ODE LXVIII.
Now Neptune's month our sky deforms,
The angry night-cloud teems with storms;
And savage winds, infuriate driven,
Fly howling in the face of heaven!
Now, now, my friends, the gathering gloom
With roseate rays of wine illume:
And while our wreaths of parsley spread
Their fadeless foliage round our head,
Let's hymn the almighty power of wine,
And shed libations on his shrine!
ODE LXIX.
They wove the lotus band to deck
And fan with pensile wreath each neck;
And every guest, to shade his head,
Three little fragrant chaplets spread;[1]
And one was of the Egyptian leaf,
The rest were roses, fair and brief:
While from a golden vase profound,
To all on flowery beds around,
A Hebe, of celestial shape,
Poured the rich droppings of the grape!
[1] Longepierre, to give an idea of the luxurious estimation in which
garlands were held by the ancients, relates an anecdote of a courtezan,
who, in order to gratify three lovers, without leaving cause for Jealousy
with any of them, gave a kiss to one, let the other drink after her, and
put a garland on the brow of the third; so that each was satisfied with
his favor, and flattered himself with the preference.
ODE LXX.
A broken cake, with honey sweet,
Is all my spare and simple treat:
And while a generous bowl I crown
To float my little banquet down,
I take the soft, the amorous lyre,
And sing of love's delicious fire:
In mirthful measures warm and free,
I sing, dear maid, and sing for thee!
ODE LXXI.
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