Odes 1.7 (Gladstone): Laudabunt Alii

Famed Rhodes, Apollo's Delphi, Mitylene,
Or Corinth's walls, two seas between,
Thessalian Tempe, Thebes through Bacchus known,
And Ephesus, I let alone.

In builded strains some only hymn thy town,
Chaste Pallas; and the olive crown
Adorns their temples, cropped on every hand.
For Juno's praise a goodly band

Horse-nursing Argos, rich Mycenae, name.
Me neither stubborn Sparta's fame
Nor yet Larissa's teeming plain so moves
As Anio's rush, Tiburtine groves,

Those orchards, that the nimble runnels lave
Beside Albunea's echoing cave.
Oft Notus whitens all the murky sky
And rain descends not from on high.

So in thy Tibur's deeper shade, or where
The camps with blazing signals glare,
Plancus, be wise; life's woes and toils decline,
Go, drown them all in mellow wine.

From sire and Salamis when Teucer fled,
A wreath of poplar leaves 'tis said,
Around his brow that reeks with wine he bends,
And thus exhorts his drooping friends:

'Let sires be sires: if Fortune, kindly show,
O friends and partners, on we go.
Who shall despair, where Teucer rules and guides?
For sure Apollo's word provides

On shores untried a twin to Salamis.
My comrades bold, to worse than this
Inured, to-morrow brave the vasty brine,
But drown to-day your cares in wine.'