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Nil desperandum Teucro duce, et auspice Teucro:

Certus enim promisit Apollo,

Ambiguam tellure nova Salamina futuram.

O fortes, pejoraque passi

Mecum saepe viri, nunc vino pellite curas;

Cras ingens iterabimus aequor.

VIII. AD LYDIAM.

LYDIA, dic, per omnes
Te deos oro, Sybarin cur properas amando

Perdere; cur apricum
Oderit campum, patiens pulveris atque solis ?

Cur neque militaris
Inter aequales equitat, Gallica nec lupatis

Temperat ora frenis ?
Cur timet flavum Tiberim tangere? Cur olivum

Sanguine. viperino
Cautius vitat? neque jam livida gestat armis

He, once full oft renowned
For quoit or dart despatched beyond the bound !
Why hides he, as they say
Did marine Thetis' son near Troy's sad day
Of doom, whom male attire
Would force on Lycian hosts and carnage dire ?

An adaptation of a drinking song by Alcaeus, a fragment of which

has been preserved by Athenaeus.

SEEST thou how whitened with deep-lying snow
Soracte stands ? and how the forests bow,
Straining beneath the weight? and how the force
Of piercing frost stays rivers in their course?
Heap logs upon the fire, to thaw the cold;
Heap freely; and of wine, the four-year old,
Be liberal, O Thaliarch, and produce
A two-eared Sabine flagon of the juice.
The rest leave to the gods, at whose decree
The winds that battled with the foaming sea
Were at the instant hushed, and motionless
Are the old ash-trees now, and cypresses.
From asking what to-morrow brings, refrain ;
What day soe'er thy lot may give, as gain
Account; and look not, boy, askance
On sweet amours, nor on the circling dance.
As long as from thy strength morose old age
Still stands aloof, in martial sports engage,

Brachia, saepe disco,
Saepe trans finem jaculo nobilis expedito?

Quid latet, ut marinae
Filium dicunt Thetidis sub lacrimosa Trojae

Funera, ne virilis
Cultus in caedem et Lycias proriperet catervas?

IX. AD THALIARCHUM.

VIDES, ut alta stet nive candidum
Soracte, nec jam sustineant onus
Silvae laborantes, geluque

Flumina constiterint acuto ?
Dissolve frigus, ligna super foco
Large reponens; atque benignius
Deprome quadrimum Sabina,

O Thaliarche, merum diota.
Permitte divis cetera : qui simul
Stravere ventos aequore fervido
Deproeliantes, nec cupressi,

Nec veteres agitantur orni.
Quid sit futurum cras, fuge quaerere : et
Quem sors dierum cunque dabit, lucro
Appone: nec dulces amores

Sperne puer, neque tu choreas,
Donec virenti canities abest
Morosa. Nunc et campus, et areae,

And let soft whispers, oftentimes, at night
In the still hours, thy whisperings requite,
When welcome laughter from her inner lair
Has told thee of the hoyden hiding there,
And fondling arms of love-pledge are divested
From fingers, that but feign to hold it, wrested

This also is supposed to be an imitation of a poem of Alcaeus.

MERCURY, grandson eloquent of Atlas,
Who the rude ways didst of mankind primeval
Skilfully form, instructing them in speech and

Graces palaestric;

Thee will I sing, of mighty Jove the legate,
And of all gods; thee the curved lyre's inventor,
Cunning to hide whatsoe'er take thy fancy,

Sportively stealing.

Thee, a boy yet, while harsh in tone he threatened, Shouldest thou not bring back his stolen oxen, Robbed of his quiver also, into laughter

Softened Apollo. 'Twas with thee guiding him that wealthy Priam Fleeing from Troy, the haughty sons of Atreus Duped, and the Phthian watch, and foes encamped round

Ilium's rampart.

Lenesque sub noctem susurri

Composita repetantur hora; Nunc et latentis proditor intimo Gratus puellae risus ab angulo, Pignusque dereptum lacertis,

Aut digito male pertinaci.

X. AD MERCURIUM.

MERCURI, facunde nepos Atlantis,
Qui feros cultus hominum recentúm
Voce formâsti catus, et decorae

More palaestrae :

Te canam, magni Jovis et deorum
Nuntium, curvaeque lyrae parentem ;
Callidum, quidquid placuit, jocoso

Condere furto.

Te boves olim nisi reddidisses
Per dolum amotas, puerum minaci
Voce dum terret, viduus pharetra

Risit Apollo.

Quin et Atridas, duce te, superbos,
Ilio dives Priamus relicto,
Thessalosque ignes, et iniqua Trojae

Castra fefellit.

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