S'

ODE IX.

TO THALIARCHUS.

EE how, all white, Soracte deep in snow

Stands out; nor can the labouring woods sustain

The weight; the rivers too no longer flow,

Bound by the sharp frost's icy chain.
Logs on thy hearth to drive away the cold
Heap plentifully; and more freely still
Draw wine, O Thaliarchus, four years old
From Sabine jar thy cup to fill:

The rest leave to the Gods, who, when they quell
The winds fierce battling with the boiling sea,
The cypress and old ash quick feel the spell,
And agitated cease to be.

What shall to-morrow be, ask not to know,

And count each day that chance shall give as gain : Nor, youthful still, the graceful dance forego;

Nor love's delicious sweets disdain,

While spared thy strength by white old age and sour.
'Tis now the time the Field and Mall t' enjoy,
And when the night arrives th' appointed hour
In gentle whispers to employ.

Now too, her pleasant laugh the girl betrays
In secret corner hid; and steals her swain
The pledge, on arm or finger she displays
Faint struggle only to retain.

M

ODE X.

AD MERCURIUM.

ERCURI, facunde nepos Atlantis,

Qui feros cultus hominum recentûm

Voce formâsti catus, et decoræ

More palæstræ ;

Te canam, magni Jovis et Deorum
Nuntium, curvæque lyræ parentem;
Callidum quicquid placuit jocoso

Condere furto.

Te, boves olim nisi reddidisses
Per dolum amotas, puerum minaci
Voce dum terret, viduus pharetrâ

Risit Apollo.

Quin et Atridas, duce te, superbos,
Ilio dives Priamus relicto,

Thessalosque ignes, et iniqua Troja
Castra fefellit.

Tu pias lætis animas reponis

Sedibus; virgâque levem coerces

Aureâ turbam, superis Deorum

Gratus et imis.

O

ODE X.

TO MERCURY.

MERCURY, the grandson eloquent

Of Atlas, who, the manners fierce to tame
Of recent man, did'st forms of speech invent
And the Palæstra frame:

Thee, herald of the Gods and mighty Jove,
The curved lyre's first contriver, will I sing;
Skilful to hide whate'er thou dost remove
In sportive pilfering.

While he, his oxen filch'd thy cunning through,
Unless restored, thee, yet a boy, would fright
With threatening voice, his quiver missing too,
Apollo laugh'd outright.

Rich Priam, quitting Troy, with thee for guide,

The proud Atrida and the Greek watch-fire
Pass'd unobserved, and through the encampment wide
Of Ilium's foemen dire.

Thou pious souls in blissful seats dost place;
And the light crowd with golden rod restrain,
Dear to the Gods who rule in upper space
And those below that reign,

ODE XI.

AD LEUCONOEN.

`U ne quæsieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi Finem Di dederint, Leuconoë; nec Babylonios Tentâris numeros. Ut melius, quicquid erit, pati! Seu plures hyemes, seu tribuit Jupiter ultimam, Quæ nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare Tyrrhenum. Sapias; vina liques, et spatio brevi Spem longam resecęs: dum loquimur, fugerit invida Ætas: carpe diem, quam minimùm credula postero.

ODE XI.

A

TO LEUCONOE.

SK not, 'tis wrong, what end for thee or me The Gods may have ordain'd, Leuconoe; Nor try the numbers Babylonian:

"Tis better to submit, does Jove life's span

Give many winters, or does now the last

Against th' opposing rocks, with stormy blast,
Shatter the Tyrrhene Sea. Be wise, wine strain,

And, time being short, from lengthen'd hope refrain:
E'en while we talk the envious moments speed:
Enjoy to-day, to-morrow little heed.