Ode LXXII: O Ka'b ! would that thou

O Ka'b ! would that thou wouldst restrain thyself to good wine-fellowship, and cease to give offence to thy company,

And be content to listen to the singing-girl who delights us on a cloudy day, so that we go home to rest [well pleased,] as Persian kings are lulled to sleep !

Then wouldst thou be sober [, not drunken as thou art now]. But the man of Namir thinks her [nothing short of] the uncle of Spica Virginis, or the aunt of the Pleiades.

Hold back Ka'b, now that she has given him a buffet on the forehead with a plump wrist !

On his brow are streaks of blood, caked and dry, as the fingers of him that gathers grapes are dyed purple. -

Nay, the wine is not thy brother : sometimes it betrays him that trusts too much to his self-command,

And tempts him with foolish counsel, what time the gust of its intoxication rises to the brain.

I am a man of the house of Murrah : if I wound you [with my satire], ye will not be able to stanch the wound.