But pause, gay Muse, nor leave your playAnother Cean dirge to sing;With me to Venus' bower away,And there attune a lighter string.The silver, Sallust, shows not fairWhile buried in the greedy mine:You love it not till moderate wearHave given it shine.Honour to Proculeius! heTo brethren play'd a father's part;Fame shall embalm through years to beThat noble heart.Who curbs a greedy soul may boastMore power than if his broad-based throneBridged Libya's sea, and either coastWere all his own.Indulgence bids the dropsy grow;Who fain would quench the palate's flameMust rescue from the watery foeThe pale weak frame.Phraates, throned where Cyrus sate,May count for blest with vulgar herds,But not with Virtue; soon or lateFrom lying wordsShe weans men's lips; for him she keepsThe crown, the purple, and the bays,Who dares to look on treasure-heapsWith unblench'd gaze.An equal mind, when storms o'ercloud,Maintain, nor 'neath a brighter skyLet pleasure make your heart too proud,O Dellius, Dellius! sure te die,Whether in gloom you spend each year,Or through long holydays at easeIn grassy nook your spirit cheerWith old Falernian vintages,Where poplar pale, and pine-tree highTheir hospitable shadows spreadEntwined, and panting waters tryTo hurry down their zigzag bed.Bring wine and scents, and roses' bloom,Too brief, alas! to that sweet place;While life, and fortune, and the loomOf the Three Sisters yield you grace.Soon must you leave the woods you buy,Your villa, wash'd by Tiber's flow,Leave,—and your treasures, heap'd so high,Your reckless heir will level low.Whether from Argos' founder bornIn wealth you lived beneath the sun,Or nursed in beggary and scorn,You fall to Death, who pities none.One way all travel; the dark urnShakes each man's lot, that soon or lateWill force him, hopeless of return,On board the exile-ship of Fate.Why, Xanthias, blush to own you loveYour slave? Briseis, long ago,A captive, could Achilles moveWith breast of snow.Tecmessa's charms enslaved her lord,Stout Ajax, heir of Telamon;Atrides, in his pride, adoredThe maid he won,When Troy to Thessaly gave way,And Hector's all too quick deceaseMade Pergamus an easier preyTo wearied Greece.What if, as auburn Phyllis' mate,You graft yourself on regal stem?Oh yes! be sure her sires were great;She weeps for them.Believe me, from no rascal scumYour charmer sprang; so true a flame,Such hate of greed, could never comeFrom vulgar dame.With honest fervour I commendThose lips, those eyes; you need not fearA rival, hurrying on to endHis fortieth year.Septimius, who with me would braveFar Gades, and Cantabrian landUntamed by Rome, and Moorish waveThat whirls the sand;Fair Tibur, town of Argive kings,There would I end my days serene,At rest from seas and travellings,And service seen.Should angry Fate those wishes foil,Then let me seek Galesus, sweetTo skin-clad sheep, and that rich soil,The Spartan's seat.O, what can match the green recess,Whose honey not to Hybla yields,Whose olives vie with those that blessVenafrum's fields?Long springs, mild winters glad that spotBy Jove's good grace, and Aulon, dearTo fruitful Bacchus, envies notFalernian cheer.That spot, those happy heights desireOur sojourn; there, when life shall end,Your tear shall dew my yet warm pyre,Your bard and friend.O, oft with me in troublous timeInvolved, when Brutus warr'd in Greece,Who gives you back to your own climeAnd your own gods, a man of peace,Pompey, the earliest friend I knew,With whom I oft cut short the hoursWith wine, my hair bright bathed in dewOf Syrian oils, and wreathed with flowers?With you I shared Philippi's rout,Unseemly parted from my shield,When Valour fell, and warriors stoutWere tumbled on the inglorious field:But I was saved by Mercury,Wrapp'd in thick mist, yet trembling sore,While you to that tempestuous seaWere swept by battle's tide once more.Come, pay to Jove the feast you owe;Lay down those limbs, with warfare spent,Beneath my laurel; nor be slowTo drain my cask; for you 'twas meant.Lethe's true draught is Massic wine;Fill high the goblet; pour out freeRich streams of unguent. Who will twineThe hasty wreath from myrtle-treeOr parsley? Whom will Venus seatChairman of cups? Are Bacchants sane?Then I'll be sober. O, 'tis sweetTo fool, when friends come home again!Had chastisement for perjured truth,Barine, mark'd you with a curse—Did one wry nail, or one black tooth,But make you worse—I'd trust you; but, when plighted liesHave pledged you deepest, lovelier farYou sparkle forth, of all young eyesThe ruling star.'Tis gain to mock your mother's bones,And night's still signs, and all the sky,And gods, that on their glorious thronesChill Death defy.Ay, Venus smiles; the pure nymphs smile,And Cupid, tyrant-lord of hearts,Sharpening on bloody stone the whileHis fiery darts.New captives fill the nets you weave;New slaves are bred; and those before,Though oft they threaten, never leaveYour godless door.The mother dreads you for her son,The thrifty sire, the new-wed bride,Lest, lured by you, her precious oneShould leave her side.The rain, it rains not every dayOn the soak'd meads; the Caspian mainNot always feels the unequal swayOf storms, nor on Armenia's plain,Dear Valgius, lies the cold dull snowThrough all the year; nor northwinds keenUpon Garganian oakwoods blow,And strip the ashes of their green.You still with tearful tones pursueYour lost, lost Mystes; Hesper seesYour passion when he brings the dew,And when before the sun he flees.Yet not for loved AntilochusGrey Nestor wasted all his yearsIn grief; nor o'er young TroilusHis parents' and his sisters' tearsFor ever flow'd. At length have doneWith these soft sorrows; rather tellOf Caesar's trophies newly won,And hoar Niphates' icy fell,And Medus' flood, 'mid conquer'd tribesRolling a less presumptuous tide,And Scythians taught, as Rome prescribes,Henceforth o'er narrower steppes to ride.Licinius, trust a seaman's lore:Steer not too boldly to the deep,Nor, fearing storms, by treacherous shoreToo closely creep.Who makes the golden mean his guide,Shuns miser's cabin, foul and dark,Shuns gilded roofs, where pomp and prideAre envy's mark.With fiercer blasts the pine's dim heightIs rock'd; proud towers with heavier fallCrash to the ground; and thunders smiteThe mountains tall.In sadness hope, in gladness fear'Gainst coming change will fortifyYour breast. The storms that JupiterSweeps o'er the skyHe chases. Why should rain todayBring rain tomorrow? Python's foeIs pleased sometimes his lyre to play,Nor bends his bow.Be brave in trouble; meet distressWith dauntless front; but when the galeToo prosperous blows, be wise no less,And shorten sail.O ask not what those sons of war,Cantabrian, Scythian, each intend,Disjoin'd from us by Hadria's bar,Nor puzzle, Quintius, how to spendA life so simple. Youth removes,And Beauty too; and hoar DecayDrives out the wanton tribe of LovesAnd Sleep, that came or night or day.The sweet spring-flowers not always keepTheir bloom, nor moonlight shines the sameEach evening. Why with thoughts too deepO'ertask a mind of mortal frame?Why not, just thrown at careless ease'Neath plane or pine, our locks of greyPerfumed with Syrian essencesAnd wreathed with roses, while we may,Lie drinking? Bacchus puts to shameThe cares that waste us. Where's the slaveTo quench the fierce Falernian's flameWith water from the passing wave?Who'll coax coy Lyde from her home?Go, bid her take her ivory lyre,The runaway, and haste to come,Her wild hair bound with Spartan tire.The weary war where fierce Numantia bled,Fell Hannibal, the swoln Sicilian mainPurpled with Punic blood—not mine to wedThese to the lyre's soft strain,Nor cruel Lapithae, nor, mad with wine,Centaurs, nor, by Herculean arm o'ercome,The earth-born youth, whose terrors dimm'd the shineOf the resplendent domeOf ancient Saturn. You, Maecenas, bestIn pictured prose of Caesar's warrior featsWill tell, and captive kings with haughty crestLed through the Roman streets.On me the Muse has laid her charge to tellOf your Licymnia's voice, the lustrous hueOf her bright eye, her heart that beats so wellTo mutual passion true:How nought she does but lends her added grace,Whether she dance, or join in bantering play,Or with soft arms the maiden choir embraceOn great Diana's day.Say, would you change for all the wealth possestBy rich Achaemenes or Phrygia's heir,Or the full stores of Araby the blest,One lock of her dear hair,While to your burning lips she bends her neck,Or with kind cruelty denies the dueShe means you not to beg for, but to take,Or snatches it from you?Black day he chose for planting thee,Accurst he rear'd thee from the ground,The bane of children yet to be,The scandal of the village round.His father's throat the monster press'dBeside, and on his hearthstone spilt,I ween, the blood of midnight guest;Black Colchian drugs, whate'er of guiltIs hatch'd on earth, he dealt in all—Who planted in my rural steadThee, fatal wood, thee, sure to fallUpon thy blameless master's head.The dangers of the hour! no thoughtWe give them; Punic seaman's fearIs all of Bosporus, nor aughtReeks he of pitfalls otherwhere;The soldier fears the mask'd retreatOf Parthia; Parthia dreads the thrallOf Rome; but Death with noiseless feetHas stolen and will steal on all.How near dark Pluto's court I stood,And Aeacus' judicial throne,The blest seclusion of the good,And Sappho, with sweet lyric moanBewailing her ungentle sex,And thee, Alcaeus, louder farChanting thy tale of woful wrecks,Of woful exile, woful war!In sacred awe the silent deadAttend on each: but when the songOf combat tells and tyrants fled,Keen ears, press'd shoulders, closer throng.What marvel, when at those sweet airsThe hundred-headed beast spell-boundEach black ear droops, and Furies' hairsUncoil their serpents at the sound?Prometheus too and Pelops' sireIn listening lose the sense of woe;Orion hearkens to the lyre,And lets the lynx and lion go.Ah, Postumus! they fleet away,Our years, nor piety one hourCan win from wrinkles and decay,And Death's indomitable power;Not though three hundred bullocks flameEach year, to soothe the tearless kingWho holds huge Geryon's triple frameAnd Tityos in his watery ring,That circling flood, which all must stem,Who eat the fruits that Nature yields,Wearers of haughtiest diadem,Or humblest tillers of the fields.In vain we shun war's contact redOr storm-tost spray of Hadrian main:In vain, the season through, we dreadFor our frail lives Scirocco's bane.Cocytus' black and stagnant oozeMust welcome you, and Danaus' seedIll-famed, and ancient SisyphusTo never-ending toil decreed.Your land, your house, your lovely brideMust lose you; of your cherish'd treesNone to its fleeting master's sideWill cleave, but those sad cypresses.Your heir, a larger soul, will drainThe hundred-padlock'd Caecuban,And richer spilth the pavement stainThan e'er at pontiff's supper ran.Few roods of ground the piles we raiseWill leave to plough; ponds wider spreadThan Lucrine lake will meet the gazeOn every side; the plane unwedWill top the elm; the violet-bed,The myrtle, each delicious sweet,On olive-grounds their scent will shed,Where once were fruit-trees yielding meat;Thick bays will screen the midday rangeOf fiercest suns. Not such the ruleOf Romulus, and Cato sage,And all the bearded, good old school.Each Roman's wealth was little worth,His country's much; no colonnadeFor private pleasance wooed the NorthWith cool “prolixity of shade.”None might the casual sod disdainTo roof his home; a town alone,At public charge, a sacred faneWere honour'd with the pomp of stone.For ease, in wide Aegean caught,The sailor prays, when clouds are hidingThe moon, nor shines of starlight aughtFor seaman's guiding:For ease the Mede, with quiver gay:For ease rude Thrace, in battle cruel:Can purple buy it, Grosphus? Nay,Nor gold, nor jewel.No pomp, no lictor clears the way'Mid rabble-routs of troublous feelings,Nor quells the cares that sport and playRound gilded ceilings.More happy he whose modest boardHis father's well-worn silver brightens;No fear, nor lust for sordid hoard,His light sleep frightens.Why bend our bows of little span?Why change our homes for regions underAnother sun? What exiled manFrom self can sunder?Care climbs the bark, and trims the sail,Curst fiend! nor troops of horse can 'scape her,More swift than stag, more swift than galeThat drives the vapour.Blest in the present, look not forthOn ills beyond, but soothe each bitterWith slow, calm smile. No suns on earthUnclouded glitter.Achilles' light was quench'd at noon;A long decay Tithonus minish'd;My hours, it may be, yet will runWhen yours are flnish'd.For you Sicilian heifers low,Bleat countless flocks; for you are neighingProud coursers; Afric purples glowFor your arrayingWith double dyes; a small domain,The soul that breathed in Grecian harping,My portion these; and high disdainOf ribald carping.Why rend my heart with that sad sigh?It cannot please the gods or meThat you, Maecenas, first should die,My pillar of prosperity.Ah! should I lose one half my soulUntimely, can the other stayBehind it? Life that is not whole,Is that as sweet? The self-same dayShall crush us twain; no idle oathHas Horace sworn; whene'er you go,We both will travel, travel bothThe last dark journey down below.No, not Chimaera's fiery breath,Nor Gyas, could he rise again,Shall part us; Justice, strong as death,So wills it; so the Fates ordain.Whether 'twas Libra saw me bornOr angry Scorpio, lord malignOf natal hour, or Capricorn,The tyrant of the western brine,Our planets sure with concord strangeAre blended. You by Jove's blest powerWere snatch'd from out the baleful rangeOf Saturn, and the evil hourWas stay'd, when rapturous benches fullThree times the auspicious thunder peal'd;Me the curst trunk, that smote my skull,Had slain; but Faunus, strong to shieldThe friends of Mercury, check'd the blowIn mid descent. Be sure to payThe victims and the fane you owe;Your bard a humbler lamb will slay.Carven ivory have I noneNo golden cornice in my dwelling shines;Pillars choice of Libyan stoneUpbear no architrave from Attic mines;'Twas not mine to enter inTo Attalus' broad realms, an unknown heir,Nor for me fair clients spinLaconian purples for their patron's wear.Truth is mine, and Genius mine;The rich man comes, and knocks at my low door:Favour'd thus, I ne'er repine,Nor weary out indulgent Heaven for more:In my Sabine homestead blest,Why should I further tax a generous friend?Suns are hurrying suns a-west,And newborn moons make speed to meet their end.You have hands to square and hewVast marble-blocks, hard on your day of doom,Ever building mansions new,Nor thinking of the mansion of the tomb.Now you press on ocean's bound,Where waves on Baiae beat, as earth were scant;Now absorb your neighbour's ground,And tear his landmarks up, your own to plant.Hedges set round clients' farmsYour avarice tramples; see, the outcasts fly,Wife and husband, in their armsTheir fathers' gods, their squalid family.Yet no hall that wealth e'er plann'dWaits you more surely than the wider roomTraced by Death's yet greedier hand.Why strain so far? you cannot leap the tomb.Earth removes the impartial sodAlike for beggar and for monarch's child:Nor the slave of Hell's dark godConvey'd Prometheus back, with bribe beguiled.Pelops he and Pelops' sireHolds, spite of pride, in close captivity;Beggars, who of labour tire,Call'd or uncall'd, he hears and sets them free.Bacchus I saw in mountain gladesRetired (believe it, after years!)Teaching his strains to Dryad maids,While goat-hoof'd satyrs prick'd their ears.Evoe! my eyes with terror glare;My heart is revelling with the god;'Tis madness! Evoe! spare, O spare,Dread wielder of the ivied rod!Yes, I may sing the Thyiad crew,The stream of wine, the sparkling rillsThat run with milk, and honey-dewThat from the hollow trunk distils;And I may sing thy consort's crown,New set in heaven, and Pentheus' hallWith ruthless ruin thundering down,And proud Lycurgus' funeral.Thou turn'st the rivers, thou the sea;Thou, on far summits, moist with wine,Thy Bacchants' tresses harmlesslyDost knot with living serpent-twine.Thou, when the giants, threatening wrack,Were clambering up Jove's citadel,Didst hurl o'erweening Rhoetus back,In tooth and claw a lion fell.Who knew thy feats in dance and playDeem'd thee belike for war's rough gameUnmeet: but peace and battle-frayFound thee, their centre, still the same.Grim Cerberus wagg'd his tail to seeThy golden horn, nor dreamd of wrong.But gently fawning, follow'd thee,And lick'd thy feet with triple tongue.No vulgar wing, nor weakly plied,Shall bear me through the liquid sky;A two-form'd bard, no more to bideWithin the range of envy's eye'Mid haunts of men. I, all ungracedBy gentle blood, I, whom you callYour friend, Maecenas, shall not tasteOf death, nor chafe in Lethe's thrall.E'en now a rougher skin expandsAlong my legs: above I changeTo a white bird; and o'er my handsAnd shoulders grows a plumage strange:Fleeter than Icarus, see me floatO'er Bosporus, singing as I go,And o'er Gaetulian sands remote,And Hyperborean fields of snow;By Dacian horde, that masks its fearOf Marsic steel, shall I be known,And furthest Scythian: Spain shall hearMy warbling, and the banks of Rhone.No dirges for my fancied death;No weak lament, no mournful stave;All clamorous grief were waste of breath,And vain the tribute of a grave.
sed ne relictis, Musa procax, iocisCeae retractes munera neniae,mecum Dionaeo sub antroquaere modos leviore plectro.Nullus argento color est avarisabdito terris, inimice lamnaeCrispe Sallusti, nisi temperatosplendeat usu.vivet extento Proculeius aevo,notus in fratres animi paterni:illum aget penna metuente solviFama superstes.latius regnes avidum domandospiritum quam si Libyam remotisGadibus iungas et uterque Poenusserviat uni.crescit indulgens sibi dirus hydropsnec sitim pellit, nisi causa morbifugerit venis et aquosus albocorpore languor.redditum Cyri solio Phraatendissidens plebi numero beatorumeximit Virtus populumque falsisdedocet utivocibus, regnum et diadema tutumdeferens uni propriamque laurumquisquis ingentis oculo inretortospectat acervos.Aequam memento rebus in arduisservare mentem, non secus in bonisab insolenti temperatamlaetitia, moriture Delli,seu maestus omni tempore vixerisseu te in remoto gramine per diesfestos reclinatum bearisinteriore nota Falerni.quo pinus ingens albaque populusumbram hospitalem consociare amantramis? quid obliquo laboratlympha fugax trepidare rivo?huc vina et unguenta et nimium brevisflores amoenae ferre iube rosae,dum res et aetas et sororumfila trium patiuntur atra.cedes coemptis saltibus et domovillaque, flavos quam Tiberis lavit,cedes et exstructis in altumdivitiis potietur heres.divesne prisco natus ab Inachonil interest an pauper et infimade gente sub divo moreris:victima nil miserantis Orci.omnes eodem cogimur, omniumversatur urna serius ociussors exitura et nos in aeternumexilium inpositura cumbae.Ne sit ancillae tibi amor pudori,Xanthia Phoceu: prius insolentemserva Briseis niveo coloremovit Achillem,movit Aiacem Telamone natumforma captivae dominum Tecmessae,arsit Atrides medio in triumphovirgine rapta,barbarae postquam cecidere turmaeThessalo victore et ademptus Hectortradidit fessis leviora tolliPergama Grais.nescias an te generum beatiPhyllidis flavae decorent parentes:regium certe genus, et penatismaeret iniquos.crede non illam tibi de scelestaplebe dilectam neque sic fidelem,sic lucro aversam potuisse nascimatre pudenda.bracchia et voltum teretesque surasinteger laudo: fuge suspicari,cuius octavum trepidavit aetasclaudere lustrum.Nondum subacta ferre iugum valetcervice, nondum munia conparisaequare nec tauri ruentisin venerem tolerare pondus;circa virentis est animus tuaecampos iuvencae nunc fluviis gravemsolantis aestum, nunc in udoludere cum vitulis salictopraegestientis. tolle cupidineminmitis uvae: iam tibi lividosdistinguet autumnus racemospurpureo varius colore.iam te sequetur (currit enim feroxaetas et illi quos tibi dempseritadponet annos), iam protervafronte petet Lalage maritumdilecta, quantum non Pholoe fugax,non Chloris albo sic umero nitensut pura nocturno renidetluna mari, Cnidiusve Gyges,quem si puellarum insereres choro,mire sagacis falleret hospitesdiscrimen obscurum solutiscrinibus ambiguoque voltu.Septimi, Gadis aditure mecum etCantabrum indoctum iuga ferre nostra etbarbaras Syrtis, ubi Maura semperaestuat unda:Tibur Argeo positum colonosit meae sedes utinam senectae,sit modus lasso maris et viarummilitiaeque.unde si Parcae prohibent iniquae,dulce pellitis ovibus Galaesiflumen et regnata petam Laconirura Phalanthoille terrarum mihi praeter omnisangulus ridet, ubi non Hymettomella decedunt viridique certatbaca Venafro,ver ubi longum tepidasque praebetIuppiter brumas et amicus Aulonfertili Baccho minimum Falernisinvidet uvis;ille te mecum locus et beataepostulant arces: ibi tu calentemdebita sparges lacrima favillamvatis amici.O saepe mecum tempus in ultimumdeducte Bruto militiae duce,quis te redonavit Quiritemdis patriis Italoque caelo,Pompei, meorum prime sodalium,cum quo morantem saepe diem merofregi, coronatus nitentismalobathro Syrio capillos?tecum Philippos et celerem fugamsensi relicta non bene parmula,cum fracta virtus, et minacesturpe solum tetigere mento;sed me per hostis Mercurius celerdenso paventem sustulit aere,te rursus in bellum resorbensunda fretis tulit aestuosis.ergo obligatam redde Iovi dapemlongaque fessum militia latusdepone sub lauru mea necparce cadis tibi destinatis.oblivioso levia Massicociboria exple, funde capacibusunguenta de conchis. quis udodeproperare apio coronascuratve myrto? quem Venus arbitrumdicet bibendi? non ego saniusbacchabor Edonis: receptodulce mihi furere est amico.Vlla si iuris tibi peieratipoena, Barine, nocuisset umquam,dente si nigro fieres vel unoturpior ungui,crederem: sed tu simul obligastiperfidum votis caput, enitescispulchrior multo iuvenumque prodispublica cura.expedit matris cineres opertosfallere et toto taciturna noctissigna cum caelo gelidaque divosmorte carentisridet hoc, inquam, Venus ipsa, ridentsimplices Nymphae, ferus et Cupidosemper ardentis acuens sagittascote cruenta.adde quod pubes tibi crescit omnis,servitus crescit nova nec prioresinpiae tectum dominae relinquunt,saepe minati.te suis matres metuunt iuvencis,te senes parci miseraeque nupervirgines nuptae, tua ne retardetaura maritos.Non semper imbres nubibus hispidosmanant in agros aut mare Caspiumvexant inaequales procellaeusque nec Armeniis in oris,amice Valgi, stat glacies inersmensis per omnis aut Aquilonibusquerceta Gargani laborantet foliis viduantur orni:tu semper urges flebilibus modisMysten ademptum nec tibi Vesperosurgente decedunt amoresnec rapidum fugiente solem.at non ter aevo functus amabilemploravit omnis Antilochum senexannos nec inpubem parentesTroilon aut Phrygiae sororesflevere semper. desine molliumtandem querellarum et potius novacantemus Augusti tropaeaCaesaris et rigidum NiphatenMedumque flumen gentibus additumvictis minores volvere verticesintraque praescriptum Gelonosexiguis equitare campis.Rectius vives, Licini, neque altumsemper urgendo neque, dum procellascautus horrescis, nimium premendolitus iniquum.auream quisquis mediocritatemdiligit, tutus caret obsoletisordibus tecti, caret invidendasobrius aula.saepius ventis agitatur ingenspinus et celsae graviore casudecidunt turres feriuntque summosfulgura montissperat infestis, metuit secundisalteram sortem bene praeparatumpectus. informis hiemes reducitIuppiter, idemsubmovet. non, si male nunc, et olimsic erit: quondam cithara tacentemsuscitat Musam neque semper arcumtendit Apollo.rebus angustis animosus atquefortis adpare: sapienter idemcontrahes vento nimium secundoturgida vela.Quid bellicosus Cantaber et Scythes,Hirpine Quinti, cogitet Hadriadivisus obiecto, remittasquaerere nec trepides in usumposcentis aevi pauca: fugit retrolevis iuventas et decor aridapellente lascivos amorescanitie facilemque somnum.non semper idem floribus est honorvernis neque uno luna rubens nitetvoltu: quid aeternis minoremconsiliis animum fatigas?cur non sub alta vel platano vel hacpinu iacentes sic temere et rosacanos odorati capillos,dum licet, Assyriaque nardopotamus uncti? dissipat Euhiuscuras edacis. quis puer ociusrestinguet ardentis Falernipocula praetereunte lympha?quis devium scortum eliciet domoLyden? eburna, dic age, cum lyramaturet, in comptum Lacaenaemore comam religata nodum.Nolis longa ferae bella Numantiaenec durum Hannibalem nec Siculum marePoeno purpureum sanguine mollibusaptari citharae modisnec saevos Lapithas et nimium meroHylaeum domitosque Herculea manuTelluris iuvenes, unde periculumfulgens contremuit domusSaturni veteris: tuque pedestribusdices historiis proelia Caesaris,Maecenas, melius ductaque per viasregum colla minacium.me dulcis dominae Musa Licymniaecantus, me voluit dicere lucidumfulgentis oculos et bene mutuisfidum pectus amoribus;quam nec ferre pedem dedecuit chorisnec certare ioco nec dare bracchialudentem nitidis virginibus sacroDianae celebris die.num tu quae tenuit dives Achaemenesaut pinguis Phrygiae Mygdonias opespermutare velis crine Licymniaeplenas aut Arabum domos,cum flagrantia detorquet ad osculacervicem aut facili saevitia negatquae poscente magis gaudeat eripi,interdum rapere occupet?Ille et nefasto te posuit diequicumque primum, et sacrilega manuproduxit, arbos, in nepotumperniciem opprobriumque pagi;illum et parentis crediderim suifregisse cervicem et penetraliasparsisse nocturno cruorehospitis; ille venena Colchaet quidquid usquam concipitur nefastractavit, agro qui statuit meote, triste lignum, te, caducumin domini caput inmerentisquid quisque vitet, numquam homini satiscautum est in horas: navita BosporumPoenus perhorrescit neque ultracaeca timet aliunde fata,miles sagittas et celerem fugamParthi, catenas Parthus et Italumrobur; sed inprovisa letivis rapuit rapietque gentis.quam paene furvae regna Proserpinaeet iudicantem vidimus Aeacumsedesque discriptas piorum etAeoliis fidibus querentemSappho puellis de popularibuset te sonantem plenius aureo,Alcaee, plectro dura navis,dura fugae mala, dura belli.utrumque sacro digna silentiomirantur umbrae dicere, sed magispugnas et exactos tyrannosdensum umeris bibit aure volgus.quid mirum, ubi illis carminibus stupensdemittit atras belua centicepsauris et intorti capillisEumenidum recreantur angues?quin et Prometheus et Pelopis parensdulci laborem decipitur sononec curat Orion leonesaut timidos agitare lyncasEheu fugaces, Postume, Postume,labuntur anni nec pietas moramrugis et instanti senectaeadferet indomitaeque morti,non, si trecenis quotquot eunt dies,amice, places inlacrimabilemPlutona tauris, qui ter amplumGeryonen Tityonque tristiconpescit unda, scilicet omnibusquicumque terrae munere vescimurenaviganda, sive regessive inopes erimus coloni.frustra cruento Marte carebimusfractisque rauci fluctibus Hadriae,frustra per autumnos nocentemcorporibus metuemus Austrum:visendus ater flumine languidoCocytos errans et Danai genusinfame damnatusque longiSisyphus Aeolides laboris.linquenda tellus et domus et placensuxor neque harum quas colis arborumte praeter invisas cupressosulla brevem dominum sequetur.absumet heres Caecuba digniorservata centum clavibus et merotinguet pavimentum superbo,pontificum potiore cenis.Iam pauca aratro iugera regiaemoles relinquent, undique latiusextenta visentur Lucrinostagna lacu platanusque caelebsevincet ulmos; tum violaria etmyrtus et omnis copia nariumspargent olivetis odoremfertilibus domino priori,tum spissa ramis laurea fervidosexcludet ictus. non ita Romulipraescriptum et intonsi Catonisauspiciis veterumque norma.privatus illis census erat brevis,commune magnum: nulla decempedismetata privatis opacamporticus excipiebat arctonnec fortuitum spernere caespitemleges sinebant, oppida publicosumptu iubentes et deorumtempla novo decorare saxo.Otium divos rogat in patentiprensus Aegaeo, simul atra nubescondidit lunam neque certa fulgentsidera nautis,otium bello furiosa Thrace,otium Medi pharetra decori,Grosphe, non gemmis neque purpura ve-nale nec auro.non enim gazae neque consularissubmovet lictor miseros tumultusmentis et curas laqueata circumtecta volantisvivitur parvo bene cui paternumsplendet in mensa tenui salinumnec levis somnos timor aut cupidosordidus aufert.quid brevi fortes iaculamur aevomulta? quid terras alio calentissole mutamus? patriae quis exsulse quoque fugit?scandit aeratas vitiosa navisCura nec turmas equitum relinquitocior cervis et agente nimbosocior Euro.laetus in praesens animus quod ultra estoderit curare et amara lentotemperet risu: nihil est ab omniparte beatum.abstulit clarum cita mors Achillem,longa Tithonum minuit senectuset mihi forsan tibi quod negaritporriget hora.te greges centum Siculaeque circummugiunt vaccae, tibi tollit hinnitumapta quadrigis equa, te bis Afromurice tinctaevestiunt lanae: mihi parva rura etspiritum Graiae tenuem CamenaeParca non mendax dedit et malignumspernere volgus.Cur me querelis exanimas tuis?nec dis amicum est nec mihi te priusobire, Maecenas, mearumgrande decus columenque rerum.a, te meae si partem animae rapitmaturior vis, quid moror altera,nec carus aeque nec superstesinteger? ille dies utramqueducet ruinam. non ego perfidumdixi sacramentum ibimus, ibimus,utcumque praecedes, supremumcarpere iter comites parati.me nec Chimaerae spiritus igneaenec si resurgat centimanus Gyasdivellet umquam: sic potentiIustitiae placitumque Parcis.seu Libra seu me Scorpios adspicitformidolosus pars violentiornatalis horae seu tyrannusHesperiae Capricornus undae:utrumque nostrum incredibili modoconsentit astrum; te Iovis inpiotutela Saturno refulgenseripuit volucrisque Fatitardavit alas, cum populus frequenslaetum theatris ter crepuit sonum;me truncus inlapsus cerebro,sustulerat, nisi Faunus ictumdextra levasset, Mercurialiumcustos virorum. reddere victimasaedemque votivam memento;nos humilem feriemus agnam.Non ebur neque aureummea renidet in domo lacunar,non trabes Hymettiaepremunt columnas ultima recisasAfrica neque Attaliignotus heres regiam occupavinec Laconicas mihitrahunt honestae purpuras clientae.at fides et ingenibenigna vena est pauperemque divesme petit: nihil supradeos lacesso nec potentem amicumlargiora flagito,satis beatus unicis Sabinis.truditur dies dienovaeque pergunt interire lunae:tu secanda marmoralocas sub ipsum funus et sepulcriinmemor struis domosmarisque Bais obstrepentis urgessubmovere litora,parum locuples continente ripa;quid quod usque proximosrevellis agri terminos et ultralimites clientiumsalis avarus? pellitur paternosin sinu ferens deoset uxor et vir sordidosque natos.nulla certior tamenrapacis Orci fine destinataaula divitem maneterum. quid ultra tendis? aequa telluspauperi recluditurregumque pueris nec satelles Orcicallidum Promethearevexit auro captus; hic superbumTantalum atque Tantaligenus coercet, hic levare functumpauperem laboribusvocatus atque non vocatus audit.Bacchum in remotis carmina rupibusvidi docentem, credite posteri,Nymphasque discentis et auriscapripedum Satyrorum acutaseuhoe, recenti mens trepidat metu,plenoque Bacchi pectore turbidumlaetatur. euhoe, parce Liber,parce gravi metuende thyrso.fas pervicacis est mihi Thyiadasvinique fontem lactis et uberescantare rivos atque truncislapsa cavis iterare mella;fas et beatae coniugis additumstellis honorem tectaque Pentheidisiecta non leni ruinaThracis et exitium Lycurgitu flectis amnis, tu mare barbarum,tu separatis uvidus in iugisnodo coerces viperinoBistonidum sine fraude crinis.tu, cum parentis regna per arduumcohors gigantum scanderet inpia,Rhoetum retorsisti leonisunguibus horribilique mala;quamquam choreis aptior et iocisludoque dictus non sat idoneuspugnae ferebaris; sed idempacis eras mediusque belli.te vidit insons Cerberus aureocornu decorum leniter atterenscaudam et recedentis trilinguiore pedes tetigitque crura.Non usitata nec tenui ferarpenna biformis per liquidum aetheravates neque in terris moraborlongius invidiaque maiorurbis relinquam. non ego, pauperumsanguis parentum, non ego, quem vocas.dilecte Maecenas, obibonec Stygia cohibebor unda.iam iam residunt cruribus asperaepelles et album mutor in alitemsuperne nascunturque levesper digitos umerosque plumae.iam Daedaleo notior Icarovisam gementis litora BosporiSyrtisque Gaetulas canorusales Hyperboreosque campos.me Colchus et qui dissimulat metumMarsae cohortis Dacus et ultiminoscent Geloni, me peritusdiscet Hiber Rhodanique potor.absint inani funere neniaeluctusque turpes et querimoniae;conpesce clamorem ac sepulcrimitte supervacuos honores.