It is as if the old waters, which, transformed into
   Another rage, a more awful one, returned
      Again [to purify, since it was necessary,]1
 
Thus it seethed and grew and surged from year to year
   [Restlessly, and flooded the frightened land --]1
      The tremendous battle, such that widely veiled with
         Darkness and paleness was the head of mankind.
 
[The heroic powers welled up like waves
   And vanished away; you often shortened, oh avenging goddess!
      The work of the servants quickly
         And brought them home in rest, the warriors.
 
Oh you, who mercilessly and unconquered
   Strike the more cowardly and the over-powerful
      So that from the blow his poor clan trembles,
         Down to its last member,
 
You who secretly holds the spike and the reins,
   To hinder and to foster, oh Nemesis,
      You still punish the dead, otherwise there would sleep
         Under Italy's laurel gardens
 
Undisturbed the old conquerors.
   And do you not spare even the idle shepherd,
      And have not the nations finally atoned
         Sufficiently for their abundant slumbers?
 
Who began it?]1 who brought the curse? it is not
   Of today and not of yesterday, and those who first
      Lost their moderation, our fathers,
         Did not know it, [and their spirits drove them.]1
 
Too long, too long already mortals tread
   Gladly upon each other’s heads, [and quarrel about sovereignty,]1
      Fearing their neighbour, [and upon
         His own turf, a man finds no blessing.]1
 
And still erratically desires blow and stray, like Chaos,
   About the seething race of people
      And wild and discouraged and chilled by
         Anxieties is life [for the poor always.
 
But you wander peacefully your certain pathway,
   Oh Mother Earth, in light.  Your spring blooms,
      Alternating melodiously the emergent times
         Pass for you, you who are rich in life!
 
Come now, you the holiest of all the muses,
   And the favourite of the stars, rejuvenating
      Yearned-for peace, come and give us
         Again a stability in life, a heart.
 
Innocent one! children are after all almost
   More clever than we old ones; strife does not
      Cause the mind of the good to err, and clear and
         Joyful their eye has remained.
 
And just as with other spectators, the judge,
   Smiling solemnly, gazes upon the race-course of the youths,
      Where the competitors more ardently
         Drive the wagons into dusty clouds,
 
Thus over us stands and smiles Helios
   And the godly, joyful one is never lonely,
      For eternally do they dwell, the blooming stars
         Of the aether, the holy, free ones.]1