ODE XXV.

AD LYDIAM.

PARC

ARCIUS junctas quatiunt fenestras Ictibus crebris juvenes protervi, Nec tibi somnos adimunt; amatque Janua limen,

Quæ priùs multùm faciles movebat Cardines. Audis minùs et minùs jam : "Me tuo longas pereunte noctes,

Lydia, dormis?"

Invicem mochos anus arrogantes

Flebis, in solo levis angiportu,
Thracio bacchante magis sub inter-
lunia vento;

Cùm tibi flagrans amor, et libido,
Quæ solet matres furiare equorum,
Sæviet circa jecur ulcerosum;

Non sine questu,

Læta quòd pubes hederâ virenti
Gaudeat, pullâ magis atque myrto;

Aridas frondes hyemis sodali

Dedicet Hebro.

L

ODE XXV.

TO LYDIA.

ESS often now with blows repeated make

The wanton youths your fasten'd windows shake, And seldom you from out your slumbers wake; Its post your door loves too,

Which once its hinges moved so easily.

And less and less by you is heard the cry,
"Whilst, Lydia, I, your own, am dying, why
Sleep you the long night through ?"
Grown old, your turn it now is to lament
The scorn of rakes, as, worthless, you frequent
Some alley lone, while riots violent

'Tween moons the Thracian wind;

Then love shall you inflame; and hot desire
(Wont horses' dams to madden with its fire,)
Your ulcerous liver shall with rage inspire,
And you shall wail to find

That joyous youth in ivy's verdant store

Can pleasure take-in dark green myrtle more,

Giving to Hebrus, friend of winter hoar,

Of wither'd leaves each kind.

ODE XXVI.

LAMIAM SUUM MUSE COMMENDAT.

M

USIS amicus, tristitiam et metus Tradam protervis in mare Creticum Portare ventis; quis sub Arcto

Rex gelidæ metuatur oræ ; Quis Tiridatem terreat, unicè Securus. O quæ fontibus integris Gaudes, apricos necte flores,

Necte meo Lamiæ coronam,

Pimplea dulcis. Nil sine te mei

Prosunt honores.

Hunc fidibus novis,

Hunc Lesbio sacrare plectro,

Teque tuasque decet sorores.

F

ODE XXVI.

TO HIS MUSE.

RIEND to the Muses, fear and sorrow I The fierce winds give to bear to Creta's sea, Naught caring who beneath the Arctic sky

Of frozen lands dread king may be ; Or Tiridates who may scare. O thou, Sweet Pimplea, whom fresh fountains aye delight, Do weave a chaplet for my Lamia's brow,

For him weave flowers with sun-tints bright. My praises without thee have little weight: Him then with strains appropriate and new, Him with the Lesbian lyre to consecrate,

Becomes thee and thy sisters too.

ODE XXVII,

AB EBRIETATE ET INSANO AMORE CAVENDUM.

N

ATIS in usum lætitiæ scyphis

Pugnare, Thracum est: tollite barbarum Morem; verecundumque Bacchum

Sanguineis prohibete rixis.

Vino et lucernis Medus acinaces

Immane quantum discrepat! Impium

Lenite clamorem, sodales,

Et cubito remanete presso.— Vultis severi me quoque sumere Partem Falerni? Dicat Opuntiæ Frater Megillæ, quo beatus Vulnere, quâ pereat sagittâ.

Cessat voluntas? Non aliâ bibam

Mercede. Quæ te cunque domat Venus,
Non erubescendis adurit

Ignibus; ingenuoque semper

Amore peccas. Quicquid habes, age,

Depone tutis auribus.--Ah, miser,
Quantâ laboras in Charybdi,

Digne puer meliore flammâ !

Quæ saga, quis te solvere Thessalis
Magus venenis, quis poterit Deus?
Vix illigatum te triformi

Pegasus expediet Chimærâ.