Shorter Poems 47: On a Gift to a Horse

Happy steed, whose good fortune it is to obey the directing hand of a god and to be guided by a sacred bit. Whether on the plains of Spain the wind tossed thy mane in sport, or thou didst bathe in the melted snows of Mount Argaeus, in some fertile valley of Cappadocia, or thou didst scour the rich pasture-lands of Thessaly in wind-swift course, receive this royal harness and, tossing thy proud mane, fleck with foam the bridle studded with emeralds. Arch thy haughty neck beneath its collar of pearls; let cloth of purple and gold clothe thy shoulders and a belt of many colours worked by Serena’s chaste hands pass beneath thy belly. ’Tis an ornament worthy the kings of Persia. Such is her motherly love that to enhance her son-in-law’s glory she disdains not to embroider the very harness of his horses.