet:
sic desideriis icta fidelibus
quaerit patria Caesarem.

tutus bos etenim rura perambulat,
nutrit rura Ceres almaque Faustitas,
pacatum volitant per mare navitae;
culpari metuit fides,

nullis polluitur casta domus stupris,
mos et lex maculosum edomuit nefas,
laudantur simili prole puerperae,
culpam poena premit comes.

quis Parthum paveat, quis gelidum Scythen,
quis Germania quos horrida parturit
fetus incolumi Caesare? quis ferae
bellum curet Hiberiae?

condit quisque diem collibus in suis
et vitem viduas ducit ad arbores;
hinc ad vina redit laetus et alteris
te mensis adhibet deum;

te multa prece, te prosequitur mero
defuso pateris et Laribus tuum
miscet numen, uti Graecia Castoris
et magni memor Herculis.

“longas o utinam, dux bone, ferias
praestes Hesperiae!” dicimus integro
sicci mane die, dicimus uvidi,
cum sol Oceano subest.

Sprung from the good Gods, finest guardian of the race of Romulus, now you have been away from us too long and promised a timely return: come back to the sacred council of the Senate fathers. Good leader, give your homeland back its light, for when your countenance, the image of the spring, has shone upon the people the day passes more sweetly and suns shine the better. Like a mother with a son whom the south wind with its spiteful breath keeps delayed far from his sweet home over the waters of the Carpathian sea for longer than a year, who calls for him with vows, auguries and prayers and does not turn her face away from the curve of the shore, just so, smitten with loyal longings, does your homeland look for her Caesar. For the ox wanders in safety over the fields, Ceres, Queen of the corn, and kindly Auspicious powers nourish them, mariners skim over the pacified seas, loyalty recoils from incurring blame, the chastity of the home is unsullied by any deeds of shame, principle and law have overcome polluting wickedness, the likeness of newborns to their begetters is cause for celebration, guilt is repressed by its companion, retribution. Who could fear the Parthian, who the frosty Scythian, who the spawn to which shaggy Germany gives birth, if Caesar is safe? Who could worry about war with savage Spain? Each man invests his day in his own slopes and trains his vines upon the unwed trees, from there he returns, happy, to drink his wine, and calls on your presence as a god when his meal reaches its second course; he turns to you with much prayer and wine poured from libation cups, and invokes your power along with his household Gods, as Greece does when it remembers Castor and Hercules. O long, good leader, may the celebrations be that you bring to Italy, so say we when sober and the whole day lies before us, so we say when at our wine while the sun lies under the Ocean.