Odes 1.6 (Gladstone): Scriberis Vario

Let Varius, bird of Homer's wing,
Thy might, thy feats, Agrippa, sing,
Each deed achieved by Roman hand,
When led by thee, on flood or land.

Achilles and his stubborn mood,
Or Pelops with that savage brood,
Or dark Ulysses o'er the sea
To track, is not for such as me.

Small themes, small men. My blush, the Muse
That sways the lyre of peace, refuse
Thy praise, and noble Caesar's fame,
For scant of worthy gift, to maim.

Diomed, by Pallas taught to thrust
At gods, or Merion black with dust
Of Troy, or Mars in coat of mail
To sing aright what bards avail?

No: me the feast, the war employs
Of maids (their nails well dipt) with boys;
Me fancy-free; or, something warm,
My playful use does no one harm,