Horace, Odes III.29

Mecaenas, (sprung from Tuscan Kings) for thee
Milde Wine in vessels neuer toucht, I keepe
Here Roses, and sweete odours be,
Vuhose dew thy haire shall steepe:

O stay not, let moyst Tibur be disdain'd,
And Aesulaes declining fields, and hills,
Vuhere once Telegonus remain'd,
Vuhose hand his father kills;

Forsake that height where lothsome plenty cloyes,
And towres, which to the lofty clouds aspire,
The smoke of Rome her wealth and noyse
Thou wilt not here admire.

In pleasing change, the rich man takes delight,
And frugall meales in homely seates allowes,
Where hangings want, and purple bright
He cleares his carefull browe[.].

Now Cepheus plainely shewes his hidden fire,
The Dog-starre now his furious heate displayes,
The Lion spreads his raging ire,
The Sunne brings parching dayes.

[.]he Shepheard now his sickly slocke restores,
With shades, and Riuers, and the Thickets finds
Of rough Siluanus, silent shores
Are free from playing winds.

To keepe the State in order is thy care,
Sollicitous for Rome, thou fear'st the warres,
Which barbrous Easterne troopes prepare,
And Tanais vs'd to iarres.

The wise Creator from our knowledge hides
The end of future times in darksome night;
False thoughts of mortals he derides,
When them vaine toyes affright.

With mindfull temper present houres compose,
The rest are like a Riuer, which with ease,
Sometimes within his channell slowes,
Into Etrurian Seas.

Oft stones, trees, flocks, and houses it deuoures,
Vuith Echoes from the hills, and neighb'ring woods,
Vuhen some fierce deluge, rais'd by showres,
Turnes quiet Brookes to Floods.

He master of himselfe, in mirth may liue,
Vuho saith, I rest well pleas'd with former dayes,
Let God from heau'n to morrow giue
Blacke clouds, or Sunny rayes.

No force can make that voide, which once is past,
Those things are neuer alter'd, or vndone,
Vuhich from the instant rolling fast,
Vuith flying moments run.

Proud Fortune ioyfull sad affaires to finde,
Insulting in her sport, delights to change
Vncertaine honours: quickly kinde,
And straight againe as strange.

I prayse her stay, but if she stirre her wings,
Her gifts I leaue, and to my selfe retire,
Vurapt in my vertue: honest things
In want no dowre require.

Vuhen Lybian stormes, the mast in pieces shake,
I neuer God with pray'rs, and vowes implore,
Lest precious wares addition make
To greedy Neptunes store.

Then I contented, with a little bote,
Am through Aegean waues, by winds conuay'd,
Vuhere Pollux makes me safely flote,
And Castors friendly aide.