Page images
PDF
EPUB

ODE XVIII.

TO VARUS.

LET the vine, dearest Varus, the vine be the first
Of all trees to be planted, of all to be nursed,
On thy well-shelter'd acres, round Catilus' walls,
Where the sun on the green slopes of Tivoli falls!
For to him who ne'er moistens his lip with the grape
Life's every demand wears a tèrrible shape,
And wine, and wine only has magic to scare
Despondency's gloom or the torments of care.
Who's he that, with wine's joyous fumes in his brain,
Of the travails of war, or of want will complain,
Nor rather, sire Bacchus, thy eulogies chant,
Or thine, Venus, thine, ever beautiful, vaunt?

Yet, that none may abuse the good gift, and o'erpass

The innocent mirth of a temperate glass,

A warning is set in the wine-kindled strife,
Where the Centaurs and Lapithæ grappled for life;
In the madmen of Thrace, too, a warning is set,
Who, lost in their Bacchanal frenzy, forget
The bounds that dissever the right from the wrong,
And sweep on the tide of their passions along.

Bright god of the vine, I never will share

In orgies so vile and unholy, nor tear

The clusters of various foliage away,

That keep thy blest mysteries veil'd from the day. Then clash not the cymbals, and wind not the horn, Dread sounds, of whose maddening accents are born Blind Self-love, and Vanity lifting on high

Its feather-brain'd head, as 't would strike at the sky, And Frankness, transparent as crystal, that shows In its babbling incontinence all that it knows.

ODE XIX.

TO GLYCERA.

THE ruthless mother of wild desires,
And Theban Semele's fervent son,
And wanton idlesse have kindled fires
Within me,
I dream'd I had long outrun.
I am madden'd by Glycera's beauty's blaze, -
The marble of Paros is pale beside it -
By her pretty, provoking, and petulant ways,
And face too dazzling for eye to 'bide it.

Into me rushing, hath Venus quite

--

Forsaken her Cyprus, nor lets me chant The Scyths and the Parthians, dauntless in flight, Nor aught that to Love is irrelevant. Hither, boys, turf of the freshest bring,

Vervain, and incense, and wine unstinted! The goddess less fiercely my heart shall sting, When the victim's gore hath her altar tinted.

ODE XX.

TO MECENAS.

OUR Common Sabine wine shall be
The only drink I'll give to thee,
In modest goblets too;

'T was stored in crock of Grecian delf,
Dear knight Mæcenas, by myself,
That very day, when through
The theatre thy plaudits rang,
And sportive echo caught the clang,
And answer'd from the banks
Of thine own dear paternal stream,
Whilst Vatican renew'd the theme
Of homage and of thanks!
Old Cæcuban, the very best,
And juice in vats Calenian press'd
You drink at home, I know:
My cups no choice Falernian fills,

Nor unto them do Formia's hills
Impart a temper'd glow.

ODE XXI.

IN HONOUR OF DIANA AND APOLLO.

YE tender virgins fair,

To great Diana sing,

Ye boys, to Cynthius of the unshorn hair,
Your dulcet anthems bring,

And let Latona mingle with your theme,
That dearer is than all to Jove, Heaven's lord su-
preme !

Her praises sing, ye maids,
Who doth in streams delight,

In whispering groves, and intertangled glades,
On Algidus' cool height,

Or Erymanthus with its dusky pines,

Or where with verdure bright the leafy Cragus shines.

Ye boys, in numbers meet,

Fair Tempe's praises chant,
Delos, that was Apollo's natal seat,

And loved peculiar haunt ;

Sing, too, his quiver with its golden gleams, And lyre, his brother's gift, that from his shoulder beams!

Moved by your prayers he will
Banish distressful war,

Famine, and pestilence, and their trains of ill
From our loved Rome afar,

And from great Cæsar, scattering their blight,
The Persian's pride to quell, or Britain's chainless

« PreviousContinue »