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(From Odes)
Translated by R. M. Hovenden
SEE, Thaliarch, how deep in snow | |
| Soracte stands, the laboring woods | |
| Bend with their load, and wintry floods, | |
| Benumbed with frost, forget to flow. | |
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| Heap log on log the spell to thaw: | 5 |
| Shall winter’s frown our banquet mar? | |
| Or from thy raciest Sabine jar | |
| Brimful the generous magnum draw. | |
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| Commit the rest to Jove’s high hand: | |
| At the first bidding of his will | 10 |
| The wave and brawling wind are still, | |
| Erect the ash and cypress stand. | |
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| Why, curious, turn the morrow’s page? | |
| Set down as gain whatever chance | |
| The day affords; enjoy the dance, | 15 |
| Make love; full soon will peevish age | |
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| Put such toys by. Now let us go | |
| Where open square and public walk | |
| Buzz all around with whispered talk | |
| And sighs at nightfall breathing low: | 20 |
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| Thence track the scarce reluctant maid | |
| By laughter to her form, and snatch | |
| From arm or hand the ring to match, | |
| Whereon sweet forfeit must be paid. | |
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