Prophecy (Vaticinium)

And they bared their limbs with the shining garment of the peacock,
The birds of Phoebus laughed; he flees and hides,
Until he might come forth into the light with feathers grown anew.
The tribe of pettifoggers, and physicians, and reckless advocates
Flaunts its wealth, but their purses confess the truth,
As do their narrow hearths and the sum of their meager census;
And you see those who gain, and those who, with favoring
Fortune, have accomplished something renowned by merit.
The bards gain leisure to breathe by singing,
Accustomed to higher things, and to compose song that will live.
That you exclaim against the present iron ages, and the sluggish
Leisure of kings, that every kind of crime flourishes throughout the world,
And that the stratagems and luxury of leaders vex their hearts,
And that an insatiable thirst for gold reigns on earth,
And that painted Voluptas rules over subjugated nations—
I yield, indeed, for you sing the truth, yet it is worthy of an avenger.
Therefore, turn your mind hither, and listen with your ears.
When the order of Nature, having reached the highest summits
Of things, orders them soon to yield and turn back,
This, the wheel of fortune teaches; this, the golden sun,
While it seeks the lowest Antipodes, about to return to the rosy east.
Hence God, looking upon the world nodding with errors,
Inflamed the minds of heroes, and impelled them, moreover,
That they might all surrender the Gallic kingdoms to Louis.
But wisdom, sitting in the center of his heart, teaching him first
To conquer himself, so that he might better conquer all other things,
Caused him to master all the measures of warfare,
And to learn from boyhood what Chiron ordered Achilles: