Odes 1.29 (Creech): Icci, Beatis

YOu envy, Iccius, the Arabian's store,
Their pretious Gums, and Ivory beds,
And art resolv'd for War;
For fierce Sabean Kings ne're fought before,
And dreadful Medes
Your scourges knit, and Roman Chains prepare.

What lovely Virgin when her Lover's kill'd
Shall wait on Thee, and call Thee Lord?
What perfum'd Royal Boy
To shoot in's Fathers Bow exactly skill'd,
Attend thy board;
And serve Thy pleasure in another joy?

Who now dares say that streams must flow
From Mountains tops to Vales below,
And not to th' Springs return?
Or who deny but Tyber's wondrous stream
May Hills contemn,
And swiftly roul back to his lofty Urn?

When You can change for Shield, and Sword, and Dart,
And the base Drudgery of Wars,
What e're contentment brings
Panoetus Works, thy costly Books of Art
And Plato's cares;
Tho once I'me sure You promis'd better things.