Page:Odes and Carmen Saeculare.djvu/77

 Heaven's favourite, sooth, for thrice a-year
 * He comes and goes across the brine

Undamaged. I in plenty here
 * On endives, mallows, succory dine.

O grant me, Phœbus, calm content,
 * Strength unimpair'd, a mind entire,

Old age without dishonour spent,
 * Nor unbefriended by the lyre!

HEY call;—if aught in shady dell We twain have warbled, to remain Long months or years, now breathe, my shell, A Roman strain, Thou, strung by Lesbos' minstrel hand, The bard, who 'mid the clash of steel, Or haply mooring to the strand His batter'd keel, Of Bacchus and the Muses sung, And Cupid, still at Venus' side, And Lycus, beautiful and young, Dark-hair'd, dark-eyed. O sweetest lyre, to Phœbus dear, Delight of Jove's high festival, Blest balm in trouble, hail and hear Whene'er I call!