Epodes 9 (Creech): Quando Repostum

WHen will the happy morning come,
And bring the welcom News to Rome,
That I, my Lord, with you may Dine,
And in your stately House
Full Bowls carouse,
Preserv'd for this expected Joy, of racy Wine!

Where Pipes shall joyn the speaking string,
And tuneful Voices gladly sing,
As you, my Lord, and I have done;
When Pompy turn'd his Head
And basely fled
Confessing Caesar's Fortune greater than his own:

His flaming Ships blaz'd o're the Wave;
Whilst flying by the light they gave,
He left those Chains which faithless He
Had loos'd from servile Hands,
And threatned Bands
To happy Rome, by Caesar's Will, and Nature free:

A Roman (who will credit give
What future Age this truth receive?)
Turn'd Woman's Slave with servile Hands
A Common Souldier bears
The drudgery of Wars,
And can endure her wither'd Eunuchs base Commands:

Amidst the Arms, dishonest sight!
The Sun that view'd withdrew the Light,
As once at curst Thyestes Feast;
As 'twere asham'd to see
The Canopy
And the great Roman lolling on a Woman's Breast.

Io Triumphe, break delay,
Why doth the golden Chariot stay?
And not the promis'd Oxen fall?
Io Triumphe bring
The greatest King,
The Common good, the comfort, and the joy of All:

Jugurtha's Wars, and Noble Toyls
Ne're show'd his Equal grac'd with Spoyls;
Nor Conquer'd Africk sent to Rome,
Altho his lasting Name
Is great in Fame,
And ruin'd Carthage lies to make his noble Tomb:

Where will the conquer'd Roman fly
From Caesar's Hand, and Caesar's Eye?
What will the Conquer'd Roman do?
What Winds, what servile Gales
Will swell his Sails,
That on his Master Caesar's may so freely blow?

More Bowls and larger Bowls my Boy,
As large as my extensive joy,
Let Mirth advance my good design;
'Tis sweet to ease my Cares
For Caesar's Wars,
And drown all Melancholly thoughts in noble Wine.