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TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE, ETC.

79

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PARCIUS junctas quatiunt fenestras
Ictibus crebris juvenes protervi,
Nec tibi somnos adimunt; amatque

Janua limen,
Quae prius multum facilis movebat
Cardines. Audis minus et minus jam :
Me tuo longas pereunte noctes,

Lydia, dormis ?
Invicem moechos anus arrogantes
Flebis in solo levis angiportu,
Thracio bacchante magis sub inter-

lunia vento;
Cum tibi flagrans amor, et libido,
Quae solet matres furiare equorum,
Saeviet circa jecur ulcerosum

Non sine questu,
Laeta quod pubes hedera virente
Gaudeat pulla magis atque myrto,
Aridas frondes Hiemis sodali

Dedicet Hebro.

81

TO LYDIA.

LESS often now the wanton youths
Thy close-barred shutters shake
With frequent blows; nor do they now
Thy lonely slumbers break.
The door which used, in former times,
On ready hinge to swing
Is now close shut, and, seldom used
Doth to its threshold cling.
Less often and less often now
Comes to your ear the cry,
“Sleep'st thou all night, while here outside
I perish and I die?"
Your turn shall come when, old and foul,
For lovers you shall seek,
In lonely lanes where Thracian winds
Sweep by with louder shriek.
When wanton love and burning lust
Your wretched heart shall hold,
And you, complaining, seek in vain
For lovers as of old,
To find, alas ! that joyous youth
In ivy takes delight,
Or thinks the myrtle's darker green
More pleasant to the sight
Than withered leaves, that, dull and dead
(Though fair they once might be),
Are tossed for Hebrus’ icy stream
To carry to the sea.

1

CARM. 1. XXXII.

AD LYRAM.

POSCIMUR. Si quid vacui sub umbra
Lusimus tecum, quod et hunc in annum
Vivat et plures, age; dic Latinum,

Barbite, carmen,
Lesbio primum modulate civi;
Qui, ferox bello, tamen inter arma,
Sive jactatam rcligarat udo

Litore navim,
Liberum et Musas, Veneremque, et illi
Semper haerentem puerum canebat,
Et Lycum, nigris oculis nigroque

Crine decorum.
O decus Phoebi, et dapibus supremi
Grat.i testudo Jovis, o laborum
Dulce lenimen, mihi cunque salve

Rite vocanti.

TO HIS LYRE.

THEY call us. If beneath the shade
We've sung a song with thee
Which both the end of this year's course
And other years may see,
Come, sing a Latin song, my lyre,
Whom Lesbius tuned before ;
(Who fierce in war, yet in war's midst,
Or when his bark touched shore,
Would sing of Bacchus and the Nine,
Of Venus and her boy, –

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