Odes 1.25 (Creech): Parcius Iunctas

HA, Ha! Thy Trade at last is done,
And all thy wanton Lovers gone!
No sighing Youths attend thy State,
There's no such rattling at thy dore
As Heretofore;
And now thy Threshold loves thy quiet Gate.

Now you may rest secure from noise,
And sadly dream of former joys;
You seldom hear despairing Sighs,
My Lydia rests in soft delight
All the long night,
Whil'st here her faithful Lover pines, and dyes.

Now, now 'tis thine, thy turn to moan
The haughty wantons all alone:
Now to a shady Grove retire,
Whilst Winds as cold as thy dull Age
Do fiercely rage
And cool the poor remainders of thy fire.

When Lust as fierce as Mares desires
Thy ulcerous Heart and Liver fires,
Then Thou shalt mourn, but mourn in vain,
That wanton Youth seeks blooming Charms,
And greener arms;
Whilst longing Age still meets with cold disdain.

Then thou shalt think on sweets before,
And dye at the despairing thought, No more.