Odes 2.6 (Creech): Septimi, Gades

SEptimius that wouldst stem the Main,
And go with me to distant Spain;
To fierce Cantabrians never broak,
As yet unlearn'd to bear our Yoke:
And Syrtes Sands, where th' Ocean roars,
And rowling Waves wash swarthy Moors;
May Tibur's Walls the Tuscan Seat
Afford my Age a safe retreat,
Oh! there, now tir'd with Wars and Seas,
May I enjoy a happy Ease!
If Fate denies this small Desire,
My hasty steps shall soon retire
Where smooth Galesus cuts his way;
Around whose Banks, white Fleeces play
And felt Phalantus easy sway:
Oh how those little Plains do please,
how fit for Happiness and Ease!
Where Honey fills the Combs, and strives
With fair Hymettu's sweetest Hives:
Where Olives from the fruitful Soil,
Nor yield to the Venafrian Oyl:
Where Springs are long, and Winters mild,
Nor hoary Frost deforms the Field;
Where Bacchus friendly Mountains spread,
And Almon rears his fruitful Head;
Where choicest Grapes in Clusters twine,
Nor envy the Falernian Vine:
These happy Seats must us receive,
There you and I, dear Friend, must live,
Till Death's approaching hands surprize,
And close thy Poet Horace Eyes;
Then you a little Tomb shall rear,
And cool my Ashes with a Pious tear: