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LIBER II. CARMEN III.

Aequam memento rebus in arduis Servare mentem, non secus in bonis Ab insolenti temperatam

Laetitia, moriture Delli,

Seu maestus omni tempore vixeris,
Seu te in remoto gramine per dies
Festos reclinatum bearis

Interiore nota Falerni.

Quo pinus ingens albaque populus Umbram hospitalem consociare aman Ramis? Quid obliquo laborat Lympha fugax trepidare rivo?

THE SPIRIT AND THE MUSE.

309

Bring hither unguents, wines, the rose
Fair flower that all too short-lived blows-
While circumstance, and age permit,
And the black threads, the Sisters* slit.
Thou'lt quit thy purchased parks, and home,
And seat on Tiber's yellow foam ;
Aye, quit, and all that earthly hoard,
Thou hast piled up high, an heir shall lord !
It boots not whether rich thou be,
Of Inachus' ancient pedigree,
Or poor, of lowest family-
A little while beneath the sun,
Then Orcus' victim pitying none !
All to the self-same bourn must go,
The urn is shaken for all below,
And soon or late comes forth the lot,
And we must step aboard the Boat
For banishment that endeth not.

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Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears,
And slits the thin-spun life.'

LIBER II. CARMEN IV.

Ne sit ancillae tibi amor pudori,
Xanthia Phoceu, prius insolentem
Serva Briseis niveo colore

Movit Achillem ;

Movit Aiacem Telamone natum

Forma captivae dominum Tecmessae ; Arsit Atrides medio in triumpho Virgine rapta,

Barbarae postquam cecidere turmae Thessalo victore et ademptus Hector Tradidit fessis leviora tolli

Pergama Grais.

BOOK II. ODE IV.

Let not to love a handmaid be,
O Xanthias, a shame to thee;
The slave Briseis, fair as snow,
Achilles moved, unwont to woo!

Tecmessa's beauty captive led
Moved Ajax, lord, of Telamon bred!
Atrides in mid triumph stayed,

Fired with the love of ravished maid;

After that the barbaric horde
Fell to Thessalia's conquering sword,
And Hector slain left the worn foe
Troy's bulwarks easier to o'erthrow!

Nescias an te generum beati

Phyllidis flavae decorent parentes : Regium certe genus et penatis Maeret iniquos.

Crede non illam tibi de scelesta
Plebe dilectam, neque sic fidelem
Sic lucro aversam potuisse nasci
Matre pudenda.

Bracchia et vultum teretisque suras
Integer laudo fuge suspicari
Cuius octavum trepidavit aetas

Claudere lustrum.

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