r; nor do biting cares disperse any
otherwise [than by the use of wine]. Who, after wine, complains of the
hardships of war or of poverty? Who does not rather [celebrate] thee,
Father Bacchus, and thee, comely Venus? Nevertheless, the battle of the
Centaurs with the Lapithae, which was fought in their cups, admonishes
us not to exceed a moderate use of the gifts of Bacchus. And Bacchus
himself admonishes us in his severity to the Thracians; when greedy to
satisfy their lusts, they make little distinction between right and
wrong. O beauteous Bacchus, I will not rouse thee against thy will, nor
will I hurry abroad thy [mysteries, which are] covered with various
leaves. Cease your dire cymbals, together with your Phrygian horn, whose
followers are blind Self-love and Arrogance, holding up too high her
empty head, and the Faith communicative of secrets, and more transparent
than glass.

* * * * *

ODE XIX.

TO GLYCERA.

The cruel mother of the Cupids, and the son of the Theban Gemele, and
lascivious ease, command me to give back my mind to its deserted loves.
The splendor of Glycera, shining brighter than the Parian marble,
inflames me: her agreeable petulance, and her countenance, too unsteady
to be beheld, inflame me. Venus, rushing on me with her whole force, has
quitted Cyprus; and suffers me not to sing of the Scythians, and the
Parthian, furious when his horse is turned for flight, or any subject
which is not to the present purpose. Here, slaves, place me a live turf;
here, place me vervains and frankincense, with a flagon of two-year-old
wine. She will approach more propitious, after a victim has been
sacrificed.

* * * * *

ODE XX.

TO MAECENAS.

My dear knight Maecenas, you shall drink [at my house] ignoble Sabine
wine in sober cups, which I myself sealed up in the Grecian cask, stored
at the time, when so loud an applause was given to you in the
amphitheatre, that the banks of your ancestral river, together with the
cheerful echo of the Vatican mountain, returned your praises. You [when
you are at home] will drink the Caecuban, and the grape which is
squeezed in the Calenian press; but neither the Falernian vines, nor the
Formian hills, season my cups.

* * * * *

ODE XXI.

ON DIANA AND APOLLO.

Ye tender virgins, sing Diana; ye boys, sing Apollo with his unshorn
hair, and Latona passion