Page:Odes and Carmen Saeculare.djvu/166

 And pleasure Him who tends the flocks and groves Of dark-leaved Arcady. It is a thirsty season, Virgil mine; But would you taste the grape's Calenian juice, Client of noble youths, to earn your wine Some nard you must produce. A tiny box of nard shall bring to light The cask that in Sulpician cellar lies: O, it can give new hopes, so fresh and bright, And gladden gloomy eyes. You take the bait? then come without delay And bring your ware: be sure, 'tis not my plan To let you drain my liquor and not pay, As might some wealthy man. Come, quit those covetous thoughts, those knitted brows, Think on the last black embers, while you may, And be for once unwise. When time allows, 'Tis sweet the fool to play.

HE gods have heard, the gods have heard my prayer; Yes, Lyce! you are growing old, and still You struggle to look fair; You drink, and dance, and trill