Were sweeter lute than Orpheus given To thee, did trees thy voice obey; The blood revisits not the clay Which He, with lifted wand, hath driven Into his dark assemblage, who Unlocks not fate to mortal's prayer. Hard lot! Yet light their griefs who BEAR The ills which they may not undo. TO THE FOUNTAIN OF BANDUSIA. OD, iii. 13. BANDUSIA, stainless mirror of the sky! Thine is the flower-crown'd bowl, for thee shall die, When dawns yon sun, the kid; Whose horns, half-seen, half-hid, Challenge to dalliance or to strife-in vain! Soon must the darling of the herd be slain, And those cold springs of thine With blood incarnadine. Fierce glows the Dog-star, but his fiery beam Toucheth not thee: still grateful thy cool stream To labour-wearied ox, Or wanderer from the flocks: And henceforth thou shalt be a royal fountain : My harp shall tell how from yon cavernous mountain, Topt by the brown oak-tree, Thou breakest babblingly. TO IBYCUS'S WIFE. OD. ii. 15. SPOUSE of penniless Ibycus, Thus late, bring to a close all thy delinquencies, All thy studious infamy: Nearing swiftly the grave-(that not an early one) Cease girls' sport to participate, Blurring stars which were else cloudlessly brilliant. What suits her who is beautiful Suits not equally thee: rightly devastates Thy fair daughter the homes of men, Wild as Thyad, who wakes stirred by the kettle drums. Nothus' beauty constraining her, Like some kid at his play, holds she her revelry: |