Odes 1.27 (Creech): Natis In Usum

AMidst our Cups for mirth design'd
To fight and quarrel, suits
Rough Thracian Brutes;
But not the sober temper of a Friend.

This Savage Humor, Sirs, forbear,
And free the modest God
From brawls and blood;
And let your Humor, as your Wine, be clear.

How Cups and Swords do disagree!
Then give your fighting o're,
And brawl no more;
But sit, and keep your Elbows down like me.

If you will have the glass go round,
Then tell from what fair Eys
The Arrow flies;
What Beauty makes Thee Happy in a wound.

Not tell! nay then the Glass remove,
What ever Charms ensnare
Thy Heart, are fair;
You never sin in a dishonest Love.

Tell boldly, tell thy generous flame,
This is no leaky Ear;
Nor what I hear
Shall my loose Tongue pour out to common fame.

Unhappy Youth! doth She surprize?
And have her Flames possess't
Thy burning Breast?
Thou didst deserve a dart from kinder Eyes.

Undone! for no Thessalian Charms
Nor e'en the winged Horse
Can break her force,
And free Thee from this strange Chimera's Arms.