Odes 1.26 (Creech): Musis Amicus

I, I, the Muses merry Friend
Deliver all my busie Cares
Unto the wanton Wind;
What Tyrant of the North
Leads dreadful Armies forth
Secure alone, and laugh at others fears.

Sweet Muse that dost delight to sing
In strains to Roman Ears unknown,
And tast the Virgin spring;
Trace o're the shady Bowers,
And gather sweetest flowers;
And wreath my Lamia, wreath a noble Crown.

What Honors I without thy Aid
Bestow to grace my Friends, are vain;
My Crowns will quickly fade:
You, Muse, and all the Nine should raise
In new Alcaïcks Lamia's praise,
And make him live in an unusual strain.