Late be thy journey home, and longThy sojourn with Rome's family;Nor let thy wrath at our great wrongLend wings to fly.Here take our homage, Chief and Sire;Here wreathe with bay thy conquering brow,And bid the prancing Mede retire,Our Caesar thou!Thus may Cyprus' heavenly queen,Thus Helen's brethren, stars of brightest sheen,Guide thee! May the sire of windEach truant gale, save only Zephyr, bind!So do thou, fair ship, that ow'stVirgil, thy precious freight, to Attic coast,Safe restore thy loan and whole,And save from death the partner of my soul!Oak and brass of triple foldEncompass'd sure that heart, which first made boldTo the raging sea to trustA fragile bark, nor fear'd the Afric gustWith its Northern mates at strife,Nor Hyads' frown, nor South-wind fury-rife,Mightiest power that Hadria knows,Wills he the waves to madden or compose.What had Death in store to aweThose eyes, that huge sea-beasts unmelting saw,Saw the swelling of the surge,And high Ceraunian cliffs, the seaman's scourge?Heaven's high providence in vainHas sever'd countries with the estranging main,If our vessels ne'erthelessWith reckless plunge that sacred bar transgress.Daring all, their goal to win,Men tread forbidden ground, and rush on sin:Daring all, Prometheus play'dHis wily game, and fire to man convey'd;Soon as fire was stolen away,Pale Fever's stranger host and wan DecaySwept o'er earth's polluted face,And slow Fate quicken'd Death's once halting pace.Daedalus the void air triedOn wings, to humankind by Heaven denied;Acheron's bar gave way with easeBefore the arm of labouring Hercules.Nought is there for man too high;Our impious folly e'en would climb the sky,Braves the dweller on the steep,Nor lets the bolts of heavenly vengeance sleep.The touch of Zephyr and of Spring has loosen'd Winter's thrall;The well-dried keels are wheel'd again to sea:The ploughman cares not for his fire, nor cattle for their stall,And frost no more is whitening all the lea.Now Cytherea leads the dance, the bright moon overhead;The Graces and the Nymphs, together knit,With rhythmic feet the meadow beat, while Vulcan, fiery red,Heats the Cyclopian forge in Aetna's pit.'Tis now the time to wreathe the brow with branch of myrtle green,Or flowers, just opening to the vernal breeze;Now Faunus claims his sacrifice among the shady treen,Lambkin or kidling, which soe'er he please.Pale Death, impartial, walks his round: he knocks at cottage-gateAnd palace-portal. Sestius, child of bliss!How should a mortal's hopes be long, when short his being's date?Lo here! the fabulous ghosts, the dark abyss,The void of the Plutonian hall, where soon as e'er you go,No more for you shall leap the auspicious dieTo seat you on the throne of wine; no more your breast shall glowFor Lycidas, the star of every eye.What slender youth, besprinkled with perfume,Courts you on roses in some grotto's shade?Fair Pyrrha, say, for whomYour yellow hair you braid,So trim, so simple! Ah! how oft shall heLament that faith can fail, that gods can change,Viewing the rough black seaWith eyes to tempests strange,Who now is basking in your golden smile,And dreams of you still fancy-free, still kind,Poor fool, nor knows the guileOf the deceitful wind!Woe to the eyes you dazzle without cloudUntried! For me, they show in yonder faneMy dripping garments, vow'dTo Him who curbs the main.Not I, but Varius:—he, of Homer's broodA tuneful swan, shall bear you on his wing,Your tale of trophies, won by field or flood,Mighty alike to sing.Not mine such themes, Agrippa; no, nor mineTo chant the Wrath that fill'd Pelides' breast,Nor dark Ulysses' wanderings o'er the brine,Nor Pelops' house unblest.Vast were the task, I feeble; inborn shame,And she, who makes the peaceful lyre submit,Forbid me to impair great Caesar's fameAnd yours by my weak wit.But who may fitly sing of Mars array'dIn adamant mail, or Merion, black with dustOf Troy, or Tydeus' son by Pallas' aidStrong against gods to thrust?Feasts are my theme, my warriors maidens fair,Who with pared nails encounter youths in fight;Be Fancy free or caught in Cupid's snare,Her temper still is light.Let others Rhodes or Mytilene sing,Or Ephesus, or Corinth, set betweenTwo seas, or Thebes, or Delphi, for its kingEach famous, or Thessalian Tempe green;There are who make chaste Pallas' virgin towerThe daily burden of unending song,And search for wreaths the olive's rifled bower:The praise of Juno sounds from many a tongue,Telling of Argos' steeds, Mycenae's gold.For me stern Sparta forges no such spell,No, nor Larissa's plain of richest mould,As bright Albunea echoing from her cell.O headlong Anio! O Tiburnian groves,And orchards saturate with shifting streams!Look how the clear fresh south from heaven removesThe tempest, nor with rain perpetual teems!You too be wise, my Plancus: life's worst cloudWill melt in air, by mellow wine allay'd,Dwell you in camps, with glittering banners proud,Or 'neath your Tibur's canopy of shade.When Teucer fled before his father's frownFrom Salamis, they say his temples deepHe dipp'd in wine, then wreath'd with poplar crown,And bade his comrades lay their grief to sleep:“Where Fortune bears us, than my sire more kind,There let us go, my own, my gallant crew.'Tis Teucer leads, 'tis Teucer breathes the wind;No more despair; Apollo's word is true.Another Salamis in kindlier airShall yet arise. Hearts, that have borne with meWorse buffets! drown today in wine your care;To-morrow we recross the wide, wide sea!”Lydia, by all above,Why bear so hard on Sybaris, to ruin him with love?What change has made him shunThe playing-ground, who once so well could bear the dust and sun?Why does he never sitOn horseback in his company, nor with uneven bitHis Gallic courser tame?Why dreads he yellow Tiber, as 'twould sully that fair frame?Like poison loathes the oil,His arms no longer black and blue with honourable toil,He who erewhile was knownFor quoit or javelin oft and oft beyond the limit thrown?Why skulks he, as they sayDid Thetis' son before the dawn of Ilion's fatal day,For fear the manly dressShould fling him into danger's arms, amid theLycian press?See, how it stands, one pile of snow,Soracte! 'neath the pressure yieldIts groaning woods; the torrents' flowWith clear sharp ice is all congeal'd.Heap high the logs, and melt the cold,Good Thaliarch; draw the wine we ask,That mellower vintage, four-year-old,From out the cellar'd Sabine cask.The future trust with Jove; when heHas still'd the warring tempests' roarOn the vex'd deep, the cypress-treeAnd aged ash are rock'd no more.O, ask not what the morn will bring,But count as gain each day that chanceMay give you; sport in life's young spring,Nor scorn sweet love, nor merry dance,While years are green, while sullen eldIs distant. Now the walk, the game,The whisper'd talk at sunset held,Each in its hour, prefer their claim.Sweet too the laugh, whose feign'd alarmThe hiding-place of beauty tells,The token, ravish'd from the armOr finger, that but ill rebels.Grandson of Atlas, wise of tongue,O Mercury, whose wit could tameMan's savage youth by power of songAnd plastic game!Thee sing I, herald of the sky,Who gav'st the lyre its music sweet,Hiding whate'er might please thine eyeIn frolic cheat.See, threatening thee, poor guileless child,Apollo claims, in angry tone,His cattle;—all at once he smiled,His quiver gone.Strong in thy guidance, Hector's sireEscaped the Atridae, pass'd betweenThessalian tents and warders' fire,Of all unseen,Thou lay'st unspotted souls to rest;Thy golden rod pale spectres know;Blest power! by all thy brethren blest,Above, below!Ask not ('tis forbidden knowledge), what our destined term of years,Mine and yours; nor scan the tables of your Babylonish seers.Better far to bear the future, my Leuconoe, like the past,Whether Jove has many winters yet to give, or this our last;This, that makes the Tyrrhene billows spend their strength against the shore.Strain your wine and prove your wisdom; life is short; should hope be more?In the moment of our talking, envious time has ebb'd away.Seize the present; trust tomorrow e'en as little as you may.What man, what hero, Clio sweet,On harp or flute wilt thou proclaim?What god shall echo's voice repeatIn mocking gameTo Helicon's sequester'd shade,Or Pindus, or on Haemus chill,Where once the hurrying woods obey'dThe minstrel's will,Who, by his mother's gift of song,Held the fleet stream, the rapid breeze,And led with blandishment alongThe listening trees?Whom praise we first? the sire on high,Who gods and men unerring guides,Who rules the sea, the earth, the sky,Their times and tides.No mightier birth may he beget;No like, no second has he known;Yet nearest to her sire's is setMinerva's throne.Nor yet shall Bacchus pass unsaid,Bold warrior, nor the virgin foeOf savage beasts, nor Phoebus, dreadWith deadly bow.Alcides too shall be my theme,And Leda's twins, for horses he,He famed for boxing; soon as gleamTheir stars at sea,The lash'd spray trickles from the steep,The wind sinks down, the storm-cloud flies,The threatening billow on the deepObedient lies.Shall now Quirinus take his turn,Or quiet Numa, or the stateProud Tarquin held, or Cato stern,By death made great?Ay, Regulus and the Scaurian name,And Paullus, who at Cannae gaveHis glorious soul, fair record claim,For all were brave.Thee, Furius, and Fabricius, thee,Rough Curius too, with untrimm'd beard,Your sires' transmitted povertyTo conquest rear'd.Marcellus' fame, its up-growth hid,Springs like a tree; great Julius' lightShines, like the radiant moon amidThe lamps of night.Dread Sire and Guardian of man's race,To thee, O Jove, the Fates assignOur Caesar's charge; his power and placeBe next to thine.
serus in caelum redeas diuquelaetus intersis populo Quirinineve te nostris vitiis iniquumocior auratollat; hic magnos potius triumphos,hic ames dici pater atque princepsneu sinas Medos equitare inultoste duce, Caesar.Sic te diva potens Cypri,sic fratres Helenae, lucida sidera,ventorumque regat paterobstrictis aliis praeter Iapyga,navis, quae tibi creditumdebes Vergilium; finibus Atticisreddas incolumem precoret serves animae dimidium meae.illi robur et aes triplexcirca pectus erat, qui fragilem truciconmisit pelago ratemprimus: nec timuit praecipitem Africumdecertantem Aquilonibusnec tristis Hyadas nec rabiem Noti,quo non arbiter Hadriaemaior, tollere seu ponere volt freta;quem mortis timuit gradumqui siccis oculis monstra natantia,qui vidit mare turbidum etinfamis scopulos Acroceraunia?nequiquam deus absciditprudens oceano dissociabiliterras, si tamen inpiaenon tangenda rates transiliunt vada.audax omnia perpetigens humana ruit per vetitum nefas:audax Iapeti genusignem fraude mala gentibus intulit;post ignem aetheria domosubductum macies et nova febriumterris incubuit cohorssemotique prius tarda necessitasLeti corripuit gradum;expertus vacuum Daedalus aerapennis non homini datis;perrupit Acheronta Herculeus labor.nil mortalibus ardui est:caelum ipsum petimus stultitia nequeper nostrum patimur scelusiracunda Iovem ponere fulmina.Solvitur acris hiems grata vice veris et Favonitrahuntque siccas machinae carinasac neque iam stabulis gaudet pecus aut arator igninec prata canis albicant pruinis.iam Cytherea choros ducit Venus imminente lunaiunctaeque Nymphis Gratiae decentesalterno terram quatiunt pede, dum gravis CyclopumVolcanus ardens visit officinas.nunc decet aut viridi nitidum caput impedire myrtoaut flore, terrae quem ferunt solutae,nunc et in umbrosis Fauno decet immolare lucis,seu poscat agna sive malit haedo.pallida Mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernasregumque turris. o beate Sesti,vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoare longam;iam te premet nox fabulaeque Maneset domus exilis Plutonia; quo simul mearis,nec regna vini sortiere talisnec tenerum Lycidan mirabere, quo calet iuventusnunc omnis et mox virgines tepebunt.Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosaperfusus liquidis urget odoribusgrato, Pyrrha, sub antro?cui flavam religas comamsimplex munditiis? heu quotiens fidemmutatosque deos flebit et asperanigris aequora ventisemirabitur insolensqui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea,qui semper vacuam, semper amabilemsperat, nescius auraefallacis. miseri, quibusintemptata nites. me tabula sacervotiva paries indicat uvidasuspendisse potentivestimenta maris deo.Scriberis Vario fortis et hostiumvictor Maeonii carminis alite,quam rem cumque ferox navibus aut equismiles te duce gesserit.nos, Agrippa, neque haec dicere nec gravemPelidae stomachum cedere nesciinec cursus duplicis per mare Ulixeinec saevam Pelopis domumconamur, tenues grandia, dum pudorinbellisque lyrae Musa potens vetatlaudes egregii Caesaris et tuasculpa deterere ingeni.quis Martem tunica tectum adamantinadigne scripserit aut pulvere Troiconigrum Merionen aut ope PalladisTydiden superis parem?nos convivia, nos proelia virginumsectis in iuvenes unguibus acriumcantamus, vacui sive quid urimur,non praeter solitum leves.Laudabunt alii claram Rhodon aut Mytilenenaut Epheson bimarisve Corinthimoenia vel Baccho Thebas vel Apolline Delphosinsignis aut Thessala Tempe;sunt quibus unum opus est intactae Palladis urbemcarmine perpetuo celebrare etundique decerptam fronti praeponere olivam;plurimus in Iunonis honoremaptum dicet equis Argos ditisque Mycenas:me nec tam patiens Lacedaemonnec tam Larisae percussit campus opimaequam domus Albuneae resonantiset praeceps Anio ac Tiburni lucus et udamobilibus pomaria rivis.albus ut obscuro deterget nubila caelosaepe Notus neque parturit imbrisperpetuos, sic tu sapiens finire mementotristitiam vitaeque laboresmolli, Plance, mero, seu te fulgentia signiscastra tenent seu densa tenebitTiburis umbra tui. Teucer Salamina patremquecum fugeret, tamen uda Lyaeotempora populea fertur vinxisse coronasic tristis adfatus amicos:“quo nos cumque feret melior fortuna parente,ibimus—o socii comitesque,nil desperandum Teucro duce et auspice Teucro:certus enim promisit Apolloambiguam tellure nova Salamina futuram.o fortes peioraque passimecum saepe viri, nunc vino pellite curas;cras ingens iterabimus aequor.”Lydia, dic per omniste deos oro, Sybarin cur properes amandoperdere, cur apricumoderit campum patiens pulveris atque solis,cur neque militarisinter aequalis equitet, Gallica nec lupatistemperet ora frenis?cur timet flavum Tiberim tangere? cur olivumsanguine viperinocautius vitat neque iam livida gestat armisbracchia saepe disco,saepe trans finem iaculo nobilis expedito?quid latet, ut marinaefilium dicunt Thetidis sub lacrimosa Troiaefunera, ne viriliscultus in caedem et Lycias proriperet catervas?Vides ut alta stet nive candidumSoracte nec iam sustineant onussilvae laborantes geluqueflumina constiterint acuto?dissolve frigus ligna super focolarge reponens atque benigniusdeprome quadrimum Sabina,o Thaliarche, merum diota.permitte divis cetera, qui simulstravere ventos aequore fervidodeproeliantis, nec cupressinec veteres agitantur orni.quid sit futurum cras, fuge quaerere etquem Fors dierum cumque dabit, lucroadpone nec dulcis amoressperne puer neque tu choreas,donec virenti canities abestmorosa. nunc et campus et areaelenesque sub noctem susurriconposita repetantur hora,nunc et latentis proditor intumogratus puellae risus ab angulopignusque dereptum lacertisaut digito male pertinaci.Mercuri facunde nepos Atlantis,qui feros cultus hominum recentumvoce formasti catus et decoraemore palaestrae,te canam, magni Iovis et deorumnuntium curvaeque lyrae parentem,callidum, quidquid placuit, iocosocondere furto.te, boves olim nisi reddidissesper dolum amotas, puerum minacivoce dum terret, viduus pharetrarisit Apollo.quin et Atridas duce te superbosIlio dives Priamus relictoThessalosque ignis et iniqua Troiaecastra fefellit.tu pias laetis animas reponissedibus virgaque levem coercesaurea turbam, superis deorumgratus et imis.Tu ne quaesieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibifinem di dederint, Leuconoe, nec Babyloniostemptaris numeros. ut melius, quidquid erit, pati.seu pluris hiemes seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mareTyrrhenum: sapias, vina liques et spatio brevispem longam reseces. dum loquimur, fugerit invidaaetas: carpe diem quam minimum credula postero.Quem virum aut heroa lyra vel acritibia sumis celebrare, Clio?quem deum? cuius recinet iocosanomen imagoaut in umbrosis Heliconis orisaut super Pindo gelidove in Haemo?unde vocalem temere insecutaeOrphea silvae,arte materna rapidos morantemfluminum lapsus celeresque ventos,blandum et auritas fidibus canorisducere quercus.quid prius dicam solitis parentislaudibus, qui res hominum ac deorum,qui mare ac terras variisque mundumtemperat horis?unde nil maius generatur ipsonec viget quidquam simile aut secundum.proximos illi tamen occupavitPallas honoresproeliis audax. neque te silebo,Liber et saevis inimica virgobeluis, nec te, metuende certaPhoebe sagitta.dicam et Alciden puerosque Ledae,hunc equis, illum superare pugnisnobilem; quorum simul alba nautisstella refulsit,defluit saxis agitatus umor,concidunt venti fugiuntque nubeset minax, quia sic voluere, pontounda recumbit.Romulum post hos prius an quietumPompili regnum memorem, an superbosTarquini fascis, dubito, an Catonisnobile letum:Regulum et Scauros animaeque magnaeprodigum Paulum superante Poenogratus insigni referam camenaFabriciumque.hunc et incomptis Curium capillisutilem bello tulit et Camillumsaeva paupertas et avitus aptocum lare fundus.crescit occulto velut arbor aevofama Marcelli; micat inter omnisIulium sidus velut inter ignisluna minores.gentis humanae pater atque custos,orte Saturno, tibi cura magniCaesaris fatis data: tu secundoCaesare regnes.
Whether the Parthian, threatening Rome,His eagles scatter to the wind.Or follow to their eastern homeCathay and Ind,Thy second let him rule belowThy car shall shake the realms above;Thy vengeful bolts shall overthrowEach guilty grove.Telephus—you praise him still,His waxen arms, his rosy-tinted neck;Ah! and all the while I thrillWith jealous pangs I cannot, cannot checkSee, my colour comes and goes,My poor heart flutters, Lydia, and the dew,Down my cheek soft stealing, showsWhat lingering torments rack me through and through.Oh, 'tis agony te seeThose snowwhite shoulders scarr'd in drunken fray,Or those ruby lips, where heHas left strange marks, that show how rough his play!Never, never look to findA faithful heart in him whose rage can harmSweetest lips, which Venus kindHas tinctured with her quintessential charm.Happy, happy; happy theyWhose living love, untroubled by all strife,Binds them till the last sad day,Nor parts asunder but with parting life!O luckless bark! new waves will force you backTo sea. O, haste to make the haven yours!E'en now, a helpless wrack,You drift, despoil'd of oars;The Afric gale has dealt your mast a wound;Your sailyards groan, nor can your keel sustain,Till lash'd with cables round,A more imperious main.Your canvass hangs in ribbons, rent and torn;No gods are left to pray to in fresh need.A pine of Pontus bornOf noble forest breed,You boast your name and lineage—madly blindCan painted timbers quell a seaman's fear?Beware! or else the windMakes you its mock and jeer.Your trouble late made sick this heart of mine,And still I love you, still am ill at ease.O, shun the sea, where shineThe thick-sown Cyclades!When the false swain was hurrying o'er the deepHis Spartan hostess in the Idaean bark,Old Nereus laid the unwilling winds asleep,That all to Fate might hark,Speaking through him:—“Home in ill hour you takeA prize whom Greece shall claim with troops untold,Leagued by an oath your marriage tie to breakAnd Priam's kingdom old.Alas! what deaths you launch on Dardan realm!What tolls are waiting, man and horse to tire!See! Pallas trims her aegis and her helm,Her chariot and her ire.Vainly shall you; in Venus' favour strong,Your tresses comb, and for your dames divideOn peaceful lyre the several parts of song;Vainly in chamber hideFrom spears and Gnossian arrows, barb'd with fate,And battle's din, and Ajax in the chaseUnconquer'd; those adulterous locks, though late,Shall gory dust deface.Hark! 'tis the death-cry of your race! look back!Ulysses comes, and Pylian Nestor grey;See! Salaminian Teucer on your track,And Sthenelus, in the frayVersed, or with whip and rein, should need require,No laggard. Merion too your eyes shall knowFrom far. Tydides, fiercer than his sire,Pursues you, all aglow;Him, as the stag forgets to graze for fright,Seeing the wolf at distance in the glade,And flies, high panting, you shall fly, despiteBoasts to your leman made.What though Achilles' wrathful fleet postponeThe day of doom to Troy and Troy's proud dames,Her towers shall fall, the number'd winters flown,Wrapp'd in Achaenan flames.”O lovelier than the lovely dameThat bore you, sentence as you pleaseThose scurril verses, be it flameYour vengeance craves, or Hadrian seas.Not Cybele, nor he that hauntsRich Pytho, worse the brain confounds,Not Bacchus, nor the CorybantsClash their loud gongs with fiercer soundsThan savage wrath; nor sword nor spearAppals it, no, nor ocean's frown,Nor ravening fire, nor JupiterIn hideous ruin crashing down.Prometheus, forced, they say, to addTo his prime clay some favourite partFrom every kind, took lion mad,And lodged its gall in man's poor heart.'Twas wrath that laid Thyestes low;'Tis wrath that oft destruction callsOn cities, and invites the foeTo drive his plough o'er ruin'd walls.Then calm your spirit; I can tellHow once, when youth in all my veinsWas glowing, blind with rage, I fellOn friend and foe in ribald strains.Come, let me change my sour for sweet,And smile complacent as before:Hear me my palinode repeat,And give me back your heart once more.The pleasures of LucretilisTempt Faunus from his Grecian seat;He keeps my little goats in blissApart from wind, and rain, and heat.In safety rambling o'er the swardFor arbutes and for thyme they peer,The ladies of the unfragrant lord,Nor vipers, green with venom, fear,Nor savage wolves, of Mars' own breed,My Tyndaris, while Ustica's dellIs vocal with the silvan reed,And music thrills the limestone fell.Heaven is my guardian; heaven approvesA blameless life, by song made sweet;Come hither, and the fields and grovesTheir horn shall empty at your feet.Here, shelter'd by a friendiy tree,In Teian measures you shall singBright Circe and Penelope,Love-smitten both by one sharp sting.Here shall you quaff beneath the shadeSweet Lesbian draughts that injure none,Nor fear lest Mars the realm invadeOf Semele's Thyonian son,Lest Cyrus on a foe too weakLay the rude hand of wild excess,His passion on your chaplet wreak,Or spoil your undeserving dress.Varus, are your trees in planting? put in none before the vine,In the rich domain of Tibur, by the walls of Catilus;There's a power above that hampers all that sober brains design,And the troubles man is heir to thus are quell'd, and only thus.Who can talk of want or warfare when the wine is in his head,Not of thee, good father Bacchus, and of Venus fair and bright?But should any dream of licence, there's a lesson may be read,How 'twas wine that drove the Centaurs with the Lapithae to fight.And the Thracians too may warn us; truth and falsehood, good and ill,How they mix them, when the wine-god's hand is heavy on them laid!Never, never, gracious Bacchus, may I move thee 'gainst thy will,Or uncover what is hidden in the verdure of thy shade!Silence thou thy savage cymbals, and the Berecyntine horn;In their train Self-love still follows, dully, desperately blind,And Vain-glory, towering upwards in its emptyheaded scorn,And the Faith that keeps no secrets, with a window in its mind.Cupid's mother, cruel dame,And Semele's Theban boy, and Licence bold,Bid me kindle into flameThis heart, by waning passion now left cold.O, the charms of Glycera,That hue, more dazzling than the Parian stone!O, that sweet tormenting play,That too fair face, that blinds when look'd upon!Venus comes in all her might,Quits Cyprus for my heart, nor lets me tellOf the Parthian, bold in flight,Nor Scythian hordes, nor aught that breaks her spell.Heap the grassy altar up,Bring vervain, boys, and sacred frankincense;Fill the sacrificial cup;A victim's blood will soothe her vehemence.Not large my cups, nor rich my cheer,This Sabine wine, which erst I seal'd,That day the applauding theatreYour welcome peal'd,Dear knight Maecenas! as 'twere fainThat your paternal river's banks,And Vatican, in sportive strain,Should echo thanks.For you Calenian grapes are press'd,And Caecuban; these cups of mineFalernum's bounty ne'er has bless'd,Nor Formian vine.Of Dian's praises, tender maidens, tell;Of Cynthus' unshorn god, young striplings, sing;And bright Latona, wellBeloved of Heaven's high king.Sing her that streams and silvan foliage loves,Whate'er on Algidus' chill brow is seen,In Erymanthian grovesDark-leaved, or Cragus green.Sing Tempe too, glad youths, in strain as loud,And Phoebus' birthplace, and that shoulder fair,His golden quiver proudAnd brother's lyre to bear.His arm shall banish Hunger, Plague, and WarTo Persia and to Britain's coast, awayFrom Rome and Caesar far,If you have zeal to pray.No need of Moorish archer's craftTo guard the pure and stainless liver;He wants not, Fuscus, poison'd shaftTo store his quiver,Whether he traverse Libyan shoals,Or Caucasus, forlorn and horrent,Or lands where far Hydaspes rollsHis fabled torrent.A wolf, while roaming trouble-freeIn Sabine wood, as fancy led me,Unarm'd I sang my Lalage,Beheld, and fled me.Dire monster! in her broad oak woodsFierce Daunia fosters none such other,Nor Juba's land, of lion broodsThe thirsty mother.Place me where on the ice-bound plainNo tree is cheer'd by summer breezes,Where Jove descends in sleety rainOr sullen freezes;Place me where none can live for heat,'Neath Phoebus' very chariot plant me,That smile so sweet, that voice so sweet,Shall still enchant me.You fly me, Chloe, as o'er trackless hillsA young fawn runs her timorous dam to find,Whom empty terror thrillsOf woods and whispering wind.Whether 'tis Spring's first shiver, faintly heardThrough the light leaves, or lizards in the brakeThe rustling thorns have stirr'd,Her heart, her knees, they quake.Yet I, who chase you, no grim lion am,No tiger fell, to crush you in my gripe:Come, learn to leave your dam.For lover's kisses ripe.Why blush to let our tears unmeasured fallFor one so dear? Begin the mournful stave,Melpomene, to whom the sire of allSweet voice with music gave.And sleeps he then the heavy sleep of death,Quintilius? Piety, twin sister dearOf Justice! naked Truth! unsullied Faith!When will ye find his peer?By many a good man wept, Quintilius dies;By none than you, my Virgil, trulier wept:Devout in vain, you chide the faithless skies,Asking your loan ill-kept.No, though more suasive than the bard of ThraceYou swept the lyre that trees were fain to hear,Ne'er should the blood revisit his pale faceWhom once with wand severeMercury has folded with the sons of night,Untaught to prayer Fate's prison to unseal.Ah, heavy grief! but patience makes more lightWhat sorrow may not heal.The Muses love me: fear and grief,The winds may blow them to the sea;Who quail before the wintry chiefOf Scythia's realm, is nought to me.What cloud o'er Tiridates lowers,I care not, I. O, nymph divineOf virgin springs, with sunniest flowersA chaplet for my Lamia twine,Pimplea sweet! my praise were vainWithout thee. String this maiden lyre,Attune for him the Lesbian strain,O goddess, with thy sister quire!What, fight with cups that should give joy?'Tis barbarous; leave such savage waysTo Thracians. Bacchus, shamefaced boy,Is blushing at your bloody frays.The Median sabre! lights and wine!Was stranger contrast ever seen?Cease, cease this brawling, comrades mine,And still upon your elbows lean.Well, shall I take a toper's partOf fierce Falernian? let our guest,Megilla's brother, say what dartGave the death-wound that makes him blest.He hesitates? no other hireShall tempt my sober brains. Whate'erThe goddess tames you, no base fireShe kindles; 'tis some gentle fairAllures you still. Come, tell me truth,And trust my honour—That the name?That wild Charybdis yours? Poor youth!O, you deserved a better flame!What wizard, what Thessalian spell,What god can save you, hamper'd thus?To cope with this Chimaera fellWould task another Pegasus.The sea, the earth, the innumerable sand,Archytas, thou couldst measure; now, alas!A little dust on Matine shore has spann'dThat soaring spirit; vain it was to passThe gates of heaven, and send thy soul in questO'er air's wide realms; for thou hadst yet to die.Ay, dead is Pelops' father, heaven's own guest,And old Tithonus, rapt from earth to sky,And Minos, made the council-friend of Jove;And Panthus' son has yielded up his breathOnce more, though down he pluck'd the shield, to proveHis prowess under Troy, and bade grim deathO'er skin and nerves alone exert its power,Not he, you grant, in nature meanly read.Yes, all “await the inevitable hour;”The downward journey all one day must tread.Some bleed, to glut the war-god's savage eyes;Fate meets the sailor from the hungry brine;Youth jostles age in funeral obsequies;Each brow in turn is touch'd by Proserpine.Me, too, Orion's mate, the Southern blast,Whelm'd in deep death beneath the Illyrian wave.But grudge not, sailor, of driven sand to castA handful on my head, that owns no grave.So, though the eastern tempests loudly threatHesperia's main, may green Venusia's crownBe stripp'd, while you lie warm; may blessings yetStream from Tarentum's guard, great Neptune, down,And gracious Jove, into your open lap!What! shrink you not from crime whose punishmentFalls on your innocent children? it may hapImperious Fate will make yourself repent.My prayers shall reach the avengers of all wrong;No expiations shall the curse unbind.Great though your haste, I would not task you long;Thrice sprinkle dust, then scud before the wind.Your heart on Arab wealth is set,Good Iccius: you would try your steelOn Saba's kings, unconquerd yet,And make the Mede your fetters feel.Come, tell me what barbarian fairWill serve you now, her bridegroom slain?What page from court with essenced hairWill tender you the bowl you drain,Well skill'd to bend the Serian bowHis father carried? Who shall sayThat rivers may not uphill flow,And Tiber's self return one day,If you would change Panaetius' works,That costly purchase, and the clanOf Socrates, for shields and dirks,Whom once we thought a saner man?Come, Cnidian, Paphian Venus, come,Thy well-beloved Cyprus spurn,Haste, where for thee in Glycera's homeSweet odours burn.Bring too thy Cupid, glowing warm,Graces and Nymphs, unzoned and free,And Youth, that lacking thee lacks charm,And Mercury.What blessing shall the bard entreatThe god he hallows, as he poursThe winecup? Not the mounds of wheatThat load Sardinian threshing floors;Not Indian gold or ivory—no,Nor flocks that o'er Calabria stray,Nor fields that Liris, still and slow,Is eating, unperceived, away.Let those whose fate allows them trainCalenum's vine; let trader boldFrom golden cups rich liquor drainFor wares of Syria bought and sold,Heaven's favourite, sooth, for thrice a yearHe comes and goes across the brineUndamaged. I in plenty hereOn endives, mallows, succory dine.O grant me, Phoebus, calm content,Strength unimpaird, a mind entire,Old age without dishonour spent,Nor unbefriended by the lyre!They call;—if aught in shady dellWe twain have warbled, to remainLong months or years, now breathe, my shell,A Roman strain,Thou, strung by Lesbos' minstrel hand,The bard, who 'mid the clash of steel,Or haply mooring to the strandHis batter'd keel,Of Bacchus and the Muses sung,And Cupid, still at Venus' side,And Lycus, beautiful and young,Dark-hair'd, dark-eyed.O sweetest lyre, to Phoebus dear,Delight of Jove's high festival,Blest balm in trouble, hail and hearWhene'er I call!What, Albius! why this passionate despairFor cruel Glycera? why melt your voiceIn dolorous strains, because the perjured fairHas made a younger choice?See, narrow-brow'd Lycoris, how she glowsFor Cyrus! Cyrus turns away his headTo Pholoe's frown; but sooner gentle roesApulian wolves shall wed,Than Pholoe to so mean a conqueror strike:So Venus wills it; 'neath her brazen yokeShe loves to couple forms and minds unlike,All for a heartless joke.For me sweet Love had forged a milder spell;But Myrtale still kept me her fond slave,More stormy she than the tempestuous swellThat crests Calabria's wave.My prayers were scant, my offerings few,While witless wisdom fool'd my mind;But now I trim my sails anew,And trace the course I left behind.For lo! the sire of heaven on high,By whose fierce bolts the clouds are riven,Today through an unclouded skyHis thundering steeds and car has driven.E'en now dull earth and wandering floods,And Atlas' limitary range,And Styx, and Taenarus' dark abodesAre reeling. He can lowliest changeAnd loftiest; bring the mighty downAnd lift the weak; with whirring flightComes Fortune, plucks the monarch's crown,And decks therewith some meaner wight.Lady of Antium, grave and stern!O Goddess, who canst lift the lowTo high estate, and sudden turnA triumph to a funeral show!Thee the poor hind that tills the soilImplores; their queen they own in thee,Who in Bithynian vessel toilAmid the vex'd Carpathian sea.Thee Dacians fierce, and Scythian hordes,Peoples and towns, and Rome, their head,And mothers of barbarian lords,And tyrants in their purple dread,Lest, spurn'd by thee in scorn, should fallThe state's tall prop, lest crowds on fireTo arms, to arms! the loiterers call,And thrones be tumbled in the mire.Necessity precedes thee stillWith hard fierce eyes and heavy tramp:Her hand the nails and wedges fill,The molten lead and stubborn clamp.Hope, precious Truth in garb of white,Attend thee still, nor quit thy sideWhen with changed robes thou tak'st thy flightIn anger from the homes of pride.Then the false herd, the faithless fair,Start backward; when the wine runs dry.The jocund guests, too light to bearAn equal yoke, asunder fly.O shield our Caesar as he goesTo furthest Britain, and his band,Rome's harvest! Send on Eastern foesTheir fear, and on the Red Sea strand!O wounds that scarce have ceased to run!O brother's blood! O iron time!What horror have we left undone?Has conscience shrunk from aught of crime?What shrine has rapine held in awe?What altar spared? O haste and beatThe blunted steel we yet may drawOn Arab and on Massagete!Bid the lyre and cittern play;Enkindle incense, shed the victim's gore;Heaven has watch'd o'er Numida,And brings him safe from far Hispania's shore.Now, returning, he bestowsOn each dear comrade all the love he can;But to Lamia most he owes,By whose sweet side he grew from boy to man.Note we in our calendarThis festal day with whitest mark from Crete:Let it flow, the old wine-jar,And ply to Salian time your restless feet.Damalis tosses off her wine,But Bassus sure must prove her match tonight.Give us roses all to twine,And parsley green, and lilies deathly white.Every melting eye will restOn Damalis' lovely face; but none may partDamalis from our new-found guest;She clings, and clings, like ivy, round his heart.Now drink we deep, now featly treadA measure; now before each shrineWith Salian feasts the table spread;The time invites us, comrades mine.'Twas shame to broach, before today,The Caecuban, while Egypt's dameThreaten'd our power in dust to layAnd wrap the Capitol in flame,Girt with her foul emasculate throng,By Fortune's sweet new wine befool'd,In hope's ungovern'd weakness strongTo hope for all; but soon she cool'd,To see one ship from burning 'scape;Great Caesar taught her dizzy brain,Made mad by Mareotic grape,To feel the sobering truth of pain,And gave her chase from Italy,As after doves fierce falcons speed,As hunters 'neath Haemonia's skyChase the tired hare, so might he leadThe fiend enchain'd; she sought to dieMore nobly, nor with woman's dreadQuail'd at the steel, nor timorouslyIn her fleet ships to covert fled.Amid her ruin'd halls she stoodUnblench'd, and fearless to the endGrasp'd the fell snakes, that all her bloodMight with the cold black venom blend,Death's purpose flushing in her face;Nor to our ships the glory gave,That she, no vulgar dame, should graceA triumph, crownless, and a slave.No Persian cumber, boy, for me;I hate your garlands linden-plaited;Leave winter's rose where on the treeIt hangs belated.Wreath me plain myrtle; never thinkPlain myrtle either's wear unfitting,Yours as you wait, mine as I drinkIn vine-bower sitting.
ille seu Parthos Latio imminentisegerit iusto domitos triumphosive subiectos Orientis oraeSeras et Indos,te minor latum reget aequos orbem:tu gravi curru quaties Olympum,tu parum castis inimica mittesfulmina lucis.Cum tu, Lydia, Telephicervicem roseam, cerea Telephilaudas bracchia, vae, meumfervens difficili bile tumet iecur.tum nec mens mihi nec colorcerta sede manet, umor et in genasfurtim labitur arguens,quam lentis penitus macerer ignibus.uror, seu tibi candidosturparunt umeros inmodicae merorixae sive puer furensinpressit memorem dente labris notam.non, si me satis audias,speres perpetuum dulcia barbarelaedentem oscula, quae Venusquinta parte sui nectaris imbuit.felices ter et ampliusquos inrupta tenet copula nec malisdivolsus querimoniissuprema citius solvet amor die.O navis, referent in mare te novifluctus. o quid agis? fortiter occupaportum. nonne vides, utnudum remigio latuset malus celeri saucius Africoantemnaeque gemant ac sine funibusvix durare carinaepossint imperiosiusaequor? non tibi sunt integra lintea,non di, quos iterum pressa voces malo.quamvis Pontica pinus,silvae filia nobilis,iactes et genus et nomen inutile:nil pictis timidus navita puppibusfidit. tu, nisi ventisdebes ludibrium, cave.nuper sollicitum quae mihi taedium,nunc desiderium curaque non levis,interfusa nitentisvites aequora Cycladas.Pastor cum traheret per freta navibusIdaeis Helenen perfidus hospitam,ingrato celeres obruit otioventos ut caneret feraNereus fata. “mala ducis avi domumquam multo repetet Graecia militeconiurata tuas rumpere nuptiaset regnum Priami vetus.heu heu, quantus equis, quantus adest virissudor, quanta moves funera Dardanaegenti. iam galeam Pallas et aegidacurrusque et rabiem parat.nequiquam Veneris praesidio feroxpectes caesariem grataque feminisinbelli cithara carmina divides;nequiquam thalamo gravishastas et calami spicula Cnosiivitabis strepitumque et celerem sequiAiacem: tamen, heu serus, adulteroscrines pulvere collines.non Laertiaden, exitium tuaegenti, non Pylium Nestora respicis?urgent inpavidi te SalaminiusTeucer, te Sthenelus, scienspugnae sive opus est imperitare equis,non auriga piger. Merionen quoquenosces. ecce furit, te reperire atrox,Tydides melior patre:quem tu, cervus uti vallis in alteravisum parte lupum graminis inmemor,sublimi fugies mollis anhelitu,non hoc pollicitus tuae.iracunda diem proferet Iliomatronisque Phrygum classis Achillei;post certas hiemes uret Achaicusignis Iliacas domos.O matre pulcra filia pulchrior,quem criminosis cumque voles modumpones iambis, sive flammasive mari libet Hadriano.non Dindymene, non adytis quatitmentem sacerdotum incola Pythius,non Liber aeque, non acutasic geminant Corybantes aera,tristes ut irae, quas neque Noricusdeterret ensis nec mare naufragumnec saevos ignis nec tremendoIuppiter ipse ruens tumultu.fertur Prometheus addere principilimo coactus particulam undiquedesectam et insani leonisvim stomacho adposuisse nostro.irae Thyesten exitio gravistravere et altis urbibus ultimaestetere causae, cur perirentfunditus inprimeretque murishostile aratrum exercitus insolens.conpesce mentem: me quoque pectoristemptavit in dulci iuventafervor et in celeres iambosmisit furentem. nunc ego mitibusmutare quaero tristia, dum mihifias recantatis amicaopprobriis animumque reddas.Velox amoenum saepe Lucretilemmutat Lycaeo Faunus et igneamdefendit aestatem capellisusque meis pluviosque ventos.inpune tutum per nemus arbutosquaerunt latentis et thyma deviaeolentis uxores maritinec viridis metuunt colubrasnec Martialis haediliae lupos,utcumque dulci, Tyndari, fistulavalles et Usticae cubantislevia personuere saxa.di me tuentur, dis pietas meaet musa cordi est. hic tibi copiamanabit ad plenum benignoruris honorum opulenta cornu.hic in reducta valle Caniculaevitabis aestus et fide Teiadices laborantis in unoPenelopen vitreamque Circen;hic innocentis pocula Lesbiiduces sub umbra nec Semeleiuscum Marte confundet Thyoneusproelia nec metues protervumsuspecta Cyrum, ne male dispariincontinentis iniciat manuset scindat haerentem coronamcrinibus inmeritamque vestem.Nullam, Vare, sacra vite prius severis arboremcirca mite solum Tiburis et moenia Catili;siccis omnia nam dura deus proposuit nequemordaces aliter diffugiunt sollicitudines.quis post vina gravem militiam aut pauperiem crepat?quis non te potius, Bacche pater, teque, decens Venus?ac ne quis modici transiliat munera Liberi,Centaurea monet cum Lapithis rixa super merodebellata, monet Sithoniis non levis Euhius,cum fas atque nefas exiguo fine libidinumdiscernunt avidi. non ego te, candide Bassareu,invitum quatiam nec variis obsita frondibussub divum rapiam. saeva tene cum Berecyntiocornu tympana, quae subsequitur caecus amor suiet tollens vacuum plus nimio gloria verticemarcanique fides prodiga, perlucidior vitro.Mater saeva CupidinumThebanaeque iubet me Semelae pueret lasciva Licentiafinitis animum reddere amoribus.urit me Glycerae nitorsplendentis Pario marmore purius,urit grata protervitaset voltus nimium lubricus adspici.in me tota ruens VenusCyprum deseruit nec patitur Scythaset versis animosum equisParthum dicere nec quae nihil attinent.hic vivum mihi caespitem, hicverbenas, pueri, ponite turaquebimi cum patera meri:mactata veniet lenior hostia.Vile potabis modicis Sabinumcantharis, Graeca quod ego ipse testaconditum levi, datus in theatrocum tibi plausus,clare Maecenas eques, ut paternifluminis ripae simul et iocosaredderet laudes tibi Vaticanimontis imago.Caecubum et prelo domitam Calenotu bibes uvam: mea nec Falernaetemperant vites neque Formianipocula colles.Dianam tenerae dicite virgines,intonsum pueri dicite CynthiumLatonamque supremodilectam penitus Iovi.vos laetam fluviis et nemorum comaquaecumque aut gelido prominet Algidonigris aut Erymanthisilvis aut viridis Cragi;vos Tempe totidem tollite laudibusnatalemque, mares, Delon Apollinisinsignemque pharetrafraternaque umerum lyra.hic bellum lacrimosum, hic miseram famempestemque a populo et principe Caesare inPersas atque Britannosvestra motus aget prece.Integer vitae scelerisque purusnon eget Mauris iaculis neque arcunec venenatis gravida sagittis,Fusce, pharetra,sive per Syrtis iter aestuosassive facturus per inhospitalemCaucasum vel quae loca fabulosuslambit Hydaspes.namque me silva lupus in Sabina,dum meam canto Lalagen et ultraterminum curis vagor expeditis,fugit inermem;quale portentum neque militarisDaunias latis alit aesculetisnec Iubae tellus generat, leonumarida nutrix.pone me pigris ubi nulla campisarbor aestiva recreatur aura,quod latus mundi nebulae malusqueIuppiter urget;pone sub curru nimium propinquisolis in terra domibus negata:dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,dulce loquentem.Vitas hinnuleo me similis, Chloe,quaerenti pavidam montibus aviismatrem non sine vanoaurarum et siluae metu.nam seu mobilibus veris inhorruitadventus foliis seu virides rubumdimovere lacertae,et corde et genibus tremit.atqui non ego te tigris ut asperaGaetulusve leo frangere persequor:tandem desine matremtempestiva sequi viro.Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modustam cari capitis? praecipe lugubriscantus, Melpomene, cui liquidam patervocem cum cithara dedit.ergo Quintilium perpetuus soporurget? cui Pudor et Iustitiae sororincorrupta Fides nudaque Veritasquando ullum inveniet parem?multis ille bonis flebilis occidit,nulli flebilior quam tibi, Vergili.tu, frustra pius, heu non ita creditumposcis Quintilium deos.quid? si Threicio blandius Orpheoauditam moderere arboribus fidem,num vanae redeat sanguis imagini,quam virga semel horridanon lenis precibus fata recluderenigro conpulerit Mercurius gregi?durum: sed levius fit patientiaquidquid corrigere est nefas.Parcius iunctas quatiunt fenestrasiactibus crebris iuvenes protervinec tibi somnos adimunt amatqueianua limen,quae prius multum facilis movebatcardines. audis minus et minus iam:“me tuo longas pereunte noctes,Lydia, dormis?”invicem moechos anus arrogantisflebis in solo levis angiportuThracio bacchante magis sub inter-lunia vento,cum tibi flagrans amor et libido,quae solet matres furiare equorum,saeviet circa iecur ulcerosumnon sine questu,laeta quod pubes hedera virentigaudeat pulla magis atque myrto,aridas frondes hiemis sodalidedicet Euro.Musis amicus tristitiam et metustradam protervis in mare Creticumportare ventis, quis sub Arctorex gelidae metuatur orae,quid Tiridaten terreat, unicesecurus. o quae fontibus integrisgaudes, apricos necte flores,necte meo Lamiae coronam,Piplei dulcis. nil sine te meiprosunt honores: hunc fidibus novis,hunc Lesbio sacrare plectroteque tuasque decet sorores.Natis in usum laetitiae scyphispugnare Thracum est: tollite barbarummorem verecundumque Bacchumsanguineis prohibete rixis.vino et lucernis Medus acinacesimmane quantum discrepat: inpiumlenite clamorem sodaleset cubito remanete presso.voltis severi me quoque sumerepartem Falerni? dicat Opuntiaefrater Megillae, quo beatusvolnere, qua pereat sagitta.cessat voluntas? non alia bibammercede. quae te cumque domat Venus,non erubescendis aduritignibus ingenuoque semperamore peccas. quidquid habes, age,depone tutis auribus. a miser,quanta laborabas Charybdi,digne puer meliore flamma.quae saga, quis te solvere Thessalismagus venenis, quis poterit deus?vix inligatum te triformiPegasus expediet Chimaera.Te maris et terrae numeroque carentis harenaemensorem cohibent, Archyta,pulveris exigui prope litus parva Matinummunera nec quicquam tibi prodestaerias temptasse domos animoque rotundumpercurrisse polum morituro.occidit et Pelopis genitor, conviva deorum,Tithonusque remotus in auraset Iovis arcanis Minos admissus habentqueTartara Panthoiden iterum Orcodemissum, quamvis clipeo Troiana refixotempora testatus nihil ultranervos atque cutem morti concesserat atrae,iudice te non sordidus auctornaturae verique. sed omnis una manet noxet calcanda semel via leti.dant alios Furiae torvo spectacula Marti,exitio est avidum mare nautis;mixta senum ac iuvenum densentur funera, nullumsaeva caput Proserpina fugit:me quoque devexi rapidus comes OrionisIllyricis Notus obruit undis.at tu, nauta, vagae ne parce malignus harenaeossibus et capiti inhumatoparticulam dare: sic quodcumque minabitur Eurusfluctibus Hesperiis Venusinaeplectantur silvae te sospite multaque mercesunde potest tibi defluat aequoab Iove Neptunoque sacri custode Tarenti.neglegis inmeritis nociturampostmodo te natis fraudem conmittere? fors etdebita iura vicesque superbaete maneant ipsum: precibus non linquar inultisteque piacula nulla resolvent.quamquam festinas, non est mora longa; licebitiniecto ter pulvere curras.Icci, beatis nunc Arabum invidesgazis et acrem militiam parasnon ante devictis Sabaeaeregibus horribilique Medonectis catenas? quae tibi virginumsponso necato barbara serviet,puer quis ex aula capillisad cyathum statuetur unctisdoctus sagittas tendere Sericasarcu paterno? quis neget arduispronos relabi posse rivosmontibus et Tiberim reverti,cum tu coemptos undique nobilislibros Panaeti Socraticam et domummutare loricis Hiberis,pollicitus meliora, tendis?O Venus regina Cnidi Paphique,sperne dilectam Cypron et vocantisture te multo Glycerae decoramtransfer in aedem.fervidus tecum puer et solutisGratiae zonis properentque Nymphaeet parum comis sine te IuventasMercuriusque.Quid dedicatum poscit Apollinemvates? quid orat de patera novumfundens liquorem? non opimaeSardiniae segetes feracis,non aestuosae grata Calabriaearmenta, non aurum aut ebur Indicum,non rura, quae Liris quietamordet aqua taciturnus amnis.premant Calenam falce quibus deditfortuna vitem, dives ut aureismercator exsiccet culillisvina Syra reparata merce,dis carus ipsis, quippe ter et quateranno revisens aequor Atlanticuminpune. me pascunt olivae,me cichorea levesque malvae.frui paratis et valido mihi,Latoe, dones et precor integracum mente nec turpem senectamdegere nec cithara carentem.Poscimur. si quid vacui sub umbralusimus tecum, quod et hunc in annumvivat et pluris, age dic Latinum,barbite, carmen,Lesbio primum modulate civi,qui ferox bello tamen, inter armasive iactatam religarat udolitore navim,Liberum et Musas Veneremque et illisemper haerentem puerum canebatet Lycum nigris oculis nigroquecrine decorum.o decus Phoebi et dapibus supremigrata testudo Iovis, o laborumdulce lenimen, mihi cumque salverite vocanti!Albi, ne doleas plus nimio memorinmitis Glycerae neu miserabilisdecantes elegos, cur tibi iuniorlaesa praeniteat fide.insignem tenui fronte LycoridaCyri torret amor, Cyrus in asperamdeclinat Pholoen: sed prius Apulisiungentur capreae lupisquam turpi Pholoe peccet adultero.sic visum Veneri, cui placet inparesformas atque animos sub iuga aeneasaevo mittere cum ioco.ipsum me melior cum peteret Venus,grata detinuit compede Myrtalelibertina, fretis acrior Hadriaecurvantis Calabros sinus.Parcus deorum cultor et infrequens,insanientis dum sapientiaeconsultus erro, nunc retrorsumvela dare atque iterare cursuscogor relictos: namque Diespiter,igni corusco nubila dividensplerumque, per purum tonantisegit equos volucremque currum,quo bruta tellus et vaga flumina,quo Styx et invisi horrida Taenarisedes Atlanteusque finisconcutitur. valet ima summismutare et insignem attenuat deusobscura promens; hinc apicem rapax:Fortuna cum stridore acutosustulit, hic posuisse gaudet.O diva, gratum quae regis Antium,praesens vel imo tollere de gradumortale corpus vel superbosvertere funeribus triumphos:te pauper ambit sollicita preceruris colonus, te dominam aequorisquicumque Bithyna lacessitCarpathium pelagus carina;te Dacus asper, te profugi Scythaeurbesque gentesque et Latium feroxregumque matres barbarorum etpurpurei metuunt tyranni,iniurioso ne pede proruasstantem columnam neu populus frequensad arma, cessantis ad armaconcitet imperiumque frangat;te semper anteit saeva Necessitas,clavos trabalis et cuneos manugestans aena nec severusuncus abest liquidumque plumbum;te Spes et albo rara Fides colitvelata panno nec comitem abnegat,utcumque mutata potentisveste domos inimica linquis,at volgus infidum et meretrix retroperiura cedit, diffugiunt cadiscum faece siccatis amici,ferre iugum pariter dolosi:serves iturum Caesarem in ultimosorbis Britannos et iuvenum recensexamen Eois timendumpartibus Oceanoque rubro.heu heu, cicatricum et sceleris pudetfratrumque. quid nos dura refugimusaetas? quid intactum nefastiliquimus? unde manum iuventusmetu deorum continuit? quibuspepercit aris? o utinam novaincude diffingas retusum inMassagetas Arabasque ferrum.Et ture et fidibus iuvatplacare et vituli sanguine debitocustodes Numidae deos,qui nunc Hesperia sospes ab ultimacaris multa sodalibus,nulli plura tamen dividet osculaquam dulci Lamiae, memoractae non alio rege puertiaemutataeque simul togae.Cressa ne careat pulcra dies notaneu promptae modus amphoraeneu morem in Salium sit requies pedumneu multi Damalis meriBassum Threicia vincat amystideneu desint epulis rosaeneu vivax apium neu breve lilium.omnes in Damalin putrisdeponent oculos nec Damalis novodivelletur adulterolascivis hederis ambitiosior.Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede liberopulsanda tellus; nunc Saliaribusornare pulvinar deorumtempus erat dapibus, sodales.antehac nefas depromere Caecubumcellis avitis, dum Capitolioregina dementis ruinas,funus et imperio parabatcontaminato cum grege turpiummorbo virorum quidlibet inpotenssperare fortunaque dulciebria. sed minuit furoremvix una sospes navis ab ignibusmentemque lymphatam Mareoticoredegit in veros timoresCaesar ab Italia volantemremis adurgens, accipiter velutmollis columbas aut leporem citusvenator in campis nivalisHaemoniae, daret ut catenisfatale monstrum. quae generosiusperire quaerens nec muliebriterexpavit ensem nec latentisclasse cita reparavit oras.ausa et iacentem visere regiamvoltu sereno, fortis et asperastractare serpentes, ut atrumcorpore conbiberet venenum,deliberata morte ferocior;saevis Liburnis scilicet invidensprivata deduci superbo,non humilis mulier, triumpho.Persicos odi, puer, adparatus,displicent nexae philyra coronae,mitte sectari, rosa quo locorumsera moretur.simplici myrto nihil adlaboressedulus curo: neque te ministrumdedecet myrtus neque me sub artavite bibentem.